writing in the dog’s medical chart. “Maybe you worked at that detective job of yours too long.”
Okay, so maybe he was just a tad cynical. Burned out. He’d been through hell in more ways than one back in Detroit, and he wouldn’t even be in this town if that weren’t the case.
Beth Lindstrom might be the most honest person on the planet, but she’d seemed oddly edgy, and Walt was far too trusting. That recent asphalt scam wasn’t the only time he’d been taken in the last couple years. With just one crafty, light-fingered employee, everything he’d ever worked for could go up in smoke.
Joel was going to make sure that didn’t happen.
CHAPTER THREE
AFTER SPENDING the day with a calculator, a legal pad and two local contractors, Beth felt too overwhelmed to even think straight.
The house had termites, black mold starting in the café storeroom, and a cracked foundation, for starters—nothing unusual in this part of Texas—but together they represented more money than she’d been able to salvage from selling her heavily mortgaged home in Illinois.
And that didn’t begin to touch the cosmetic projects that would enhance the café’s curb appeal for future buyers.
Once the walls were patched, the house would have to be painted, inside and out. The deeply scarred oak floors needed stripping. Several windows and doors had to be replaced, and if the stains on the upstairs bedroom ceilings were any clue, the roof had serious problems, too.
And the plumbing—she closed her eyes, trying not to remember the plumber’s look of shock that soon brightened to an avaricious gleam as he’d studied the antiquated pipes. A new water softener and iron filter alone would be over five hundred.
Her sister, Melanie, on yet another marriage and perpetually broke, had given Crystal’s property little thought since they’d received the inheritance five years ago. Beth had been equally guilty, caught up in her own world, and they’d let a careless Realtor manage both the upkeep and the rentals. No wonder the house had attracted just low-end types.
After Beth recouped her expenses, she and her sister planned to split the remaining profits. Beth had hoped her share would provide a significant down payment on a decent place to live in Billings, but that dream had faded with the last contractor. The cost of bringing this place up to code for a buyer’s mortgage inspection would probably approach or even exceed its market value.
She could do a lot of cosmetic work herself, but it still would have to be sold as a fixer-upper for a ridiculously low figure. Maybe Joel had been right about bulldozing the place and simply giving up. Unless…
Her heart picked up a faster beat as she took another hard look at the main floor, then walked into the kitchen, where she found Darwin on top of the old refrigerator, a foreleg, rear leg and his tail dangling down the front surface. He gave her a bored look and went back to sleep.
She studied the possibilities in the kitchen. Her excitement rose. Then dissolved.
Walt had mentioned opening the café again, and he’d said there wasn’t any competition for thirty or forty miles in any direction. Reopening the café would create income, and would increase its value to prospective buyers. But to open, she’d have to meet an entirely different set of codes, and that would take money she didn’t have, either.
“When can we go see the puppies?”
Sophie had been asking all day. “I don’t think…” Beth looked at the clock, wanting nothing more than to cancel that dinner invitation. But one glance at her child’s hopeful expression and she just couldn’t do it.
After seeing her entire life tipped upside down, Sophie had still taken everything in stride—leaving her pretty pink bedroom, the kids next door, the only house she’d ever known. And this was really such a small thing. What was the harm?
She managed a weary smile. “Guess we’d better get dressed and get over there. Can’t keep those pups waiting, right?”
AFTER A LONG, hot shower, Beth gave Sophie a bath and then lingered over her own closet, uncertain over what to wear. Until now there’d been no question—her worst jeans and shirts, because she’d been endlessly cleaning and scrubbing, and today, she’d started clearing out some of the rubbish in the yard.
But for an evening? Sophie immediately chose her favorite purple Dora dress, but most of Beth’s wardrobe was in storage back home. She finally grabbed cream slacks and a peach knit top, added gold hoops and a bracelet, then twisted her hair up in a loose bun.
Walt’s friendly greeting and his housekeeper’s welcoming smile made her thankful that she’d taken those few extra minutes to look nice. “You have a lovely home,” she murmured.
And it was. Most of the houses in town were single story with wood siding, and nearly all of them had deep, open porches to shade against the blistering Texas sun.
Walt’s home was a two-story brick, spacious and inviting, but with no pretensions of grandeur. Every bit of woodwork and furniture glowed softly from Maria’s loving care, and a mouthwatering aroma of some sort of Mexican entrée filled the air.
“Are the puppies here?” Sophie said eagerly. She tugged on Beth’s hand. “Can I see them?”
Walt laughed. “You bet. They can’t wait to see you, either.” He led the way through the living and dining rooms, then down a hallway leading to the kitchen and back door.
When he ushered them through the door to the screened porch, a litter of yellow-and-black lab pups tumbled out of their blanket-lined box.
Their mother, a gleaming black lab, lifted her head to check out the newcomers, then flopped back down, clearly exhausted by her rambunctious family.
Sophie squealed with delight when the pups swarmed around her, licking her fingers and crying to be picked up.
“The screen door is locked and ole Shadow is a good watchdog,” Walt said. “So your daughter should be okay, if you’d like to come inside for a drink?”
“Just tea or lemonade, if you’ve got it.” She inclined her head toward Sophie. “I think I’d better stay close by in case she gets overwhelmed.”
Walt called out to Maria, and she returned a few moments later with a tray of lemonade, tortilla chips and homemade salsa that she set on a glass-topped wicker table.
“Dinner will be in ten minutes.” She shot a questioning look at Walt. “Okay?”
Walt glanced at his watch. “Perfect timing.” He settled into one of the four white wicker chairs at the table and waved Beth toward the one across from him.
The chairs sported bright cushions that echoed the massive pots of red geraniums on the porch steps. Graceful ferns hung from the porch ceiling, and at one end, a long, low table was filled with colorful Mexican pottery bearing a variety of plants.
“This is so pretty. I hadn’t realized just how nice it would be to get away for an evening,” Beth said. “And Sophie is thrilled, as you can see.”
The puppies scrambled over each other, whining and vying for attention
