Neighborly Complications (Stories of Serendipity #1) (10 page)

She took her time with the ceiling. This house had tall ceilings, and a newcomer’s eyes were instantly drawn upwards to the beautiful crown molding that was indicative of the style of the house. Being careful not to get paint on it, she carefully used her brush to paint around the edges of the entire room before moving on to the floors. The room took all morning, and most of the afternoon, almost entirely on delicate edge painting.

When she’d moved on to the next room, Claire had decided to go ahead and roll the paint on the walls, and save the edges for tomorrow. A gasp escaped her lips when she opened the door. In her glorious butter yellow paint, someone had drawn giant yellow circles on the walls. They were covered with dripping ‘O’s and Claire had no idea how it was possible, ghost or not. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, she turned a circle in the center of the room, looking at the dozens of circles painted with a child’s finger on her walls.

“I don’t get it.” She exhaled slowly. “I mean, I get it. Circles are important, but what am I supposed to do with it?” She was talking to herself, not really expecting an answer. Dipping her roller in the paint tray, Claire began covering the evidence of Edie’s latest mischief.

Later that night, after a sandwich, bowl of soup, and a well-deserved glass of wine, Claire fell into bed completely exhausted. She’d gotten a lot done on the house today, without any distractions, and she was feeling pleased with herself. She could only hope that tomorrow would go just as well. At this rate, she’d have the wallpaper stripped and everything painted in a few weeks. Then she could concentrate on the floors.

That night, Claire dreamt of her house. It was completed, with warm buttery walls and gleaming golden pine wood floors. The trim and molding was buffed to a high shine, and everything was filled with beautiful handmade furniture, much like what Max’s kitchen table looked like. Delicate wood pieces, polished with a glossy finish. It was tastefully decorated and looked inviting. Like a home.

In her dream, Claire was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper out loud to Max, who stood at the stove, flipping pancakes. They were laughing together, the picture of domesticity, and as he brought a plate of pancakes to the table, he bent down and rubbed her belly, placing a kiss on it, before raising himself to sweep his lips across hers. Claire realized she was pregnant, as her hand protectively went to her belly to feel a large swell there. The feeling of happiness was overpowering, and even though she was aware it was a dream, she relished the sense of peace that it evoked.

When Claire woke up tucked into the covers of her bed neatly, she felt an undeniable sense of well-being. Remnants of the dream, she supposed. Knowing it was wishful thinking, she allowed herself the brief fantasy while she stretched of she and Max living together as a family in this house someday.

As tempting as it was, it was only a fantasy. She shook off the dream as she swung her legs out of bed. As fun as a relationship with Max might be, they would both be better off if they stuck with the friendship thing. She was sure of that.

Claire worked diligently on the house for the next several days, making wonderful progress. A couple of times, Summer came over to help and Claire enjoyed the company, but she worked well by herself too. And when Summer wasn’t there, she didn’t have to dodge questions about Max.

She had started taking breaks on the balcony outside her bedroom, where there was a nice view of her back yard, and the surrounding neighbors’ yards, including Max’s. The house wasn’t far from a Union Pacific switch station, and she could hear train whistles at all hours of the day or night. Sometimes it was a soothing sound, at other times it made her feel lonely.

He was really making progress on his deck. Day by day, Claire watched it grow until it became a huge part of her field of vision. That was probably due to the fact that she’d turned her lounge chair to face it, and she was obsessed with the man building it.

Max worked in the mornings. He listened to music on his earbuds, and was wholly focused on his work, hardly looking up at all. To her knowledge, he was completely unaware that she was watching him.

And she watched him.

She loved the way he moved. Every action was full of purpose, he didn’t pace back and forth between tasks, he moved fluidly and determinedly throughout his job. When he was finished for the day, he put everything away and took his tools into the shed behind his house.

His deck was massive. It had started out a standard ten by ten affair, tacked onto the back of his house. Now it was a multi-level thing, taking up most of his backyard. He’d added stone elements to it, and a bricked in outdoor eating area, complete with a huge picnic table, and Adirondack chairs that he’d made himself.

