asked, still not picking up on the tension. “Will she mind having us in the way?”
AJ’s eyes darted in Sam’s direction, but he looked away before his gaze met hers.
Coward, she thought. Two-timing bastard.
“My … ah … she doesn’t live here. I have a nanny who takes care of … us. And the house. She’s outside right now with … ah … you’ll meet her later.”
Claire, who never missed a trick, had been studying Sam’s reaction to all this new information. Now, to Sam’s relief, she took control of the conversation and redirected it back to their reason for being here. “I didn’t realize you had a family. We’ll do our best to keep the disruption to a minimum.”
“Please, I don’t want you to worry about that. I work at home but I’ll … we’ll stay out of your way.”
The questions kept tumbling through Sam’s mind. Had his wife left him? No surprise there, but to leave her child behind? How could she? Then again, based on her experience with the Harris family, she might not have had any say in the matter. AJ working at home was a surprise, though. He was in line to take over the business when his father retired. Could he run such a huge company from home?
Sam realized she was still staring at him while he continued to avoid looking at her. He’d never worn a ring, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t married when they were dating. Who are you kidding? They had never gone on a date. All they did was sleep together. After his father’s ultimatum, she had assumed AJ kept their affair a secret because, like his father, he’d thought she was good enough to sleep with a Harris but not good enough to be a Harris. Now it seemed he wasn’t just arrogant, he was married. Ringless, but married.
“Sam?” Claire’s voice gently interrupted her nightmarish journey through the past. “What are your thoughts about the kitchen?”
They could throw a stick of dynamite in it for all she cared. “We should paint the cabinets, for sure. Replace the counter and flooring, and bring in another new light fixture.” She should take a closer look at the sink and faucet, but she would have to cross the kitchen to do that. Then she’d be standing by the window and … and she couldn’t look out there. Not yet. She needed time to adjust to the reality that AJ had a son … and she didn’t.
Three years ago she’d given away a part of herself when she’d put her son up for adoption. She hadn’t even had the luxury of mourning her loss. She’d had to get back to work because she had to put food on the table, pay rent and her mother’s medical bills. She had coped with her loss the same way she coped with everything else in her life—by carrying on with her responsibilities and not letting herself think about how much her life sucked.
But this … finding out that he’d been able to keep his son while she’d had to give up hers … this felt like more than she could handle. Oh, God. Now she was having trouble breathing again. She glanced over her shoulder toward the front of the house. Maybe she should make an excuse to leave. She could tell Kristi and Claire that she had to get home to her mother, that they could continue with the site visit and fill her in tomorrow.
AJ spoke first. “I have work to do so unless you need me for anything, I’ll let the three of you get to it.”
Claire, the consummate professional, was quick to respond. “Of course. Please don’t let us keep you. This should only take an hour, maybe less. We can let ourselves out and I’ll call you tomorrow, after we’ve worked out our expenses and a timeline for getting everything done.”
He responded with a nod and a vague smile and left the kitchen. Sam could tell he was deliberately ignoring her. She wanted to throw her tape measure at him.
She had good aim and she could easily hit him squarely in the back of the head. Seconds later the slam of an outside door was followed by the sound of his footsteps on stairs. Whatever work he had to do, it was in the backyard. With his son.
Claire faced Sam, one hand clutching her iPad, the other on her hip. “What on earth was that all about?”
Tears tickled Sam’s eyelids. You will not cry, she told herself. Not here. He’s not worth it. “What do you mean?” she asked, trying to feign surprise, knowing she failed miserably. Trust Claire to figure this out.
“Don’t give me that. It’s totally obvious you and the man in black have a past, and it clearly didn’t end well.”
That was the understatement of the century. Sam shook her head. “I can’t talk about it here. I’ll fill you in later.”
Claire hugged her. “Sorry, hon. I had no idea.”
Kristi made it a group hug. “Will you be able to handle this?”
Sam momentarily indulged in her friends’ affection, then pulled away and put on a brave face. “I’ll be fine. And there’s no way you could have known. If I paid more attention to who our clients are, I wouldn’t have been blindsided.”
Claire wasn’t letting go that easily. “We’re almost into December and the pre-Christmas season is always slow. This is a big job and we can really use the business right now, but if—”
Sam took a deep breath and a step back. “No ‘buts.’ We’re taking this job. I’ll be fine. It’s just … I didn’t expect this to be his house and seeing him caught me off guard, but I’ll be fine.” She had to be. The company might need the work, but she needed the income even more. “Can we finish up and get out of here?”
“Of course. Let’s check out the rest of the main floor,” Claire said. “There’s a big living room, plus the dining room and a small den. Then we can do the upstairs.”
Sam’s heart started to race again. The bedrooms would be upstairs. AJ’s bedroom. Had he and his wife lived here? Had he and his son moved in after they split up? It didn’t matter. He lived here now, and his bedroom had better not need any work. There could be a gaping hole in the ceiling, and it would stay that way because it would be a frosty day in hell before she would set a foot in AJ’s bedroom.
Half an hour later Sam stood with Claire and Kristi in the upstairs hallway, staring into the bathroom. It had been renovated in the fifties, complete with pink lino on the floor and pink and black ceramic tiles on the walls.
Kristi laughed. “This is one of the tackiest bathrooms I’ve ever seen. What were they thinking? Thank goodness the fixtures are white. That’ll keep the cost down if we decide to renovate.”
Sam thought about the bathroom in the apartment she shared with her mother. It had crumbling grout and no personality, but, oddly enough, she liked this one. Her mother would, too.
Claire stepped into the room. “I’m not sure we should. Bathroom renos are time-consuming and expensive. Leaving this as is would mean more money in the client’s pocket, and this retro look is surprisingly popular.” She picked up a pink crocheted doll covering a roll of toilet paper. “But, oh, my goodness, I’ve never seen a house with so much stuff in it. Bad enough there’s a ton of these kinds of things.” She set the doll down and picked up a matching tissue-box holder. “And seriously, how many doilies does one person need?”
Kristi laughed. “I counted eighty-seven on the main floor before I lost track. On the plus side, if the client is interested in getting rid of the vintage linens, most will fetch a few dollars apiece.”
