Delivered with Love (7 page)

W
hat's your idea?" Claire walked toward Nancy and stood in front of her.

"I'd like to see the place first." Nancy linked her arm through Claire's. "To see if it's right for my sister. We've been estranged for many years, but I've wanted her to move here and now may be the time to make things right. So, how do we get in?"

Her sister.
Claire whipped out the business card from her jacket pocket and handed it to Nancy. If anything, maybe Nancy's sister will end up renting the place. "Call him."

"Michael Thompson, Realtor, huh?" Nancy pulled her cell phone out of her backpack-style purse and punched in the numbers. "How did you get his card?"

"He gave it to me."

"You've met the owner?"

"More than once." Claire thought back to her mom's funeral. Mr. Thompson had looked out of place with his fancy designer suit and tie. Claire didn't remember him being social. She had wondered why he had come.

"Hello, Mr. Thompson?" Nancy and Claire walked in the direction of the rental house as the rain came pouring down again. "My name is Nancy Daniels, and I'd like to see the inside of your rental home on Saxon Avenue . . ."

Michael couldn't believe his good fortune—two viewings of his rental property in one day. He loaded his briefcase with paperwork and swung his overcoat over his shoulders.

Eric stuffed a donut in his mouth and followed it with a swig of coffee. "Where are you headed in such a hurry?"

"Got a call on my rental." Michael pulled his car keys from his pants' pocket. "I've got to run." He waved. "I'll be back, though, so save one of those donuts for me."

"Yeah, right, Mr. Fit. When's the last time you've eaten a donut?" Eric called to Michael's back.

Michael swung around. "If I find a renter, I'll want to celebrate. "He pushed the door open and slid out into the pouring rain. He covered his head with his briefcase and dashed to his car.

He saw a fire truck pass by on his left, and the neighbors milling about. He didn't see an ambulance, so decided not to be overly concerned. Two women huddled together under the eaves of his rental. Michael squinted as he studied one of the women. He'd recognize that wavy blonde hair anywhere. Claire. He turned off the engine, unclipped his seatbelt, and slid out of the car. She must really want the place. The woman beside Claire was older and looked put together, from her raincoat to her matching scarf and hat. Michael scanned the street and once again saw no car. How'd they get here?

He approached the house with his briefcase in hand.

"Mr. Thompson, I'd like you to meet Nancy Daniels." Claire blew into her hands. She appeared to be trembling.

"You must be cold out here." Michael extended his hand to Nancy. "Please, no formality. Call me Michael. Let's get you two inside." He put the key into the lock and opened the door. The smell of fresh paint wafted from the front room. "Claire, since you've been here before, why don't you show Nancy around?"

Michael kept his distance as Claire took Nancy from the living room to the kitchen. "The house has two bedrooms, one bath, and is nine hundred square feet. We'd be responsible for the utilities, and Mr. Thompson . . ." Claire glanced over her shoulder at him, "I mean Michael, will take care of landscaping."

Michael wondered if the women were browsing or serious about the place. He hoped Nancy would be the one paying the rent. Then he might not be worried about late payments. It might be good to have an older woman around to keep things in order too. No wild parties destroying his property.

"Hey, Michael? I'm sorry to barge in like this." Blake's voice interrupted Michael's thoughts. "I need to talk with you. It's urgent." He stood in the doorway with his arms tight across his chest.

Michael had never seen the man look so distraught. "Ladies, excuse me," he called over his shoulder. "I'll be back in a minute."

Michael kept in stride with Blake as they marched across the lawn. "What's up? You're making me nervous." The smell of smoke and burnt wood filled the air. They walked to the far side of the house. Michael gasped. "Blake, what happened?"

"It was an accident. I left a burner on and a dish towel caught fire." Blake opened the front door.

Michael took in the sparse setting. A black leather couch faced a simple entertainment center housing some stereo equipment. A flat screen television filled the far wall. Blake's single, all right. Reminded him of his own bachelor days.

"Thank God it was only the kitchen." Blake let out a long breath.

Michael picked up a singed potholder. "Looks like you're out of commission for a while."

"That's where you come in."

"Me?"

"Your rental house, I mean. Come, have a seat." Blake motioned him to the couch.

"I can only stay a minute, I've got possible renters." Michael gestured toward his property.

"Here's my thought." Blake sat with his elbows resting on his knees. "I'd like to use the kitchen in your rental till I can have mine repaired. I'll be glad to pay, of course."

Michael rubbed the back of his neck. "But if I have renters, how will that work?"

"Depending on who it is and what they're willing to negotiate, I'd offer to chip in on their rent for the use of the kitchen."

