A Deliberate Father
“Fifteen hundred is a fair price for this community.”
“How much are you paying?”
Uh-oh. Either the solicitor, Mr. Swinburg, hadn’t told him or Tanner enjoyed watching her squirm. “Five hundred. Plus heat.”
He frowned. “For a two-bedroom?”
“Beulah and I had an arrangement.”
“Which was?”
Was, not is. She squared her shoulders. “I can do small carpentry repairs and I’m good with plumbing. And after two years I know all the quirks of the furnace.”
She felt as if she were being interviewed when he leaned against the wall and crossed his ankles. “And you fix the leak in the roof only when it rains?”
“I told your aunt when I moved in that she needed a new roof. But if something didn’t directly affect her, she often chose to ignore it.”
He wiped a hand over his face. “I don’t suppose you do roofs, as well?”
“No, but I could help someone who knew what they were doing.”
“What else needs replacing?”
She looked around the apartment. “The windows down here are new but the ones upstairs aren’t so great. The furnace will last you another few years if you baby it along. The foundation is solid. The house needs a fresh coat of paint.” She didn’t specify inside and out. As for the wiring, that could wait until he asked.
He wandered back to the living room, looked around and sighed. “There are three other apartments?”
“There are two one-bedroom apartments on the second floor, both rented. And there’s a small bedsit beside this apartment. It’s tiny.”
“Is it rented?”
“No.” Not officially. Nell held her breath, praying he wouldn’t want to look at the room. She’d meant to ask Rodney to make himself scarce today, but once the storm had moved in, she hadn’t had the heart. He was too old to sleep outside, and he was still running a bit of a fever.
She hadn’t planned on bringing him home two weeks ago. The first time, she’d spotted him squatting on the sidewalk in town, she almost hadn’t recognized him. The older man had lost so much weight, and it had been years since she’d seen him. Rodney Stiles was a face from a past long dead and gone; hearing his familiar voice, although weakened, had stirred up powerful memories. She gave him all the change she had and continued on her way. But she couldn’t stop thinking about him, about how cheerful he and his wife had always been when they delivered the weekly egg supply to her parents’ convenience store. Rodney’s wife, Lucinda, had smelled like cinnamon. She’d told Nell she had strong, capable hands, and that she’d make a good farmer.
The next time Nell went to Seabend, she brought along a blanket and jacket for Rodney. When she found him on a bench in a small park, he looked like he was a dried-up old twig the wind had blown along the sidewalk. He accepted her gifts, but she could tell he was embarrassed. While eating the hot lunch she insisted he have, she learned Lucinda had died a few months earlier. Since then he couldn’t stand living at the farm. A week later, rain settled in for a few days, and Nell returned to Seabend and found him huddled in a doorway, shaking. Whatever the cause of his shakes, he needed help. She convinced him to go home with her for a few days, just until he was feeling better.
“Who lives on the second floor?”
Nell snapped back to attention. “Mrs. Trembley. She says she’s seventy-four, but I suspect she’s older. She and your aunt were…friends.” If bickering could be called a sport, they’d been the champions. With Beulah’s passing, Mrs. T. had started to fade. She no longer had color in her cheeks from the heat of an argument. And she’d stopped dyeing her hair because who else could she goad by saying she looked ten years younger?
“Friends.” Tanner closed his eyes as if he had a headache. “Rent?”
“Four hundred,” she murmured.
His eyes shot open, their dark beam accusing. “What did you say?”
Nell fisted her hands on her hips. “Your aunt may have been…difficult, but she was kind in her own way.” Unlike her nephew, apparently. “Mrs. Trembley is old, and she doesn’t have a family. It’s only a one-bedroom. You couldn’t get much more for it than four hundred.”
WELL. WELL. LITTLE MISS NELLIE had a temper. With anger flushing her cheeks and those disturbing green eyes sparking, she was beautiful. Earlier, he’d been mesmerized by the overalls she’d had on. She’d worn a cropped shirt under them, and the brief, teasing glimpses of her flat midriff disappearing into the dark folds of the overalls had been, to put it mildly, distracting.
Thank goodness she’d changed because Nell Hart’s smooth skin was the last thing he should be thinking about. Instead of the financial asset he needed, he’d inherited a houseful of charity cases and a crumbling mansion. Somehow, something would have to change. He had to make this—for lack of a better word—apartment house, a paying venture. It was the only way he’d be able to sell it for the price he needed.
