Family by Design

The joking demeanor faded. “Wow.”

“That’s what I thought. I was at the house, felt like I was going to lose it and Maddie stopped by.”

“Out of the blue?”

“She was taking her mother out on a walk and spotted me on the porch. We talked about Fran’s things. Maddie said it would be harder the longer I left it.”

“What about the estate people?”

J.C. sighed. “I know you were trying to help, but it sounded so … cold. Maddie’s going to take an inventory, get things packed for storage so I can rent out the house.”

“Good plan. Then if Chrissy wants it later …”

“That’s what we thought.”

“We?”

“Lay off, Adam. Maddie’s just trying to help because she’s grateful that her mother’s improving.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You need to get married, get off the romance radar.”

“Because that worked out so well for you?”

J.C. winced. “There are downsides to having old friends. They know too much.”

“Sorry. You know I get jittery about the marriage thing.”

“Guess you haven’t met the right woman.” J.C. held up one hand before his friend could jump in with an obvious reminder. “And neither have I.”

Adam raised his eyebrows. “Maybe you have, my friend.”

J.C. frowned.

“Maddie sounds like someone worth getting to know.”

“Ah, just what I need in my upside-down life.”

Chuckling, Adam looked smug. “You said it.”

A few weeks later, J.C. glanced around the near-empty rooms of his sister’s house. “You’re amazing!”

Surprisingly, Maddie blushed.

The quaint sign was charming, taking him aback even more than all she had accomplished.

“You sent a lot of help,” she reminded him, not quite meeting his gaze as she fiddled with one of the few remaining cartons.

“Still …” He shifted, taking in how much had been accomplished, how his sister’s belongings had all been tucked away.

“I did think of something else.” Maddie finally lifted her eyes. Today they were as blue as her sapphire-colored blouse. “Even with another family living here, from the outside the house looks the same. If you had it painted in a new palette, one that doesn’t even resemble the gray, it would seem very different.”

J.C. hadn’t even considered the exterior. “I don’t know much about picking out colors.”

Maddie smiled, causing the dimple in her cheek to flash. “That’s the easy part.”

Wanting to study her face, her soft-looking lips, he nodded. “Such as?”

She brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. “Um … yellow would be pretty. A daisy shade of yellow. White trim. Be cause the front door is mostly glass …” Her voice trailed off.

J.C. realized he was staring, not listening. “Sounds good.”

She brightened. “I don’t want you to think I’m meddling. I have this habit of over-organizing things, people, well, most everything.”

Her dimple moved when she spoke, a punctuation mark to her smile. As he watched, it gradually disappeared. What had she just said?

Maddie’s smile faded a bit.

And J.C. marshaled his thoughts. “You were saying?”

“That I meddle.”

“Thank the Lord you do.” She paled and he instantly realized she’d taken his words the wrong way. “Helping, not meddling. I’d never have guessed Fran’s house could be packed up so … quickly.”

“And the painting?” she prodded.

“Great idea.” Her eyes were incredibly blue. “Maybe blue?”

“With the yellow? Or just a light shade of blue?”

“Definitely not light,” he murmured, captivated by the depth of color in her eyes.

“Well, we could get some samples, look them over.” Maddie twisted her hands.

J.C.’s gaze followed her action when he abruptly remembered the last time he’d been entranced by a pretty face and mesmerizing eyes. His ex-wife had been pretty, as well. On the outside. “You still haven’t told me how much you’ll take for doing all this.”

Her eyes clouded and that enchanting dimple disappeared. “I did it to help you, not to make money.”

“But …” He waved around, again stunned by the emptiness. While it was a relief to have the job done, the house no longer held the reminders of Fran’s life. Facing Maddie again, he couldn’t keep a sliver of bleakness out of his voice. “It was a big job.”

Maddie’s voice, too, was quiet. “For me it was Dad’s fishing pole. Mom gave it to his best friend. Logically, I knew Dad was gone, that he wasn’t coming back, but when his fishing pole was in the shed, leaning against the wall, it almost seemed like he’d stroll back in, whistling, ready to tie new flies.”

She got it. Completely. “Yeah.”

“When everything’s done … if you do decide to change the look of the exterior, it might help Chrissy to see it’s just a house.”

His niece had been campaigning to live in the building on Main Street. “She’d kick and scream all the way here. And I’m not ready for that.”