paint?” he said. “Worst color you can put on a wall.”
Lara focused on him and her eyes widened. “Jeremiah.”
“Thought I’d drop by for some R & R.”
“How did you find us?”
“Phone book.” He hooked his thumbs in the back pockets of his jeans. “Someone’s kid answered and gave me the address where you’re working today.”
“That would be my granddaughter.” The ladder man held out a hand. “She lives with us. Might as well be ours. I’m Bill Scroggins. My wife and I founded Rehab & Renew.”
“Pleased to meet you.” He shook the man’s hand. “I’m Jeremiah Maddox.”
“The architect?” Scroggins’s face sobered. “Listen, Mr. Maddox, this home is not for sale. Miss Ethel lives here, and we’re making a few repairs for her. I read in the paper about you tearing down that old building a couple years back. R & R won’t help you with that kind of thing. We do nothing but rehab.”
“I came to help.” He glanced at Lara. “To help her.”
“Me? You did?” She swallowed. “But I’m…I thought tonight…”
He took a step backward. “Hey, if I’m not needed here—”
“Whoa now, buddy.” Scroggins hand shot out and caught his arm. “We’ll take all the help we can get. Lara, how about if you put him to work? I’ve got to climb up on the roof and check the flashing around that chimney. Miss Ethel says it’s been leaking for years.”
As the older man walked away, Lara pushed the sticky handle of the brush into Jeremiah’s palm. “You can paint the trim in the living room. We don’t have enough white for walls. We use goofed-up paint for those.”
“Goofed-up?”
She headed for the house. “The paint stores sometimes mix colors wrong. Or a customer changes her mind and returns a few gallons. It’s cheap, and no one minds a slightly oddball shade when they’re getting a fresh coat on their walls.”
“Who pays for all this? The flashing, the shingles, the paint?”
Lara swung around, green eyes suddenly narrowed. “Look, why are you here, Jeremiah? If you’d rather donate money, just make out a check to R & R. This work isn’t about atonement. It’s about giving. Don’t do it unless you really want to.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“You came because of what I said last night. I guilted you into it.”
“I came for the blessing, Lara.”
Her expression softened. “Then you need to meet Miss Ethel.”
Jeremiah hesitated. He had come to be near Lara Crane. He spent the bulk of his time with developers, lawyers, draftsmen and designers. Teenagers took up what few hours remained in each day. Once in a while, he carved out time for something different.
As he climbed a set of rickety steps, ducked his head and entered a dimly lit room, Jeremiah felt a stab of doubt. Truth was, he didn’t really want to meet Miss Ethel or anyone else on this street. He certainly didn’t relish the idea of breathing paint fumes in this poorly ventilated house. He should have gone antiquing.
“Miss Ethel, this is Jeremiah Maddox,” Lara said. “He’s here to help.”
“Well, bless my soul! Aren’t you just the handsomest thing to come along for many a moon?”
Jeremiah peered down at a tiny, withered woman with sharp brown eyes and hands like bird claws. Toothless, she smiled up at him, and suddenly the image of Tobias Muraya flooded Jeremiah’s heart.
“How do you do, Miss Ethel?” he asked, dropping to one knee and gently taking fingers knotted with rheumatoid arthritis. She was seated in a large, saggy chair with gold velvet upholstery worn away on the arms.
“I’ve been better, let me tell you.” She spoke in a quavering voice and patted his hand as she talked. “I used to work for the telephone company, sweetheart. Back in the day, I was quite something. I could really get around—raised five children and buried two husbands. But I’m tired all the time now. My kidneys don’t work right, and my ticker’s nearly given out. I tell you what,
Lara focused on him and her eyes widened. “Jeremiah.”
“Thought I’d drop by for some R & R.”
“How did you find us?”
“Phone book.” He hooked his thumbs in the back pockets of his jeans. “Someone’s kid answered and gave me the address where you’re working today.”
“That would be my granddaughter.” The ladder man held out a hand. “She lives with us. Might as well be ours. I’m Bill Scroggins. My wife and I founded Rehab & Renew.”
“Pleased to meet you.” He shook the man’s hand. “I’m Jeremiah Maddox.”
“The architect?” Scroggins’s face sobered. “Listen, Mr. Maddox, this home is not for sale. Miss Ethel lives here, and we’re making a few repairs for her. I read in the paper about you tearing down that old building a couple years back. R & R won’t help you with that kind of thing. We do nothing but rehab.”
“I came to help.” He glanced at Lara. “To help her.”
“Me? You did?” She swallowed. “But I’m…I thought tonight…”
He took a step backward. “Hey, if I’m not needed here—”
“Whoa now, buddy.” Scroggins hand shot out and caught his arm. “We’ll take all the help we can get. Lara, how about if you put him to work? I’ve got to climb up on the roof and check the flashing around that chimney. Miss Ethel says it’s been leaking for years.”
As the older man walked away, Lara pushed the sticky handle of the brush into Jeremiah’s palm. “You can paint the trim in the living room. We don’t have enough white for walls. We use goofed-up paint for those.”
“Goofed-up?”
She headed for the house. “The paint stores sometimes mix colors wrong. Or a customer changes her mind and returns a few gallons. It’s cheap, and no one minds a slightly oddball shade when they’re getting a fresh coat on their walls.”
“Who pays for all this? The flashing, the shingles, the paint?”
Lara swung around, green eyes suddenly narrowed. “Look, why are you here, Jeremiah? If you’d rather donate money, just make out a check to R & R. This work isn’t about atonement. It’s about giving. Don’t do it unless you really want to.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“You came because of what I said last night. I guilted you into it.”
“I came for the blessing, Lara.”
Her expression softened. “Then you need to meet Miss Ethel.”
Jeremiah hesitated. He had come to be near Lara Crane. He spent the bulk of his time with developers, lawyers, draftsmen and designers. Teenagers took up what few hours remained in each day. Once in a while, he carved out time for something different.
As he climbed a set of rickety steps, ducked his head and entered a dimly lit room, Jeremiah felt a stab of doubt. Truth was, he didn’t really want to meet Miss Ethel or anyone else on this street. He certainly didn’t relish the idea of breathing paint fumes in this poorly ventilated house. He should have gone antiquing.
“Miss Ethel, this is Jeremiah Maddox,” Lara said. “He’s here to help.”
“Well, bless my soul! Aren’t you just the handsomest thing to come along for many a moon?”
Jeremiah peered down at a tiny, withered woman with sharp brown eyes and hands like bird claws. Toothless, she smiled up at him, and suddenly the image of Tobias Muraya flooded Jeremiah’s heart.
“How do you do, Miss Ethel?” he asked, dropping to one knee and gently taking fingers knotted with rheumatoid arthritis. She was seated in a large, saggy chair with gold velvet upholstery worn away on the arms.
“I’ve been better, let me tell you.” She spoke in a quavering voice and patted his hand as she talked. “I used to work for the telephone company, sweetheart. Back in the day, I was quite something. I could really get around—raised five children and buried two husbands. But I’m tired all the time now. My kidneys don’t work right, and my ticker’s nearly given out. I tell you what,
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