“Melody Northrop lives in 2B.”
“And?”
Nell smiled. “She’s single and beautiful and pays six hundred a month.”
He tucked away his answering smile. It was the first time Nell had offered information willingly. Jordan recognized the tactic; get the bad news over with, then soften it up with some good news. He’d let the caretaker bit blind him; she was clearly a great deal smarter than he’d thought.
“That’s a relief to hear.” But not exactly inspiring. Hard to believe in his neighborhood, which was only forty minutes away, one-bedrooms cost between two and three thousand a month. But as the real-estate agent had pointed out, this was Waterside, not Seabend. Not only were they close to the ocean here, but when the wind blew from the right—or wrong—direction, the smell of manure on the farmers’ fields was also very much apparent.
That was the strange thing about the east coast of Canada. Million-dollar homes rubbed shoulders with old homesteads. People with money were moving into the area, but the farming families were still reluctant to sell off their acreage, even if it meant living in poverty. That kind of sentiment was frustrating, but opportunities were finally opening up. In twenty years, Waterside would be the next Seabend. If Jordan handled the sale the right way, the house could be a potential gold mine.
For now, six hundred for a one-bedroom was acceptable. Five hundred for a two-bedroom was not. Even for an in-house handyman. Handywoman. As he watched Nell check the lock on the living room window, he wondered if Aunt Beulah had grown soft in her old age. From the little he remembered about his aunt, the crusty old wing nut had been as tightfisted as they come. What had Nell Hart done for the old lady that an off-site handyman couldn’t? She was a major impediment to the sale of the monstrosity. With the poor condition of the house, he’d be lucky to find a buyer for it, but no one would be willing to take on the house plus a live-in caretaker. She had to go, and he, lucky man that he was, would have to tell her.
“You could probably get a bit more for this apartment. It is a three-bedroom.”
He went to the door and waited for her. “I’d like to see the bedsit now.”
“I need some time to clean it up. It’s not ready.” She gripped the window ledge as if she expected him to drag her from the apartment. Interesting. What or who did she have stashed in the bedsit? Jordan started to smile. Miss Nellie could prove to be an entertaining diversion during his temporary stint here.
“I need to see if it’s big enough for me to live in. Otherwise, I might have to evict someone.” If he had a mustache, he would have twirled it. He didn’t plan on evicting anyone—yet. One way or another, he’d fit into the bedsit.
“What?”
“I’m moving in until the house sells. I’m a hands-on kind of guy.” He made sure his smile had a bite to it, just enough to make her wonder whether he was joking or not.
“But that’s…” Not going to work. Definitely not for him. He wasn’t looking forward to leaving his condo to live in this firetrap. And by the look on Miss Nellie’s face, it wasn’t working for her, either.
CHAPTER TWO
“YOU’RE LEAVING ALL THOSE clothes here?” Alex asked as he stared into Jordan’s closet.
Trying to ignore his headache, Jordan zipped up the suitcase. “I’m only going to be forty minutes away. I’ll be dropping in from time to time.”
He’d arrived home last night in a black mood to find Alex waiting for him with a bottle of Scotch to celebrate their first joint business venture. As he watched his friend shove his clothes to one end of the closet and start hanging up his own suits, he tried to recall how he’d allowed Alex to convince him to sublet his condo. Alex insisted he was doing him a favor by taking the place off his hands for the next few months, but Jordan had seen him working a deal too many times not to know when he’d been played. Which was exactly why he wanted Alex as a business partner; the guy knew how to work the angles. He wasn’t sure how he felt about him moving in on his personal turf, though.
“The sooner you clear out the riffraff, the sooner we sell, and you can move back here.” Alex hummed as he hung up one of his suits. “It’s a good idea for you to move in. Sounds like you have a lot of house cleaning to do.”
Jordan scooped up an armload of books he’d selected a couple days ago and stacked them in an empty box. “You’re working with a real-estate agent to get the house listed, right? And coming up with our own list of potential clients, as well?”
“I am, but you’d get a higher price if the house showed a profit. It’s the live-in caretaker who’s the worst. She either has to go or start paying market rent.”
