“Sorry. Of all the things you could ask for, I’m not giving you that one. I’ve already promised it to Felicity.”
A scorching wave of rage consumed her. The one thing she would want, and it was the one thing he wouldn’t give her, that he was going to give to that . . . Yeah, that figured. She wanted that boutique, but she’d need a good attorney to do it, and she didn’t know how she’d pay anyone for their legal services. Unless something changed, she’d be destitute.
“So when do you plan to tell your family? You know, we’re going over there for Christmas. What am I supposed to do, pretend that everything is fine?”
“That’s exactly what you’ll do,” Freddie told her, “if you want anything at all. Of course, you’re always such a bitch to everyone, they won’t know anything’s up.”
That seems to be where I live, Molly thought, between a rock and a hard place. Her mind went wild. What would she do? She hadn’t worked anywhere but the boutique since the kids were born. There was nothing else that she knew how to do. How would she make herself a living? Molly’s heart nearly stopped when she realized that all of the things she enjoyed were about to be a thing of the past.
“So do you want the house?” Freddie asked. “You can have it if you want it. We want to find somewhere else to live anyway, a place that you and I haven’t lived in.”
“No, I can’t take the house.” Molly tossed the last shred of her dignity to the wind. “I won’t be able to afford to take care of it or pay the taxes or insurance. I won’t have much of anything.”
“Suit yourself.” Freddie yawned. “Just thought I’d offer. Thought you might want to sell it for the money. But that means I need you to be out by the end of the first week of January so I can list it.”
Where in the hell would she go? “No problem.” She rolled over with her back to him. She had no idea where she’d go or what she’d do, but she sure as hell didn’t want to stay there.
Laying a Foundation
Love Under Construction Series
Book 1
by
Deanndra Hall
A Word from the Author . . .
This might not have been the first volume in the series, but it was the first novel. I think I enjoyed writing this book as much or more as anything I’ve ever done.
I’d had Nikki in my head for at least 12 years, and I had never had anywhere to put her or people with whom to entrust her. When I started to think about her seriously as the female protagonist of a book, it took less than an hour for Tony to form in my mind, and when his family and friends came along for the ride, I knew I was onto something. I wrote the whole thing, then realized that the character details would be better suited to their own volume. At the time I did this, I’d never seen another writer do anything like it; no one I knew had either. I did eventually find someone who did, and did it well, and I was glad I wasn’t the only one. That’s how The Groundbreaking was born; it was an offshoot of this book. And if you’re reading this, you’ve already had the opportunity to read the prequel. Now the fun begins.
Thanks to my baby, who continues to be my biggest supporter and fan. MSH, you have no idea how much I love you; even though I’m a writer, there are no words. Thanks too to Drue, Alicia, and Felicia for their undying support. I’d have quit if it weren’t for the three of you. You love my books and, for that, I love you.
Enjoy this book. It features characters well over 40 having the best sex of their lives, not a bunch of college kids or post-college kids who have no idea what great sex is. They’re honest, raw, sometimes raunchy, and very often funny, not to mention willing to explore and have a little frisky adventure. Come along and have one with them!
And now, as Tony would say, “Business is business.” Let’s get down to it and enjoy our stay in Louisville, Kentucky.
Love and happy reading!
Deanndra
Visit me at:
www.deanndrahall.com
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[email protected]
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facebook.com/deanndra.hall
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deanndrahall.blogspot.com
Check out my Substance B page at:
substance-b.com/DeanndraHall.html
Write to me at:
P.O. Box 3722, Paducah, KY 42002-3722
CHAPTER ONE
How did the glass get so dirty on the inside? It seemed as though she was constantly fighting the grime. Nikki dipped the squeegee into the bucket again, making quick, even passes, wiping the rubber strip with the rag, and dipping again. As soon as the window was clean, she could put out the new display.
“Hey, Nik, about done there? I could use some help,” Carol, her coworker at The Passionate Pansy, called out from the back.
