A Second Chance House Read online

  “You just haven’t met the right woman yet.” Savannah never gave up. She was so much like their mother. Blaise missed her.

  “My guest is Cash. He’s coming for the summer. I’m picking him up tomorrow at the airport.”

  “And you want a buffer of my crazy family his first night in town?”

  Heat filled his cheeks. “I thought—”

  She laughed. “I know what you thought. Tomorrow at six. We’ll throw steaks on the grill. And then you can tell me what happened that brought Cash here, because I know he didn’t call begging to spend the summer in town.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “Blaise, I’m glad he’s coming. It’s exactly what you and he need, and don’t let Colton bully you into going on tour before September.”

  “How did you know about that?”

  “I know my brothers.”

  Chapter Four

  Grace hated lawyers. It was an irrational hate, but lawyers represented the end of her marriage and the division of her assets. Lawyers signified the moment in her adult life when nothing would be the same. All her careful planning for a life without turmoil had been for nothing. A lawyer had seen to that. Okay, Larry had seen to that, but why split hairs?

  She fidgeted on the blue silk sofa in the lobby of Hoke Carter, Attorney-at-Law. The office smelled like a bottle of gladiola perfume exploded. The smell made her head hurt. The southern summer heat had followed her in and clung to her skin despite the air-conditioning humming in the distance. A glass of untouched iced tea dripped condensation on the coffee table in front of her. The receptionist had added sugar. Who takes sugar in their tea?

  A picture of a horse and his jockey winning first place hung askew on the wall. Was Mr. Carter one of the people surrounding the horse in the picture? He must be a successful lawyer if he owned a racehorse.

  Jenn came barreling through the glass doors. “I’m so sorry about that.” She dropped down on the sofa, brushing her damp hair off her face. “It is so hot in this town. Anyway, you won’t believe what’s happening back at my shop. I won’t bore you with the details now because I know you have a lot on your mind, and rightfully so, but when I get home, some heads are going to roll. I’m telling you that.” She fanned herself with a Forbes magazine.

  “Ms. Starr,” a sweet, southern voice said. “Mr. Carter will see you now.”

  Grace and Jenn followed the petite blonde woman wearing a black pencil skirt and white blouse through a maze of hallways. Grace wasn’t sure if she’d remember how to get back.

  Her hands began to sweat. How was she going to sell a house in Tennessee when she lived in New Jersey? She couldn’t possibly live in this heat box of a state. Not with her daughter up north. And then what if it didn’t sell? She needed a better plan. She had let Larry’s news get the best of her, and now she was sweating buckets as the reality of her decision to fly south hit her. “Maybe this is a bad idea,” she whispered to Jenn.

  Jenn placed a hand on her arm. “You’re the brainchild of this one.”

  The sweet blonde gestured them into the corner office. Mr. Carter came around his executive desk. He was a short man with a shock of white hair and a smile that crinkled up his eyes. His hearty handshake had Grace’s elbow feeling overworked.

  “This is my friend Jenn Caldini. I brought her along. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Welcome.” He pumped Jenn’s arm too. “Please have a seat.”

  Grace perched on the end of the antique-style chair and gripped her hands in her lap.

  Mr. Carter pulled his chair in and moved folders to the corner of his spotless desk. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “Yes,” Jenn said.

  “No. Thank you, Mr. Carter. I’d like to get right to the point, if we could.”

  Jenn’s forehead wrinkled, and her hands shot out, palms up. Grace shook her head. Jenn slumped in her chair.

  “Please call me Hoke. Even at my age, when I hear ‘Mr. Carter’ I look over my shoulder for my daddy, and he’s been gone some years.” He pressed the button on the phone. “Ginny, please bring in that strong coffee I like so much. Thank you.” He turned back to Grace and Jenn and offered a smile that warmed up his blue eyes. “My wife only lets me have one cup. I have to sneak the other one here.” He clapped his hands together. “Let’s get right down to it, then. The donor of the house wishes to remain anonymous. I have papers for you to sign that state you won’t go looking for their identity and if you happen to stumble upon it in some fashion, the gift is void and the house is no longer yours.”