Jordan’s queasiness spiked. Not only was he going to live on Dunstan Lane to monitor the situation and the repairs, but he had to find a way to get rid of Nell and her kids. Yeah, he was really looking forward to the next few months.
“Just keep your eye on the ball,” Alex cautioned. “In the past year alone there were three businesses we could have bought into if we’d had the capital. Selling the house is going to make it possible for us to branch out on our own. Don’t forget that.”
“Not going to happen.” Not after he’d worked so hard to get this far. He was often accused of being too focused, but without backup, he couldn’t afford to relax. The consquences were immediate, sometimes permanent. He’d moved on from his poverty-stricken childhood. The only direction he planned to travel now was up—after selling the house.
“Good. So, any chance Sandra will show up at your door?”
“No.” Jordan stacked a few more books in the box.
“I thought things were heating up between you.”
“They’re not.” And he didn’t understand why. Logically, Sandra was the perfect woman for him. She was a consultant at the same firm as him and Alex, but worked in marketing, while he was a turn-around consultant. Often they worked on the same account. Jordan went in first, assessed the company’s problems, looked for ways to improve efficiency and cut costs and helped the owners write a new business plan. Sandra was all about strengthening the clients’ brand, keeping them in front of their intended audience.
They worked well together, enjoyed each other’s company, and had the same drive for successs. If that wasn’t enough, she was a beautiful woman, and she’d let him know she wouldn’t mind if they spent more time together outside office hours. It should have added up to the perfect relationship. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what else he needed, but something held him back from committing to her. It made him uneasy to think about it, so he tried not to. In any case, he wasn’t ready to get involved in anything serious at this point in his life. He had business to attend to.
“She’s smart, she’s foxy and she wants what you want. Money, success and all the trimmings. You’re nuts, man. Unless you’ve been holding out on me. Should I expect any other girlfriends showing up at the door?”
“No.” Jordan stalked into the bathroom to escape Alex’s cheerful tone. Bad enought the guy was moving onto his turf while he was stuck at the old Victorian, now he was angling for his woman, too.
WHEN JORDAN DROVE UP to the side entrance of the Victorian two hours later, dark clouds scudded across the sky, threatening more rain. Everything looked sodden, even the closed-up sunflower that peeked around the corner of the building.
One of Nell’s projects likely; she seemed like the sunflower type. She’d managed to skinny out of showing him the bedsit yesterday when Mrs. Trembley had started thumping on the second-story floor with her cane. The elderly tenant declared she’d been waiting hours to meet him and wasn’t willing to wait a minute longer. He’d been polite but distant and had cut the interview short, having had a bellyful of 879 Dunstan Lane by then. He couldn’t wait to get back to his condo where he didn’t know his next-door neighbors. Didn’t have to know them, didn’t care to know them. No clutter, no fuss. Just the way he liked it. Except with Alex living there now, the place didn’t feel like his anymore. He’d forgotten how lousy it felt not to know where you belonged.
Using the key Nell had given him yesterday, he opened the outside door to the room that was to be his home for however long it took to sell the house. At least the bedsit had its own private entrance. The other tenants shared an inside hallway and staircase, but he could come and go without having to talk to anyone.
He sighed; there wasn’t enough space to breathe, let alone live inside the room. Everything looked too small and drab—the bathroom wedged in one corner, the tiny kitchenette strung along the back wall. Worse, all the complaining in the world wasn’t going to change the fact that he’d elected to stay here.
He kicked a chrome, sixties-style kitchen chair that didn’t look as if it would hold his weight. Okay, he ate out more nights than not, so the kitchen wasn’t a big deal. And as long as he had lots of hot water and good pressure, he could handle banging his elbows against the sides of the shower. The bed, a lumpy couch that pulled out into a double—or so Nell had assured him—didn’t begin to pass muster. He’d have to buy a new mattress. No telling what was living in this one.
He dropped his suitcases in front of the only closet as water pipes screeched overhead. He shuddered and shoved open a window. The room smelled of damp clothes and disinfectant; it needed a good scrubbing. That was a caretaker’s job, right?
His mood brightened until he remembered he had to tell Nell about the rent increases. With the expense of raising two small children, he imagined paying a higher rent was going to put a serious dent in her budget. With that in mind, he’d decided to hold off for a couple more weeks before tackling the issue of her caretaker position. It didn’t make sense to keep her on staff when all he had to do was hire a tradesman from time to time to do repairs. Eventually, he’d have to let her go.
