Mister Fixit, Page 2

  “That must be hard for you,” Rose says, oblivious to my internal struggle, “raising her for all those months and then having her taken away.” She puts her teacup down. “You still see her, though, I imagine.” She waits for me to reassure her.

  “Yes, of course. I’m welcome at their home anytime I want to be there.”

  “Do you go? Do you visit?”

  I shrug. “I want to.”

  “But you don’t.” She lowers her chin, but keeps her eyes on me. She looks like a grade school teacher waiting for me to admit I didn’t do my homework.

  I shake my head, my heart aching. “No. I think about it a lot, but I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because… she’s settling into her new life, with her dad and her … new mother.” My voice catches on the last word. I hate that girl who took my place in Cassie’s life. Sarah. The mere word alone makes me want to spit on this pretty Aubusson carpet.

  Rose’s face goes soft. “Aww, honey, she’s not taking your place.”

  I frown, wondering if Rose is reading my mind at this point.

  She continues. “You’re going to be the most special aunt that little girl will ever have. No one can take that away from you.”

  I wave my hand around, trying to dissipate the heavy emotions that are hanging over our teatime. “No, I know that. I’m not worried about it. I saw them at my brother’s wedding, and everything was fine. I’m just busy. Actually, I’m thinking about buying a fixer-upper and doing the work myself.”

  She sits back, a smile lighting up her face. “Really? Well, that’s exciting. And that’ll keep you busy, that’s for sure. Not something you could have done with a baby around.” She puts her hands on her thighs. “Good for you. When will you start?”

  I had only been tossing the idea around in my head before, but now that I’ve said it out loud, it seems like the perfect plan. I have money, I have time, and I have way too much going on in my head. Like Rose said, I need a distraction.

  “Today. I was just heading out to go house hunting.” I’m immediately energized, like everything I’ve been doing for the past month has been a complete waste of time. Mooning around my apartment, mourning the loss of my pseudo-motherhood … it was a mistake. Life is what it is, and I can’t change most of it. Why cry over the parts I have no control over? There’s no point. I can change this part, the part where I have too much time on my hands, and I can do it now. The only thing stopping me is not having a property.

  “Do you have a realtor?” she asks.

  I shake my head, realizing as she posed the question that I haven’t done a single thing yet to prepare myself for this grand adventure. My parents, were they still alive, would listen to me now and tell me I was completely nuts and suggest I seek therapy. Rose, on the other hand, stands and walks over to a gorgeous walnut desk in the corner of the room near her shelves. “I have a friend whose son is a realtor. He specializes in this kind of thing if you’d like his number.”

  “Sure. Of course. That’d be great.”

  She takes out a binder filled with business cards and then carefully transcribes a number from one of them to a piece of paper. After putting everything back in its place, she walks over to me and hands her note over. “His name is Dicky. His father and my husband were colleagues.”

  I look at the careful script on the page. “Dicky Dickerson,” I say, trying to keep a straight face.

  Rose sighs. “Yes, not very nice of his parents, was it?”

  I burst out laughing and then throw my hand up over my mouth to try and stop more hilarity from coming out. I’m liable to get rolling and be unable to stop if I’m not careful. My emotions are teetering on the edge of crazytown.

  Rose pats me on the shoulder and goes back to her chair. “Some people just can’t see any farther than the ends of their noses, can they? Lucky for us, we’re more self-aware than that.”

  I bite my lip to keep from laughing again.

  “Would you like some more tea?” She leans forward in anticipation of a yes.

  I stand. “No, thank you. I need to get going.” I hold the paper out and wave it a little. “I have to give Mr. Dickerson a call and see what I can find out there. I’m anxious to get started.”

  She stands, using her hands on her thighs to steady herself. “Thank you for stopping by. You’re welcome any time, you know.” We walk to the front door together. “I hope you don’t plan to move into that fixer upper after you’re done with it.”