Claire watched him work and realized that he would be the one to help her with the exterior of her house, when it came to that part of her fixing up process. She could do the paint, but there was rotten wood to be replaced, and other features that she’d wanted to add and didn’t have a clue where to start. She made a mental note to talk terms with him soon.

But she wasn’t sure he was even speaking with her at the moment.

She hadn’t heard from him since the day at his house. She’d referred to it as the day of the breakdown. When he’d laid all his cards on the table, and she’d played fifty-two pick-up with them.

Friends.

Today was really warm for September, and she watched him as he peeled off his sweat-soaked tee shirt. It was time to admit to herself that she felt more for him than friendship. It had been a week since she’d dropped the F-bomb on him, and he hadn’t come over or called or anything. He hadn’t even looked at her house since then. She’d screwed up.

Bad.

M
ax was staining his deck today. He’d been working on it for three weeks now, and in the process completely fallen for the new neighbor. But she just wanted to be friends. He’d laid out his baggage for the first time ever, and she’d rejected it. He could understand why, but it didn’t hurt any less. So he was building the biggest, coolest deck he could. Because that’s what Max did.

He built stuff.

In the mornings he worked outside, then in the afternoons when it got hot, he took his work inside. He’d submitted three grants for the Serendipity Historical Society, hoping to get a semi-permanent job with the city. He’d even gotten dressed up and gone to meet with them to explain his process, as well as his plans for the renovations of the downtown buildings he’d submitted. Now he was just waiting to hear word from them.

And he’d built stuff. He’d made more shelves for what was now a library in his house. It had wall to wall shelves, even though he didn’t have enough books to put on them. It looked a little silly with one shelf of books, and nineteen empty shelves. But it’s what he’d done.

Making things had always been a way for Max to deal with problems. When Katherine had died and Max had moved back home, he’d gone to work building furniture to fill the empty house. His parents had retired to Florida, taking all of their belongings and leaving him the house. He didn’t want their stuff. He didn’t want his own stuff, because Katherine had picked most of it out.

So he built new stuff.

It kept him occupied for a couple of years, living off her life insurance policy, cursing the day he was born. He’d finally filled his house and realized that he needed to go outside his home and make an honest living. So he’d reconnected with some old contacts and started trying to write grants for Serendipity, while doing odd remodeling jobs for people.

Max smoothed the finish over the treated lumber with a practiced hand, watching the stain seep into the grain of the wood. If only life were that easy to change.

With the deck almost completed, he needed to throw some sort of party. A deck-warming party. He could pick up a brisket to smoke and a few chickens to grill, maybe see if he could find some seafood to throw on as well. Everybody else could bring a side dish. He’d invite Summer, see if Dalton was in town, maybe Juan would be around, he could bring his girl. He’d ask Claire to see if she’d come over. All of his friends.

He’d tried not to think about her. She’d been clear about her feelings for him, and he would honor that. He knew she watched him from the balcony upstairs, but he hadn’t acknowledged her. But he could see her from his study window, out there drinking iced tea, or beer, or coffee, looking at his backyard. She’d only be there for about ten minutes before going back inside to work, but she came outside several times a day.

He was terrified of his feelings for her. Fear trembled inside of him like tectonic plates rubbing against each other, ready to cause major damage at the slightest upheaval. He had loved Katherine, but he’d loved her like a favorite blanket, something that would always make him warm and comfortable. Claire was a woman that he felt like he could spend the rest of his life getting to know, and still wouldn’t understand everything about her. She was an enigma he needed to unravel.

“That’s pretty.” Her voice startled him and he splattered stain all over the deck, quickly going over it with the brush to smooth it into the wood.

“Thanks.” Setting the brush down, he turned to look at her, and forgot to breathe. It had been more than a week since he’d bared his soul to her and faced her rejection. His emotions around her were still raw, his desire still enflamed. God help him, he still wanted her.

He waited for her to say something. He leaned back so that he sat on his feet, hands on his knees and watched her warily.

“Um…I had a couple of questions for you.”