“Boxes?” Nikki called back to her. She relished opening the crates, enjoying the beautiful blooms, sorting them, pricing them, and putting them into the walk-in cooler.
“Yeah, fourteen of them.”
“Fourteen? Are you kidding? Good grief, it’ll take us all morning!” Nikki stepped up her pace and finished with the window. “What in the world did Marla order?” She stared incredulously at the crates. “Where are we going to put all of this?”
“Wherever we can.” Carol pulled out her box cutter. “I don’t know how the cooler is going to handle all of this. I think she was thinking of the big prom push.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Nikki sighed. “Prom. I’d forgotten.” She pulled out a bundle of daisies dyed fuchsia. “Big hair, crazy eye shadow, fake nails, and stilettos on girls barely out of diapers. What fun.” She oozed sarcasm when she said, “I can hardly wait.”
“It’s worse now that they’ve made it mid-March to avoid spring break and finals. The girls are kinda nuts, what with prom two weeks before the break. I hear the tanning beds around here are booked solid. Hey, you know, you should go over to the school, volunteer to be a chaperone for prom. You might meet a nice algebra teacher.” Carol smiled.
“I don’t think so. Doesn’t sound like fun to me.” Nikki pulled out another bundle of daisies; these were dyed a bright, fake peacock blue.
“I don’t think you’d know fun if it bit you on the ass.” Carol glanced over at her. “You really should get a life.”
“I have a life, thank you very much,” Nikki responded, expressionless. But that’s not true, she thought. I don’t have a life. At least not much of one.
“Aw, honey, you’ve just got to jump in, you know? You can do it,” Carol said, not looking at Nikki. “You just have to want to.”
Problem was, she didn’t want to. She had no life, and that was fine with her. Just struggling through the day was a small victory. If the dog’s not barking and snarling, don’t tease it, right? Just walk on by.
The gym Nikki had joined four years earlier was one of the smallest in the Louisville area, but she liked it because it was small, clean, and never crazy-busy. She stowed her gear in the locker and headed out onto the floor. First the cardio theater, then the weights, followed by a stretching routine – her customary drill. No one noticed how she looked, but she felt better when she exercised, so she kept it up.
She looked around briefly; no one unusual. Nikki had made up names for most of the people she saw repeatedly at the gym, usually something to do with their appearance. It was her way of helping herself feel more comfortable in a room full of people she didn’t know. There was Baseball Cap; Boobalicious, the buxom, curvaceous brunette next to her on the treadmill; and Fuzzy, the young guy with the enormous afro. Across the cavernous room was Blondie, one of the more appealing guys who showed up at the gym on a regular basis. But he looked like he was twelve years old, at least to Nikki. Beak came over to Blondie and seemingly asked the young adonis to spot him. She wasn’t fond of the nickname Beak, but his nose was huge, so it fit.
Frick and Frack were at the smoothie bar, chattin
g up the young girl who was working that evening. To all appearances they were identical twins, and probably the youngest guys there. Nikki thought they might actually still be in high school.
She didn’t see anyone else. It was a pretty quiet evening, even with the televisions blaring in the cardio theater. Over the years, people had come and gone, but she was still there, and why not? She sure didn’t have anything else going on.
And then he rounded the corner from the locker room: The Italian. Even though he’d been there the entire four years Nikki had been coming to the gym, every time he strode through Nikki held her breath. Now, that was a man. She detected the swivel of Boobalicious’s head in her peripheral vision; she was watching too, would have to be dead not to. Of course he probably wasn’t Italian, but he certainly looked it. He had dark, wavy hair down to his shoulders, and one lock always escaped to fall over his right eye; the rest he kept pulled back into a stubby ponytail, just tight enough to show off the tiniest bit of gray at his temples. A hint of five o’clock shadow graced his lower jaw, and his lips looked ever-so-soft. Unlike the younger guys who came into the gym, his body wasn’t wiry and sinewy; he was built like a man, firm and sturdy, with broad, thick shoulders, and his dark, olive skin showed off every ripple. Even though he probably knew full well how good-looking he was, his eyes were soft and kind, with tiny smile lines at the corners. As he walked past on his way to the free weights, he smiled and nodded at Nikki. She felt her insides turn tingly and warm and her face redden, and she smiled and looked at the floor. Seems like a nice guy, she thought. How old was he? Forty? Forty-five? Fifty? It was hard to tell, but it didn’t matter. That man was way out of her league.