  “I don’t know what I’ll do, but I like my apartment.” I don’t say it aloud, but I like it even more now that I know Rose a little better. I had no idea she was so interesting.

  “Good. It’s hard to find good neighbors these days.” She sighs, and I know she’s got to be thinking about the couple down the hall. I’ve never seen anyone party as hearty as they do.

  “Don’t I know it.” I lean in to kiss her on the cheek. “Take care.” I’m about to walk out and then stop when I remember something. “What was it that you wanted from the grocery store?”

  “Oh, yes! I forgot. I need some butter.”

  “Do you want some now? I have a stick or two in my fridge.”

  “No, no, that’s all right. It’s not urgent. And if you don’t make it to the store, don’t worry. I can wait for my toast until tomorrow when my regular delivery comes.”

  I wiggle my fingers in a wave as I leave, and while I walk down the hall, I punch out the phone number of Mr. Dicky Dickerson on my cell. Maybe having a realtor helping me out wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

  Chapter Three

  DICKY DICKERSON WAS TOO BUSY to meet with me today, but that’s not going to stop me. I’m cruising through some of my favorite neighborhoods in Brooklyn, searching for signs. Specifically, For Sale signs, but I’d even take a cosmic sign at this point. This feels right. I’m doing what I should be doing, I can sense it in my bones.

  My cell rings, but I don’t recognize the number. Thinking it might be Dicky, I use my professional voice. “Hello, this is Jana Oliver.”

  The person who responds is goofing around, pretending to be formal. “Well, hello, Ms. Jana Oliver. And how might you be this afternoon?” When he laughs, I realize who it is, and my emotions instantly go cold.

  “I’m fine. What do you want, Robinson?” I sigh out heavily, hoping he’ll take the hint that I’m not in the mood to chat.

  “Whoa. Cold reception. Okay. I’m going to assume it’s not because of something I’ve done, though, and…”

  I cut him off. “Oh yeah? And why would you do that, I wonder?”

  There’s no response for long enough that I start to think we got cut off. But then there’s a long sigh and his voice has lost all its cheerfulness. “So you are blaming me for everything.”

  If I could throw my phone out the window and not regret its loss, I totally would right now. As it is, I’m about to crack it in half with how hard I’m gripping it.

  “Now why would I do that?” I say, pretending to be super duper happy as I sit at a stoplight. “You’re not the guy who made me the legal parent of my niece, encouraged me to bond with her as her mother, and then as soon as my brother stopped doing drugs for a single day, undid all the legal ties between her and me and forced me to give her up!” I pause. “Oh, wait…! I’m wrong! That was you, Robinson!” I’m screaming now, but I don’t care. People in the neighboring cars can stare all they want.

  He sounds like a lawyer when he speaks this time. “You know very well that’s not how things went down.”

  “Oh really?” A car honks behind me, telling me to obey the green light. I flip him off out my rear window before I press on the gas. “Really? Because that’s exactly how I remember it. You did that, Robinson. You took her away from me.”

  “You know, I saw you at the wedding, and you seemed fine with everything.”

  “And because you know me sooo well, you’re the best person to judge whether I’m okay, right? Is t
hat it?”

  “Listen, Jana, do you want to talk? In person, I mean, not on the phone? You sound really angry.”

  All I can do is scream at that. I reach out and try to press the red button on my phone to close down the call, but it won’t work. I can still hear Robinson’s voice, but none of the words are computing. I just need to never listen to him again. Ever. I yank the power cord out of the bottom of the phone, roll down the window, and toss the cell out into the street where it bounces up and skitters onto the nearby sidewalk. I catch the shocked look of a girl as my phone lands at her feet.

  I’m so pissed, I feel like I can’t even trust myself not to drive my car into a wall. I continue down the road, using the steering wheel to shake my body forward and back, over and over, screaming in frustration the whole time.