  “I still don’t understand how or why this person chose me. I’ve never even been to Heritage River.”

  “I assure you the donor knew exactly what they were doing. The house is yours.”

  Ginny entered carrying a tray with a carafe of coffee and three mugs.

  “Ah, finally, my second cup.” He stood and offered a mug to Jenn, who gladly whisked it out of his hands. “Are you certain you don’t want any, Grace? I can call you Grace, can’t I? I feel like we’ve met somewhere before.”

  Heat filled her cheeks. “Of course you can call me Grace. But I know we’ve never met, unless you’ve been to Jersey.”

  “Can’t say I have.” He tipped the mug as an offering and savored his first sip. “Now where were we?”

  “You were saying Grace can’t find out who gave her the house.” Jenn cradled her coffee. “Isn’t this kind of thing unusual? She can’t even know why she was chosen? There has to be a catch somewhere.”

  Hoke eased into his chair. “Oh, there’s a catch.”

  “I knew it.” Jenn slapped Grace’s arm.

  Grace jumped in her seat. “Ouch. What’s this so-called catch?” Did she really want to hear this?

  “The house needs some fixing. You have to live in it during the renovations. You can sell or stay after, but if you don’t live in it during, there’s no deal.”

  “We might as well go home now.” Jenn stood.

  “Sit. I haven’t decided to go home yet.” But going home was exactly what she wanted to do. She was just thinking she couldn’t live down here, and now she would have to? That was insane. She had a life in Jersey. She couldn’t take a sabbatical from it. How could she agree to such a thing? “Can I see the house first before I decide?”

  “Of course. The donor is providing money for the renovations. No need to worry about that.”

  “Is there a time frame for fixing the house up?”

  “You aren’t seriously considering this offer, are you?” Jenn returned her coffee to the tray. “This could be a scam. I know I agreed to come down here with you, but now that I’m hearing you have to live in the house while you fix it up, something sounds wrong. We should go, Grace.”

  Hoke stood and pulled up his trousers. “Ms. Caldini, these circumstances aren’t ordinary, I grant you, but there is no scam involved. My law practice has been around for decades. My granddaddy started it up when that road out there was nothing more than dirt. I wouldn’t scam anyone anymore than I’d steal their seat at church on Sunday.”

  He turned to Grace. “If you decide to take on the house, you’ll sign the papers that say you won’t try and find your gift giver. The other papers you’ll sign put the house in your name. The house is yours. If you decide you don’t want to fix it, you sign the house back to me. You can’t sell it as is. The donor doesn’t want that either.”

  “Let me make sure I understand you. I live in the house and fix it up. When that’s done, I can sell it?” She wiped her sweaty hands on her legs. She might be able to pull this off. Chloe could stay with Larry. Grace tried not to picture Larry padding around in his boxers with the hottie sitting in her kitchen. “If I change my mind at any time, I sign the house back to you and I walk away? No questions asked.” An escape hatch. She could swallow that.

  “That’s right.” Hoke’s smile warmed his eyes again.

  “This is crazy. You can’t possibly be considering this,” Jenn said.

  �
��Let’s go see the house. How bad could it be?”

  ****

  The house on Dogwood Drive tipped on its side. Or maybe that was the panic making her head spin. Grace took four long slow breaths. Of course the house was a piece of crap. What did she expect to see? A mansion? Well, at least something that had seen the wet bristles of a paintbrush in the past ten years.

  That wasn’t the worst of it. The broken front wooden steps led to a sagging porch. The shutters—maybe in their prime the color green, but now the color of overcooked broccoli—hung on their sides. Yellowed curtains hung like limp pasta in the dirt-covered windows. The grass was nothing more than sand worn over by years of footsteps and quite possibly a car. Grace took another four slow breaths.

  “We’re not going in there. We’ve seen enough. Tell Mr. Carter he can keep the house. Grace doesn’t want it,” Jenn said to Dixie Bordeux, the realtor who was squeezed into her white linen suit and whose ankles puddled around the tops of her white pumps. She dangled the house keys off her perfectly manicured pink nails. The polish matched the pink stain on her lips.