Best-case scenario, he’d come up with a solution before he had to fire her. He had a lot of contacts and planned to start looking for a better job for her as soon as he found out what skills she had to offer. Who could resist more money and a nicer place to live? He knew at least two people who owned newly renovated apartment buildings. One of them owed him big-time.
“Anyone home?” A quick rap of knuckles, and the outside door popped open. “Sorry to barge in. It’s started raining again.” A gorgeous redhead burst into the room, followed by a small girl who hung back in the doorway.
The leggy redhead thrust a bouquet of flowers toward him. “Welcome. I’m Melody from 2B. Close the door, Lacey. You’re letting the rain in.” She strode over to the kitchen and started going through cupboards as if she lived there. “No vase. I was afraid of that. I’ll run upstairs and get one.”
She dashed for the door. “Oh, this is Lacey. Lacey, this is…I’m sorry. I’ve forgotten your name. Jason? Justin?”
Melody from 2B smiled, and the day brightened. “I’m, ah…Jordan Tanner.” Way to go, forgetting his own name. “Nice to meet you.” He shook her hand. “And, thanks.” He held up the flowers grasped in his other hand.
“Nell didn’t mention you were so good-looking. I swear that woman needs to get…” She stopped, sparing a sideways glance at the little girl. “Lacey, entertain the gentleman. And take off that wet coat. Nell will kill me if you catch a cold. I’ll be right back.” When the redheaded vision whirled out of the room, Jordan stared at the child who looked small enough to fold up and put in his pocket. She had her mother’s big green eyes, but her curls were fair instead of Nell’s dark hair.
Lacey took off her wet raincoat and carefully hung it over the back of a chair. Looking like a little pink puff ball, topped with frothy blond curls, she smoothed her hands over her pink leotard and adjusted the feathery thing around her neck.
“Hello, Mr. Jordan. It’s nice to meet you.” Jordan couldn’t help smiling as he shook her tiny hand.
“It’s nice to meet you, too, Lacey. Are you a ballerina?”
“Yes. Would you like me to dance?”
“Maybe we should go find Melody first.” He knew squat about kids except they came with a ton of rules. What he did know was Nell had almost killed him yesterday when he’d tried to talk to Jacob. No doubt she’d go ballistic if she found him alone with her precious Lacey.
“Melody will be right back. She’s on the phone.” Lacey dropped a deep curtsy.
“How do you know that?”
When Lacey pointed at the ceiling, Jordan grimaced at the low murmur of someone talking upstairs. Another wave of wet wool, and—what was that smell, mold?—hit him. It felt as though he were light-years, not mere miles, from his condo.
“Look, I’m a kitty cat.”
Lacey hopped and twirled around the room. She didn’t remotely remind him of a cat, but she looked so earnest and serious, he smiled encouragement whenever she glanced his way. Which was often. After a few minutes of watching her twirl on one spot, Jordan started to worry. If memory served him right, kids spewed from far less agitation.
“Lacey? Maybe you better—”
Lacey came to an abrupt halt and flung herself into a heap on the floor. Her head drooped down to her chest. She didn’t make a sound.
“Um…that was an incredible dance. Thank you.” He clapped, hoping the blond curls would stir.
After waiting for a couple of minutes, he reached down to her limp body and wrapped his hand around her amazingly tiny arm. “Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself?”
Like a firecracker, she crackled and fizzed to life as she shot to her feet. “Did I scare ya?” Winding her tiny body around one of his legs, she beamed up at him. Her damp curls framed her sweet, round baby face. Her eyes were so alive with childish delight, Jordan felt a twinge. A twinge of what, he wasn’t sure. Maybe a long forgotten memory from his own childhood. Surely there had been good days before he understood his life was never going to be like the other kids. He shoved the past down, out of sight where it belonged.
He smiled at Lacey, gently tried to shake her off. She giggled and wound her arms tighter around his leg. He started to shove his hands in his jean pockets but ended up sticking them under his armpits.
“Maybe you want to let go of my leg.”
She continued to beam at him as if he’d invented the sun. “Why?”
“Well.” He cleared his throat. “We just met, and it’s not a good idea to…with people you’ve just met it’s maybe better…” He had no idea where he was going with the sentence. Lacey twinkled up at him.