  Great! Excellent! Now I have no phone and no baby! It’s all Robinson’s fault, too. Who’s that stupid? Who’s that clueless about life? I reach the next red light and slump back into my seat. Robinson, that’s who. He’s that clueless.

  Of course I’m furious with him. No woman on the face of the earth would take in a child, love her like her own, and then just hand her over with a smile and a ‘Good luck, I hope things work out for ya.’ I was devastated, I am devastated, and I will always be devastated. And if it hadn’t been for him, that snake in a lawyer’s suit, I’d still be driving around with a babyseat in my car and diapers stinking up my guestroom.

  The light changes to green and I pull away, but within two blocks I’m crying so hard I have to pull over onto a side street. It’s not until someone taps on my window that I realize I’m on the side of the road in a not-so-great area, and there’s a For Sale sign in the yard right next to me. I could throw my phone out the window and hit it easily, if I had a phone anymore.

  “You okay, Miss?” the man at my window asks me. He could be homeless, the way he’s dressed, or he could just be one of those wannabe beatnik cool guys who hangs around the streets of Brooklyn.

  I nod, wiping tear streaks from my face with the heels of my hands. “Yes, I’m fine,” I answer through the closed window. My hand moves to the ignition, but just before I turn the key, I realize my engine is already on. I’ve been sitting here for I don’t know how long idling, spewing carbon monoxide out into the atmosphere. I’m sure the people living on this street really appreciate that.

  “You sure? You look sad to me.” He frowns and points to his cheeks.

  “No, really, I’m fine.” I glance over at the house that’s for sale and then at him. “Do you live around here?”

  “You could say that.” He smiles, revealing teeth in sore need of dentistry.

  “Do you know what the story is with this place?” I jab my thumb over at the sign.

  He looks over my car at it, frowns, and then drops his gaze to me again. “Been for sale for a long time. Nobody livin’ in it. That’s all I know.”

  I grab a pen from my purse and a little notebook, writing down the name of the realtor I see on the sign and her phone number along with the street number for the house. I’ll get the street name when I drive out of here.

  Idiot me threw my phone out the window, so now I have to wait until I’m home again to call anyone. And that Dicky character will probably call me while my phone’s with that lucky stranger who I nearly nailed with it, so I guess I won’t be meeting anyone today to hunt for houses. I want to bang my head on my steering wheel in frustration. Can nothing go right for me?

  “You got any spare change?” the man asks, distracting me from my thoughts.

  “Sure,” I say distractedly, reaching into my wallet for some bills. “Here you go.” I slide them through a three-inch space I make rolling the window down. It’s too cold to let all the heat out.

  “Ten bucks, hey, thanks.” He gives me a genuine smile, which only makes me feel guilty. My heart lurches over the idea of ten bucks making my day. “Here,” I say, giving him the rest of what I have. “Take it.”

  He frowns as the wad of bills come through the crack. “You sure you’re okay?”

  I nod, facing out the front of the window. “I will be.”

  He takes the money and backs away from the car. “You have a nice day, Miss.”

  “You too,” I say, shifting the car into gear and pulling away from the curb. Time to go get a new phone and find a house to buy. I’m going to do this. This is going to happen. I can’t stay in my apartment anymore; it’s too depressing and I’m going crazy staring at its four walls. Rose is awesome, and I’ll visit her, but I can’t live there right now. Not with all those memories tied to it. Plus, I need a job to do, one that has me as the boss. I’m in no emotional state to be working retail again. Besides, how hard can being a general contractor be, anyway? My late sister-in-law did it, and she made it look really easy. I’m college-educated, smart, and talented in the design department. And it’s been said before: once I put my mind to something, I can make it happen. I glance at the rundown house with the sagging porch outside as I drive past it and smile. Watch out, World, here I come.