  “Hang on a second.” Grace gripped Jenn’s arm for support. “Let’s just take a look. We’re here, aren’t we?”

  “Why are you so bent on seeing more of this house? Look at it.” Jenn stabbed a finger toward the leaning structure. “You can’t live here.” Her eyes grew to the size of boiled eggs. “Maybe Larry is the giver. He’s trying to get you out of the way while he slides into your house with his floozy. He forces you down here for eternity, thinking you’re getting something great out of the deal, and he never has to run into you again.”

  She dropped Jenn’s arm. “Stop it. Larry doesn’t have anything to do with this. This is about me. I’m going inside that house, and I’m going to take a look around. You can wait out here if you want.” She headed for the porch but stopped and turned around. “If I decide to keep this house, it’s because I need something new in my life. Everyone around me is moving on. What will I have after that?”

  She didn’t want this house. She didn’t need this house. But she didn’t want anyone telling her what to do either.

  Sweat trickled down the back of Grace’s neck into the collar of her cotton buttoned-down shirt. The southern sun was hotter than she was used to. All this sweating would ruin her clothes. The mold-filled air inside that house would probably do it faster. “I still can’t believe this house was meant for me. Why would someone choose me? I’m nobody special.”

  Dixie offered a thin smile. Grace wanted to like her. Dixie’s pale blue eyes smiled back at Grace, but the house and the situation made it impossible to warm to her. Her soft voice held a hint of southern charm. “Everyone’s special, darlin’. You can rest assured this house is a gift from the almighty.” She pointed to the sky. “I’ve known Hoke Carter for years. His daddy and mine used to go fishing together. Why, he practically grew up in my backyard. He’s the salt of the earth, that one. He wouldn’t let anyone pull a fast one on you. This house was meant for you. I know she doesn’t have on her prettiest face, but give her half a chance. She’ll be a debutant before you’re done with her.”

  “See,” Grace said. “Dixie knows.”

  “You’re a lucky woman, is all.” Dixie wrestled the key in the lock and swung the door open. “My momma always told me to count my blessings. I’d say that’s what you should do with this house.”

  “This house is not a blessing,” Jenn said.

  “Hey, Debbie Downer. Keep it to yourself.” False bravado, the desire to prove to herself she could move on, and the desire to prove Jenn wrong pushed Grace’s legs forward and through the doorway.

  She ran a finger along the wall and brought it back covered in grime. She tried not to gag.

  “This is the living room.” Dixie swept the room with her elegant hand. “You see how much natural light you get in here. With a little elbow grease, you can have those windows sparkling.”

  Pounding began behind Grace’s eyes, and she pinched the bridge of her nose. She wanted to go home. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? There would be no home. Larry and his chick were there now, measuring windows. So the idea of turning around and flying back north to the shattered remains of her warm and safe life made her skin itch almost as badly as this house did.

  “Jenn, look.” Grace glided across the room on her make-believe positive attitude. “This mantel is mahogany. I could sand and restain it. It would be pretty.”

  “Since when do you know anything about mahogany?”

  “I watch home-makeover shows.” She stuck out her tongue and took off for another room. “Look in here.”

  Dixie and Jenn followed.

  “The kitchen is cozy. Sure, the appliances have to go, but a little paint on the cabinets and they’d be good as new. I really could fix this up and sell it.” Grace leaned back against the cabinets as if she’d discovered some gem, while hoping she wasn’t ruining her clothes. She ignored the cabinet door that fell off its hinge.

  “The kitchen receives a lot of morning light,” Dixie said.

  “From that tiny window?” Jenn said.

  “Just use your imagination, Jenn.” Grace wasn’t sure she had an imagination of her own. She’d start with a list. Lists always made her itchy skin settle down. Lists meant order, and order meant peace. Larry hated her lists, but she didn’t know that until recently. She didn’t know her ex-husband at all, it seemed.