Michael paused.

"I've learned my lesson. You won't have to worry about
your
kitchen catching fire." Blake clasped his hands together.

"Can't see the harm in that. Sure. You'll have to work it out with the renters. Long as I get paid each month, no problem. "Michael pushed himself to his feet and patted Blake on the shoulder. "You can start tonight. I'm sorry about your house."

"Thanks, man. Appreciate it."

Michael let himself out, shutting the door behind him. Poor Blake. That man loved his natural wood countertops and oak cabinets. He strolled down the sidewalk.

Michael heard Nancy's announcement the second he walked through the door.

"We'll take it."

"Great!" He joined the women in the kitchen. "I'll need the two of you to fill out the application. . . ." He fumbled through his briefcase trying to locate the paperwork. His mind drifted to his down-and-out neighbor as his eyes swept his clean, usable kitchen. How could he bring up the subject of Blake's need to use the rental kitchen?

"Michael?" It was Claire's voice this time.

He snapped back to the present. "I'm sorry. I learned that my neighbor's kitchen is totally destroyed by an accidental fire. It'll be out of commission for a couple of months, at least. He had an interesting proposition for me—and possibly for you. "Michael leaned back with his hands resting against the counter. "Blake wants to use
this
kitchen while his is being rebuilt. He would pay part of the rent." Michael looked directly at Claire. "Would it be something you'd consider?"

A smile tugged at the corners of Claire's lips. "I don't see a problem, unless he cooks at weird hours."

Michael turned and caught Nancy's eye. "What do you think?"

"Well, since I'm not the one renting with Claire, I'll need to get back to you on that."

"Sure." Michael's pulse quickened. "Who
will
be renting the house with Claire?"

"Oh." Nancy chuckled. "I didn't mean to alarm you. But since I haven't spoken with my sister yet, I'd like to talk with her first. I'll most likely make the security deposit when we hand in the application, so you won't need to worry about that."

Michael liked this woman already. Any form of payment right now would be great. He wanted to make it official. Then he could relax. He'd have the money he needed to make a few payments of his own for Julia's wedding.

"Here's my card, call me when you're ready. I plan to keep showing the house until I have an application and cleared credit check on hand. I told Blake he could cook here anytime until renters move in. But after that, he'll have to work out the details."

Nancy nodded. "We understand."

Michael grabbed his briefcase. "Thanks, ladies. Unless you have any more questions, I need to head back to the office."

"Only one." Claire's voice wavered. "You were at my mom's funeral—Emily James, right?"

Michael could swear someone had socked him in the gut.

Claire folded her arms across her chest. "How
did
you know her?"

C
laire shifted from one foot to the other as she anticipated Michael's response. Her question seemed to catch him off guard. Surprise showed in his eyes in the moment his gaze shifted away.

"Oh, Emily and I go way back. Your mom was a good woman."

A completely unsatisfying answer. Was he hiding something? Could Michael have written the letter? "How far back?"

Michael's laugh sounded forced. "A long time." Was he blushing? The lighting was dim in the house, but Claire could swear Michael looked a little warm under the collar. "We lost touch, then a mutual friend called to tell me she passed from cancer." Michael dropped his briefcase to the floor and brought his hands to his hips. "I'm sorry for your loss. How have
you
been? And from your interest in the house, you must be serious about relocating."

Smooth. He wanted to change the subject. Why? "Yeah. I've decided to give Capitola a try." She glanced at Nancy. "And with Nancy's help, it looks like I might be able to do that."

"Great. Like I said—get that application to me as soon as possible. I'll run a credit check, and then the place will be yours." Michael's shoulders visibly relaxed. He reached for the door handle. "After you, ladies."

Claire walked through the doorway. Was Michael telling her the whole truth? Whether he was or not, soon she'd be living in her own place—her first home. Of course, she'd need a roommate. And hopefully Nancy's sister would be just that person.

"Do you ladies need a lift?" Michael gestured toward his black BMW.

"Oh, no. Thank you. Nancy's car is around the corner. "Claire pointed.

"We couldn't get any closer with the fire truck and people blocking the street," Nancy added.

"I see." A smile crossed Michael's lips. "I'll be waiting for your application. If you change your mind, please call." He opened his car door and slid behind the wheel.

"We'll bring it by tomorrow," Nancy called before his door shut.

Michael waved and took off down the street.

Nancy bumped Claire's shoulder playfully. "What was that all about?"

Claire frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The questions . . . and the looks." Nancy slipped the rental application in her purse as they walked down the street. "So, Michael was at your mom's funeral. Did you know all the guests but him?"