“Okay. I’m listening.”

“I need somebody to work on the outside of my house. Painting, replacing rotten wood, and some other stuff. Do you think that’s something you could do? I can’t pay much, but if we could work out a part payment, part trade, I’m hoping we might could find a satisfactory arrangement.” She was businesslike, her voice low and smooth, her words clipped, and Max’s heart sank.

Swallowing his disappointment, he said, “Sure. I need something else to work on. I’m going to be in between jobs soon.” He gestured to the deck. “By the way. Would you like to be the first invite to my deck-warming party?”

Her eyes lit up, a pleasant greenish color and Max felt a little better when she smiled at him warmly. Maybe this wouldn’t be all bad. This
friend
thing. After all, at least he would get to see her this way.

Wow. That sounded desperate.

“Sure! When?”

“Um…I don’t know. I haven’t planned that far yet. I just came up with the idea a few minutes ago.” He ran his hands through his hair, unwilling to let her off the hook. “How about Saturday afternoon?”

“Sounds great, Max. Thanks.” She sounded relieved, but he wasn’t sure.

“Great. See you Saturday, then.” Not knowing what else to say, he turned back to his brush and stain.

“Um…There was one other thing…”

He looked back at Claire, and the hesitant look on her face made hope flutter in his chest. He raised his eyebrows in a question.

“You had asked me out on a date…”

“Yeah, but you’ve made your feelings clear. I won’t make you uncomfortable or jeopardize our
friendship.
” He tried not to sound bitter, but was afraid he was unsuccessful in his endeavors.

“About that…”

She was killing him.

Setting the brush back down on the rim of the stain can, he stood. Max didn’t go any closer though, as he wasn’t at all sure what she wanted from him.

“Is the offer still good?”

Max wasn’t sure he believed what he was hearing. “You want to go out? You’re not messing with me?”

She had the grace to look chagrined. “Look, I’m really sorry about the other day. I know it was difficult for you to open up to me like that, and I stomped all over your feelings by dropping the f-bomb.”

“F-bomb?” He didn’t remember Claire using the word Fuck.

“Friends.” She said simply.

“Oh. So you don’t want to be friends?” He asked hopefully.

“I don’t know what I want, Max. It’s been…hard for me. I told myself no more relationships for a while, but you’re…different.”

Max risked a step closer, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say. Did he dare to leave himself open to Claire?

“There’s something between us, and I’m not sure what to do with it, but I’ve been missing your meddling this past week, and I want to see you again. A party on Saturday sounds great, but I want…” Her voice trailed off into indecision.

“You want what, Claire?” He prodded her.

She raised her arm and patted the top of her head, an unconscious gesture of deep thought, and he waited for her answer.

“I don’t know. But I think I need you to help me decide,” she finally said softly.

“I’ll pick you up tonight at 6:30. Do you like fried chicken?” Claire nodded, and Max repressed his triumphant smile. “Wear something comfortable.” She nodded again, but didn’t speak as she turned and walked down the steps of his deck.

Max finished staining the deck in record time.

T
hat gave Claire exactly seven and a half hours to get nervous. Deciding that she needed something to occupy her time, she went to the home improvement store to rent a floor sander. Since she would be charged for it by the day, she told them to deliver it tomorrow, knowing she wouldn’t get her money’s worth out of it today. Checking her watch, she realized that she now had six and a half hours left to get nervous before her date. The butterflies were already starting.

She owed it to Max to tell him everything. He’d done it, now she needed to lay her cards down and let him see all the jokers in her past.

Groaning aloud, she managed to find a can of paint to start painting the bathroom. Her heart wasn’t really in it anymore, but she had to keep busy or she would obsess about the impending date.

While she painted, Claire reflected on her past attempts at romance and wondered if Max could possibly turn out any different. She had met Tom through a co-worker, and he’d seemed great at first. They’d had a whirlwind romance, and ended up engaged. That hadn’t turned out well. Claire knew what today was, and she again tried to forget it, but even with a date tonight, she still couldn’t shake the depression of full-on rejection.