  Chapter Four

  THERE ARE THREE VOICEMAILS FROM Robinson, one from James, and eight from Leah on my new phone when I get it up and running the next day. I listen to Robinson’s on speakerphone as I get dressed in house hunting clothes. Today will be the day that I find a place to renovate. After a fitful night’s sleep and way too much time imagining all the things I could get accomplished, there’s no way it’s not going to work. I’ve got it all figured out.

  As soon as I hear the initial part of Robinson’s first message, I stride across the room to the counter where my new phone rests. “Hey, Jana, it’s me. Robinson. Listen, I really think you’ve got this all wrong…”

  Click. Delete. “Goodbye, Robinson, you jerk.” I smile in the mirror, but it doesn’t look happy. The next message comes on.

  “Are you ignoring me?”

  Click. Delete. “Gee, you think? Asshole.” I shake my head. He can’t possibly be that stupid.

  I wait for the next message. There’s some fumbling around and then his voice again. “If you’re ignoring me, tell me. Otherwise, I’m coming over. I’m worried about you.”

  My eyes bug out as I hear the time the message was sent. I look at my watch. An hour ago. Holy shit, I have to get out of here. I don’t want to see him; I’m likely to punch him right in the nose.

  The doorbell rings a half-second later. Not my intercom buzzer, but my actual door. How in the hell did he get inside? Stupid neighbors. Someone in this building needs a bitch-slap.

  “Goddammit!” I hiss. I jerk a brush through my hair, wincing as I accidentally yank some strands out in my anger. “Go away, jerk, I don’t want you here,” I say mostly to myself. I plan to ignore his knocking. He’ll go away eventually.

  I check my watch again as the doorbell rings. I’m supposed to meet this Dicky person at the home that I saw for sale yesterday in a half hour. Word on the realtor street is that it’s about to go into foreclosure and the owners are ready to deal. I just need Robinson to go away so I can get there on time.

  The doorbell rings a third time. “I know you’re home!” comes a voice through the door. “I saw your car downstairs!”

  I sneer at my reflection in the mirror. He’d better not force the issue. I destroyed a phone yesterday, I was so mad; there’s no telling what I’m capable of doing if I see him in person.

  “Come on, Jana, talk to me!”

  He’s going to make me late. I need to do something about this. I slam the brush down on the counter and stare at myself in the mirror. “You can do this. Cut him off. Make him go away. It’s over. You’re never going to be with him, so just forget it.”

  Okay, I’ll admit it. I’ve had a crush on Robinson since the first time I met him. Actually, since the first time I laid eyes on him, when I saw him in a photo with my brother. This is even more pitiful when you consider how old I was at the time: six. Yes. I was six years old when I fell in love with Robinson Arnold.


  It was Christmas break, my brother’s first semester of college, and he came home with mementoes of his new life. Robinson was his roommate and new best friend. I still remember the way that picture of him made my blood race in my veins, and I was just a little kid. A baby, practically. But something about this boy made me feel funny inside. He was my first crush.

  And when I finally met him in person after the next semester, it was ten times worse. I thought I was having a heart attack when he smiled at me. I was only a little girl, but there was something about this boy that was different from every other one I’d ever met. When I played with my Barbies, he was my Ken, when I playacted being Cinderella, he was my Prince Charming, and as I grew older, he became the man that every other guy was measured against.

  Over the years, I’ve gotten better at hiding my reactions — my brothers used to tease me that my face would light up like Times Square whenever his name was mentioned — but my feelings stayed strong, even more than two decades and several boyfriends later. But now it’s over. I’m done with loving him, with crushing on him, with dreaming about being with him. Not like it’s a big deal to anyone but me that this ridiculous wannabe love affair is over; he never saw me as anything but James’s little sister.

  I’m on the other side of the door when he bangs on it with his fist. “Jana, so help me, if you don’t open this door, I’m going to…”

  I flip the lock and throw the door open. “You’re going to what? Take my child away from me? Oh, wait. That’s right. You already did that.” I stand there with my arms folded across my chest, waiting for him to walk away.