Stef Ann Holm by Lucy Back (books to read in your 30s TXT) 📗

because Raul was already booked. And another asking her if she knew where Raul was, he wasn’t picking up his cell.

Certainly not the most promising leads, but while she’d had them captive, she’d mentioned she was available Friday night and made a delicious tuna Cozumel and beefsteaks with mustard-herb rub.

No takers. Not yet, anyway. She’d get them. She knew it only took one client to put the word out.

“Mom, where’s my skateboard?” Matt asked, standing in the living room surrounded by boxes.

She smiled at him. Her boy. He went with the flow, adapted easily, and he had such a good heart in him. Shaggy brown hair fell over his brows and he had a smattering of freckles on his face. He wore a pair of Levi’s and skater shoes, his T-shirt front dirty with the purple juice of a Popsicle he’d eaten after dinner.

“I’m not sure, honey. Try the porch.”

“That porch freaks me out. Is it going to fall down?”

“I hope not.”

The inside of the house was just as bad as the outside, and now that she was in the midst of it, Lucy could easily become overwhelmed. She hadn’t wanted to move in much of their furniture until she got things cleaned up.

Calling her rental a house wasn’t exactly accurate. It was more like a shack on the outskirts of a subdivision, but she tried to make it sound like an adventure to the boys. Matthew was young enough that he bought into it; Jason thought she was being lame.

The front room had a thick log pole in the middle to support the second-story loft, which was one large area—enough space for two twin beds and dressers. A balcony was attached to the loft so the boys could step outside and view the stars. The downstairs was comprised of a living room, kitchen, master bedroom and the only bathroom. The walls were in bad shape and needed paint. The pan on the hot water heater showed signs of rust, and when she turned the kitchen faucet on, the pipes reverberated through the wall of missing tile on the backsplash.

They had a wood-burning stove situated on cinder blocks, and it looked to be in decent shape. Bud had left firewood inside, as well as a woodpile toppling over at the side of the house. It would come in handy this winter. The floor planks were rough-hewn and, in spots, uneven. She’d have to figure out how to make the sofa not wobble once she brought it in.

In the bedroom, her girlie vanity appeared out of place beneath the elk head hanging on the wall. She didn’t have a ladder or else she would have taken it down.

But overall, the house wasn’t as dire as Jason had made it out to be when they were eating lunch today at Opal’s.

Lucy just hoped and prayed Jason would adjust and fit in. She wanted more than anything for her oldest son to rebuild his life after Gary. She’d had Jason in family counseling with her and Matt, but it hadn’t helped. People only got from counseling what they put in, and Jason had just sat on the chair and didn’t say a whole lot. He was filled with rage. She knew it, she sensed it. She didn’t think he’d do anything stupid, but she knew it stemmed from a deep-rooted hurt.

And the irony was—she, more than anyone else, understood. Because that’s how she’d felt about Gary’s leaving—but Jason couldn’t see through his own pain to reach out to her.

Patience, Lucy kept telling herself.

Patience and love.

She was here for her boys. She tried to remain upbeat and optimistic, even when she heard the crash outside.

Wiping her wet hands down the front of her shirt, Lucy ran out the front door.

Matt stood on the edge of the porch, his hands over his head to ward off something falling.

“What happened?” She made her way quickly to him.

He silently pointed.

The support post lay in the front yard, and the porch above him sloped dangerously low. Yanking him out of the way, she brought him toward the entry.

Jason filled the screen door, hands on the frame. He had that annoyed look on his face—the one that sometimes reminded her of Gary. She wanted to smack it away, but of course, she refrained.

With Matt safely tucked next to the cabin, Lucy went into the yard. “Jason, come out here and help me prop the post back up so the porch doesn’t fall down.”

They managed to get the post shoved back into position and as secure as she could wedge it for now. She’d have to tell Bud about it, or maybe get out her tools and try and fix it herself, since he already knew about it, and the deal was she was getting this place “as is.”

“What’d you do, you idiot?” Jason barked at his brother.

“Nuttin’! I just leaned on it looking for my skateboard.”

“It’s in our crap for a room.”

“Jason, that’s no way to talk,” Lucy exclaimed, reprimanding him.

Jason’s hair fell past his T-shirt collar. He glanced at her before stuffing his hands into his pockets, but didn’t apologize.

“Excuse me?” she said, waiting.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. Then, as if the hostility of the world were on his shoulders, he blurted in a snappish tone, “But Matt was being a butthead to lean on the porch. This stink-hole place sucks the big one. I hate it here.”

Inhaling, Lucy counted to three. She knew if she spoke the first thoughts that came to mind, she’d regret it.

A moment later, and calmer now, she said, “Jason, I’m sorry you don’t like that we moved, but it was for the best, and I’m sure once we get settled in and you meet some friends, you’ll enjoy the change of pace.”

“No, I won’t. We don’t even have an Internet connection.”

That was true. The house was wired with an old, three-prong telephone system. Corded phones were anchored in the kitchen, master bedroom and even the bathroom. They weren’t connected. Thank goodness for cell phones.