Wonder what would happen, she thought, if I were forward enough to walk up to him? Talk to him? Find out his name and a little bit about him? That would never happen; after all, she’d been seeing him in that gym for over four years and she’d never worked up the courage. Someone like Boobalicious, beautiful and stacked, might have the nerve, but not Nikki. Besides, people at the gym never talked. They were there to work out, nothing more. They didn’t want their workout routines disturbed, and she most certainly didn’t want to be rude.
Nikki watched him move across to the weight area and pick up a couple of dumbbells. He stood with his back to the rest of the room, looking in the mirror, checking his form as he curled the weights. She stepped off the treadmill and, instead of going to the weight area, she bolted for the locker room. It was just too torturous to see him there, knowing she’d never have the courage to even speak to him.
Finally home in her little house in the Middletown township, she ate her leftovers out of their storage containers. She fed Bill and Hillary their dinner while she cleaned up her own dinner mess, then wandered down the hallway to the bedroom, the two poodles following at her heels. It had been a long day and she needed to unwind.
Nikki lit her Candle of Intention, curled up in the bed, and drew the dogs close. She was about to open her latest read when something crossed her mind.
Grabbing a slip of paper and a pencil, Nikki crossed the room to the candle. She lit it every night in hopes that something would come to her, some positive move she could make to finally improve what was left of her life. But tonight she wanted to do something different. Which goddess? Clíodhna, queen of the Bean-sídhe, the Banshees – she’d do. Nikki hesitated for a few minutes, trying to come up with rhymes that made sense. Then she wrote on the paper:
Clíodhna, queen of the Banshees,
Hear my solemn plea.
Send the Banshees’ keening forth
And bring someone to me.
As I ask it,
So mote it be.
Hmmmm . . . would that do it? She tore the corners off of the paper and dropped them into the candle’s flame; they flared momentarily and then ashed away. Then she began to read the poem, nine times aloud, visualizing someone coming toward her. She wasn’t looking for a lover or another husband, just hoping for someone to maybe go to the movies with her, or on a picnic, or maybe to a ballgame. No big deal. Maybe gay! A gay guy friend would be nice and safe. When she’d finished reading, she rolled the poem up and tied it with a piece of thread from the drawer of the chest on which the candle sat. Then she lit the tiny tube from the candle’s flame and watched the paper curl and turn to white ash.
Nikki climbed back into bed. The rest was up to the Universe; she had done her part. All she could do now was think positively and keep her eyes open. She turned off the light and sighed, staring into the darkness until her lids grew heavy and sleep finally found her.
CHAPTER TWO
Blink, and something got screwed up. How exactly did that happen so fast, and how did the guys make it look so easy? Tony drummed his fingers on his desk, listening to Cal tell him the crew had put the wrong kind of reinforcement in the concrete forms and all of it was going to have to come out before the pour the next day.
“And exactly where was the person who was supposed to be supervising this?” Tony asked.
“At the hospital with his wife. They had their baby,” Cal shrugged.
“Well, I guess Walters Construction can’t compete with a baby,” Tony grinned. Cal visibly relaxed. “You know how I feel about this kind of thing. I don’t want it to happen, but sometimes it does. We fix it, we go on. And we try not to have it happen again. Right?”
“Exactly!” Cal agreed enthusiastically. Tony had to fight to keep from laughing. The short, bald, stocky guy was definitely the best foreman Walters Construction had ever had, but he was the epitome of high-strung. Tony took everything very seriously too but, unlike Cal, he tried not to give himself a stroke over anything. Virtually everything could be fixed, but the goal was to not have to fix anything.