“I have to go to the washroom.” Genius solution. As they grinned at each other, the door banged open.
Nell stood in the doorway, hands on her hips. “What’s going on here?”
Lacey let go of his leg and ran over to wrap herself around Nell’s legs instead. Feeling as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have, Jordan scowled at the twin sets of green eyes staring at him. The indomitable duo. Man, if those two sunk their hooks into some poor, clueless guy, he’d be a goner. Thank God he wasn’t susceptible to that kind of thing.
“I was dancing for Mr. Jordan,” Lacey explained.
“The bunny dance,” Jordan added. “It’s fascinating. Have you seen it?”
A smile slowly spread over Nell’s face. As he watched her body relax against Lacey, he felt as if he’d passed some kind of test. “I think you mean the kitty cat dance. Where’s Melody, Lacey?”
“Here,” Melody called from the doorway. “I got caught on the phone.” She turned to Nell. “I have a four-thirty appointment. I’ll have to take a rain check for dinner. Sorry. Nice to meet you, Jason.”
“Jordan,” he murmured.
She turned back from the door and smiled at him. “I knew that. Oh, here’s the vase. You know, if you’re really nice to these two ladies, maybe they’ll invite you to dinner. I hear their exalted dinner guest bailed.”
A bell rang in the deep recesses of the house. “That’s my four-thirty already. Damn that man, he’s always so needy. Later, all.” Melody slammed out of the room. A moment later, Jordan heard her talking to a man as they ascended the stairs.
He turned to Nell and raised his eyebrows. “Is this something I should be worried about?” If Melody was a call girl he needed to know. That was the kind of thing that could easily scare off potential buyers. He watched Nell closely, waiting for her reply. He didn’t think she’d outright lie to him, but neither would she hesitate to protect her friend by not telling the entire truth.
“Do you like curry?” Lacey had crept back to his side and slid her hand into his.
“Um…” He shot a look at Nell, but her face was blank. No help there. “Sure. What kind of curry?”
“Chicken.”
“Did someone say curry? I adore curry, especially, chicken curry.” Mrs. Trembley stumped into the room on short thick legs that, unfortunately, her bright blue-and-red-plaid shorts didn’t cover. She was followed by a frail-looking older man. Had Nell mentioned anything about Mrs. Trembley having a husband?
Nell’s shoulders drooped for a second before she pasted a smile on and turned to Mrs. Trembley.
“Rodney! You’re here, too. Jordan, this is Rodney. He’s a friend of Mrs. Trembley’s.”
“He’s staying with me for a while. Just until he’s feeling better. Isn’t that right, Rodney?” Jordan winced when Mrs. Trembley poked Rodney in his painfully thin ribs.
Rodney nodded in Jordan’s direction but avoided eye contact. He looked as though he was about to pull his forelock and bend a knee. Jordan looked around the crowded room. His crowded room. He already had tenants of every possible description. Why not throw an English servant into the mix?
“I’m hungry.” Lacey tugged on his hand.
Nell headed for the door. “I’ll have to cook more rice and see what else I have on hand. Come on, Lacey. Jacob’s waiting upstairs.”
It didn’t even occur to her to say no. Amazing. Jordan stepped sideways to block her exit. “Ever hear about takeout?”
“Takeout?” Nell repeated. The room grew suspiciously quiet. “It costs too much. I mean, there’re four of us, two of them. Melody will want to eat once she smells the food, even though she claims she’s bailed. No, it’s okay. I’ll cook more rice, and see what else I can throw together.”
He felt a jolt as he caught her arm just above her wrist to stop her. Their eyes connected for a second, a look of surprise and cautious curiosity passing between them before she pulled away. “I saw an Indian restaurant a few blocks over when I was driving here. I’ll order some food and pick it up while you cook the rice. It’ll be my treat. Sort of a new-landlord get-to-know-you meal. Anything I shouldn’t get?”
“Just make sure all the sauces are mild,” Mrs. Trembley piped up. “Too much spice gives me gas.”
That was a detail he could have done without. When no one else offered any objections to him buying dinner, Jordan shoved the flowers in the vase and splashed some water in it, then snagged his jacket and went outside. He was about to dash to his car when he realized he’d left most of his tenants in his apartment. He turned back, held the door open. “If everyone’s finished in here?”