  Dixie handed her the keys. “Will you be hiring someone to do the work, or will you be doing it yourself?”

  “I, um, didn’t realize how much work there would be.” Grace peeked around the corner to the pink bathroom that screamed 1953. Well, that would have to go too. She didn’t know the first thing about renovating a house. Sure, she could decorate. She’d pulled every detail together in her house back in Silverside, but she didn’t know how to restain hardwood floors or break up tile, and what if they needed to rip out walls and fix electrical? She took another long breath. “Do you know anyone?”

  “The local contractor is Beau Carroll. Everyone hires Beau. I’ll send him by later today to have a look-see, and he’ll tell you what you’re up against.” Dixie waved her hand in the air, and the dust particles danced around her fingers.

  Grace suppressed the urge to sneeze and wash her hands.

  “But honestly, sugar, nothing a little bleach won’t fix.” Dixie pushed her smile higher, forcing her cheeks to close her eyes.

  “This place needs more than a little bleach.” Jenn crossed her arms over her chest.

  She ignored Jenn’s comment. “I might like to get multiple estimates.” How could she make an informed decision by speaking to only one person?

  Dixie laughed. “Beau is the best. You won’t need anyone else. You know, I’m surprised he never bought this house for himself. He could’ve fixed it up real nice and flipped it.” Dixie shrugged. “No matter. You’re here now, and we’re right glad to have you. Welcome to Heritage River.”

  “What are the neighbors like?” Jenn peered out the dirty window.

  “Most folks keep to themselves. You’ve got the Bucknells across the street. Sady and Mo been there forty years. Raised four boys. They’re good people. On your left is Miles. He lives alone since his wife died in 2005. He knows when you can rake your leaves and place them at the curb and when you have to bag them. He keeps track of the sprinkler rules too, but you don’t have any here, so he won’t be reminding you to turn them off.”

  “He sounds like a peach.” Jenn turned back toward them.

  “The house on your other side is only occupied once a year or so. That family has owned the house for a long time. First the parents and then the middle boy. He won’t bother you. He sleeps all day and works at night. And like I said, he isn’t there much.”

  “What’s he a bartender or something?” Grace said.

  Dixie laughed again. “Far from that. He’s our resident celebrity. You must’ve heard of the band Savage?”

  Jenn took a st
ep toward Dixie. “Savage was my favorite band growing up.”

  “Well, lucky day. Blaise owns the house now. Bought it from his siblings some years back.”

  “I remember that band. Whatever happened to them?” Grace said.

  “They’re playing amusement parks and small theaters now. It’s a shame. They used to sell out arenas,” Jenn said.

  “Is he married?” Grace had read about the rock bands of the past and how they tore apart hotels and had women in every city. Not to mention the drugs they did. What kind of a neighbor would this Blaise Savage be?

  “I heard he got divorced because his wife couldn’t stand his cheating. I read it in one of those trash mags,” Jenn said. “Supposedly he’d have hot women ride the tour bus with them while his wife stayed home raising their son.”

  Dixie’s eyebrows squished together. “I don’t know the details. He never brought his wife here. I heard she didn’t like our small town. Wanted the bright lights of the big city. When they got divorced, she took their son and moved back west.”

  If the mother took her son and ran, there must be more to the story, but Grace didn’t bother to say anything. She wouldn’t be making friends with her neighbors. That wasn’t the plan.

  “Is he there now?” Jenn wiped the dirt from the window and peered out.

  “Jenn,” Grace warned.

  “What? I’m curious.”

  “Back a few weeks now. Hurt himself. Taking some time off to heal. I’m sure you’ll see him over the fence. Not sure how long he’s staying, though. Probably be out of here like lightning. Well, I must be running along. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me.” Dixie waved and marched out into the hot sun.

  Grace closed the door and leaned her back against it. The heat forced itself against her. She was hot, and the house was miserable. And now she’d be living next to a rock star. He probably had parties all night long and played loud music. Women probably paraded in and out of that house. Just thinking about the number of women he must’ve slept with made her skin itch.