“Okay, so go pull the mesh, replace it, and get that truck down there. We need that concrete poured tomorrow morning or we’re going to be behind schedule.” Tony rose from his chair and crossed the room to the coffee pot. “I’d really like to get this job finished ahead of schedule. We’ve got the possibility of landing the contract for that new hospital in Willisburg and I’d hate to have to pass because we’re dragging ass on this job.”
“You got it, boss. Anything else before I go?”
“Yeah,” Tony turned and grinned. “Tell Matt I said congratulations and I hope Andrea and the baby are doing great. Boy or girl?”
“Girl. Madison Paige.”
“Thanks. I’ll be out on the jobsite tomorrow morning if I don’t see you before then.” Tony shook Cal’s hand as the younger man headed out the door. He turned back to his coffee, dropped one sugar cube in and stirred.
“Hey, Cheryl?”
“Yeah?” Tony’s secretary called back.
“Could you please send flowers over to the hospital for Andrea Fowler?”
“Already done. Took care of it first thing this morning.”
“Ah, you’re a good one, Cheryl Brooks. Remind me of that on Secretary’s Day, would you please?” Tony laughed.
Cheryl called back, “Yeah, I’m on it!” She was still laughing when he closed his office door.
He made a note to himself to find out exactly when Secretary’s Day was. He owed it to Cheryl to treat her like the valuable employee she was. She’d gotten him out of more than a few jams over the six years she’d worked there, and she was always one step ahead of him. That was her greatest asset, as far as he was concerned.
Tony sat back down with his coffee and looked at the bid package for the hospital project. Getting the contract would be a plus, but definitely not their bread and butter. Underneath it was the bid package for the new runway and hangars in Lexington; now that would definitely be bread and butter. He’d have to hire more employees and buy more equipment if they won that one. Those were the kinds of jobs Walters Construction wanted to reel in. He’d have to see what the acquisitions department could do, have the numbers crunched, run it by Vic.
He glanced up at the clock. If he left in the next ten minutes and g
ot to the gym, he could be home, showered, eating, and parked on the sofa in plenty of time for the tipoff. He rinsed out his coffee cup, grabbed his gym bag, and yelled goodbye to Cheryl as he headed to his truck.
Tony liked the gym. Chris, the manager, always kept it spotless. Tony had a well-appointed workout room in his home in Shelbyville, but the house in the Louisville township of Anchorage where he spent his work week was too small, so the gym was a necessity.
He didn’t know any of the others who frequented the gym, but they all seemed friendly. He did know a few of their names, like Todd, the young blond guy. And there was Alvin, who had the most incredibly large nose Tony had ever seen. There were also a couple of twins who came in and out, but he didn’t know their names.
As for women, there were only two there on a regular basis. There was Kelly, who had the largest breasts east of the Mississippi. They were fake, had to be. No one had real tits that big. Even in a sports bra, they were enormous. He’d been noticing her there for the last couple of years.
And there was another woman – probably not a lot younger than he was? – who was usually there in the evenings. She was small, fair, blond, and trim. He never spoke to her, even after seeing her there for at least four years, but lately he’d taken to smiling and nodding at her. She always smiled back, but then she’d look down, like she was shy. He’d love to talk to her or Kelly, but that was really frowned upon in gym etiquette – he only knew Kelly’s name because she’d been featured in an advertisement for the gym. He’d learned early on that guys who tried to pick up women at a gym were considered creepy. When it came to women, he was shaky enough already – he certainly didn’t need the “creepy” label.
Ah, women. They were impossible to figure out. Well, okay, it was probably a little easier when they weren’t completely nuts. Nuts like Dottie. Crazy. Certifiably insane. Mentally ill. Chronically mentally ill. How exactly did you describe someone like Dottie? Cunningly insane? Yeah, that was more like it – cunningly, irritatingly insane. Her illness would’ve been easier to take if she hadn’t been such a bitch on top of it. So good riddance.