Claire had to admit there were quite a few people from her mom's past she'd never met before the memorial. The room had been packed and her mind was in a fog. Her thoughts shifted to the letter. "Before you call your sister, there's something I'd like to show you."

Nancy hugged the paper to her chest as she and Claire sat on the brown suede sofa in Nancy's family room. "I'll never forget my first love." She handed the letter to Claire. "Michael could be your mom's old boyfriend. How exciting. Are you going to show him the letter?"

"Maybe in time. He didn't seem interested in sharing any
real
details today." Claire gently folded the letter in half and slid it inside the envelope. "I wonder if the rental house has been in Michael's family for years." Claire leaned back against the couch.

"What do you mean?" asked Nancy.

Claire pointed to the left corner of the envelope. "The address of the rental house is the same one as on the envelope."

"How romantic." Nancy looked lost in her own thoughts. "And to think you're going to live in that house . . ."

"I need a roommate and a job first." Claire pulled Nancy out of her daydream as she tucked the envelope into the pocket of her jean jacket.

"Oh, yes. I need to call Vivian." Nancy sprang off the sofa.

"Vivian? I knew a Vivian down in L.A. She worked with me at a diner." Claire talked to Nancy's back as she headed toward the kitchen.

Nancy whipped around. "You know Vivian?"

Claire furrowed her brows. "You mean to tell me your sister Vivian is a waitress at a diner in L.A.?"

Nancy nodded. "She's heavyset, about this tall." Her hand came up to her chin.

Small world. Claire's jaw dropped. "I can't believe it. Vivian is your
sister!"

Claire stood and paced the room as Nancy ran off to call her sister. How would Claire feel about renting a house with Vivian—someone twenty years older? She had seemed sweet and friendly when they worked together at the diner, but Mom once said as people age they get set in their ways. Would Vivian run the house without asking Claire her opinion? She picked up the red candle that sat on the coffee table and brought it to her nose. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the sweet apple scent. After setting the candle down, she walked to the window and ran her hand down the camel-colored drape.

Vivian might have her own ideas—on how to decorate, when to do the chores, and what to do on the weekends. Claire would have to compromise. It would be like having an older sister in the house again. She sat down on the sofa and leaned her head back.

What if Vivian still held a grudge against Nancy? Wouldn't that spill into Claire's life when she already had enough problems of her own? Maybe she didn't want Vivian for a roommate.

Claire's heart skipped a beat. She was trying to define herself as a person, become independent. She heard Nancy end her phone call.

"Vivian agreed to come for a visit! It took a while to convince her, but once she found out you were here, she agreed to come." Nancy rushed over to Claire and gave her a big hug. "Vivian said it would be nice to have a friend in Capitola— someone to run interference!" Nancy swatted the air. "That sister of mine. I'm simply glad she's coming."

"She's moving to Capitola sight unseen?" Her stomach twisted into a queasy knot.

"Well, no. I didn't have the chance to tell her about the house on Saxon Avenue."

Claire felt as if everyone else was dictating her life. She didn't like it. "So, should we show her the house first before we fill out the application?"

"No. We're going to fill out the application now and give a deposit. After all, you need a roof over your head . . . and I need my sister back. We'll take it one step at a time." Nancy squeezed Claire's hand.

Claire had a feeling at this point Nancy would do anything to make amends with her sister. Why would she put money down for someone she didn't know? Another thought wound its way through Claire's mind. Why should she question Nancy's kindness? Like the woman said, something inside her made her want to help. And at this point, who was Claire to argue?

Tom's tow truck pulled up in front of the house.

Claire joined Nancy at the window. Her Volkswagen was hitched to the back of Tom's truck. She raced through the door. Her car evoked emotions she couldn't explain. Happiness. Sadness. Joy. Fear. Without her VW, she felt lost and alone. Claire approached her car and ran her hand over the top. As pitiful as it looked, she was glad to have it back.

"I thought it'd be better to bring your car home." Tom reached down and unhitched the Volkswagen from the tow truck. "I told the guys at the shop you needed more time and that I'd bring it back down when you were ready."

"Thanks, Tom." Claire leaned against the passenger door. "I appreciate it."

"Tom, your dinner's in the microwave," Nancy called from the front door. "I've got to be at work in half an hour."

"I'll be there in a minute. You coming?"

Claire was hungry, but she didn't want to intrude on Tom and Nancy's time. "Please, go ahead. I'll be inside in a little bit."

Claire watched Tom greet Nancy with a kiss. As funny and creepy as she thought Tom was, it was nice to see his affection with his wife.

A white Ford F-150 pulled up. Blake hopped out of his truck. "Hey, Claire, how about that pizza?"