The House that Love Built

Twenty




Thursday night at Mexico Lindo Brooke felt warmth flow through her as she watched Owen joking around and playing with her children—even though twice she’d had to tell them all to settle down. Something was happening between her and Owen despite their vow to remain only friends. Even Spencer was having a good time. But Brooke knew her son, and she could tell that he still had his guard up, often glancing back and forth between Brooke and Owen with questioning eyes.

“There is something I’ve been meaning to ask you since I first moved here.” Owen wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Why is that huge gingerbread man on display by the Chamber of Commerce office?”

“That’s Smitty!” Meghan licked vanilla ice cream from her lips.

Brooke picked up Meghan’s napkin and wiped ice cream from her daughter’s face as she spoke. “Back in 2006, the town decided to do something special for our annual Festival of Lights celebration, so we baked this gigantic gingerbread man. We even got into the 2009 Guinness Book of World Records for it. Then the cookie sheet used to bake it was converted into a monument to commemorate the record.” She put the napkin down and took a sip of her coffee. “An IKEA store in Norway broke our world record, but we’re pretty sure we still hold the American record.”

“Good grief.” Owen laughed. “Bet that took some serious flour.”

“He weighed more than thirteen hundred pounds and measured twenty feet from head to toe. We used seven hundred and fifty pounds of flour, forty-nine gallons of molasses, and seventy-two dozen eggs.” She pointed a finger at him. “Separated eggs!”

Owen chuckled again. “That’s pretty cool. I would have liked to have seen that.”

“There’s a video. I’ll show it to you sometime.” Brooke took a sip of her coffee. “So, your uncle will be here tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah. I had bedroom furniture delivered for the upstairs bedroom that needs the fewest repairs. And I bought a couch. But the place is still a wreck, especially since Hunter and I just ripped out all the cabinets.” He paused, taking a sip of coffee. “Thanks for having Big Daddy deliver the new ones.”

“You’re welcome. We do that for all our customers.” Brooke grinned, wishing this night could go on forever. She wondered if she would see a lot less of Owen now that his uncle would be living with him.

Owen threatened to steal a bite of Meghan’s ice cream, and they were all laughing and cutting up again when Brooke stopped breathing.

“Oh no.” She brought a hand to her chest. Before she could tell Owen what was happening, both Meghan and Spencer jumped up and hurried to the entrance of the restaurant.

Owen twisted in his chair to watch the children. “What is it? Do you know those people?”

“It’s my mother.” She took a deep breath as she watched Mom hugging Meghan and Spencer. “And my father.” She pulled her eyes away. “Oh, Owen. They’re coming over here. What am I going to do?”

Owen stood up when Brooke’s parents came to the table. He extended his hand to Brooke’s mother. “Hello. I’m Owen Saunders.”

Mom’s eyes lit up as she smiled. “Nice to meet you, Owen. I’m Patsy Miller. And this is Brooke’s father, Harold.”

Brooke cringed as her father and Owen shook hands.

“You’re my grandpa?” Meghan’s eyes grew huge.

Brooke almost felt sorry for her father as he nodded, his face beet-red. But she couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge him. Her mother’s eyes begged her to say something, but she couldn’t do it. She just looked down at her coffee.

“Well then, I guess our table’s ready,” Mom finally said, throwing Brooke a pointed glance. “Owen, it’s wonderful to meet you. And I’ll see you children soon, I promise. I miss you.” Then she and Brooke’s dad made their way to a table across the room.

Brooke forced a smile. “Everyone ready to go?” Owen found her hand and squeezed, and the sweet gesture brought tears to her eyes. Things were so messed up. And was there really a happily ever after? She glanced at her parents and their bizarre situation, then she looked up at Owen, this handsome, caring man who’d recently said he was still in love with his wife and would never trust another woman. She gazed at him as he asked for the bill.

Owen quickly threw down cash, then ushered them all to the car. When they got to Brooke’s house, he asked, “Do you want me to come in?”

“Yes, yes!” Meghan shouted from the backseat. “Come in, Mr. Saunders.”

Brooke waited for Spencer to say something, but he didn’t.

Owen leaned over and into the backseat. “I think it’s time for you guys to call me Owen.” He glanced at Brooke. “If that’s okay with your mom.”

“How about Mr. Owen?” Brooke suggested. She chewed on her lip, wanting him to come in, but wondering if the kids were going to have a lot of questions about their grandparents. Plus, she had a knot in her throat as if she might cry at any moment. There was something very vulnerable about her father that she hadn’t expected. Dark circles lined his eyes, and he was more bent over than she remembered. Despite the anger and hurt, she wondered if maybe she should talk to him.

It was still daylight, and Meghan and Spencer exited the car and ran to the porch. “It’s fine with me if you want to come in for a while.”

Owen wasted no time turning off the car. “Great. I don’t relish the idea of going home to that big empty house.”

Once in the house, they went through the same familiar drill as always. Meghan and Spencer argued about going to bed but finally succumbed. Meghan kissed Owen good night again, and this time Owen responded with a warm hug before she ran upstairs. Brooke fielded a few questions about her dad during tuck-in time but was able to get away with a promise to talk more later. Finally she made it downstairs, feeling she had dodged a bullet. For now. But she still had no earthly idea how she would handle the fact that Meghan and Spencer now knew their grandfather was in town.

She sank down on the couch in relief and unbuckled her sandals, tossing them to the side. “Feel free to do the same,” she said, nodding to Owen’s loafers.

“I love this couch.” He kicked off his shoes and frowned. “I don’t like the couch I bought. It’s too . . . stiff or something.” He leaned back and put an arm around her. “This is possibly the most comfortable couch on the planet.”

Brooke laughed. “I bought it on sale at Milton’s probably ten years ago. It’s just worn in.”

“Good to hear you laugh. I could see how upset you were earlier.” Owen stroked her shoulder—just as if they were a couple.

“That was the last thing I was expecting, for them to walk in. Though I guess I should have—” Then she couldn’t stand it anymore. She twisted to face him. “Owen, what are we doing?”

He smiled. “I knew this was coming.”

“This cuddling, the—the kisses.” She paused. “I thought we both agreed to be friends, but . . .”

He touched her cheek. “I have no idea what we’re doing. But I do know I’m happiest these days when I’m with you. And when I’m not, I—I miss you. So I’m choosing to be with you.” He kissed her lightly on the mouth, and Brooke gave in. She ignored the urge to overanalyze and allowed herself this chance to just feel happy in the moment.

He brushed his lips against the top of her nose, cupped her face in his hands, and pressed his mouth to hers again, transporting Brooke to a place she’d forgotten existed. Owen pulled her closer, and Brooke felt like a teenager making out on her parents’ couch. But this was her couch, and she had two impressionable children upstairs. She pulled back.

“Sorry.” He settled back onto the couch and reached for her hand. “I think I could keep kissing you forever.” He kissed her palm. “I hear what you’re saying. We should probably talk about whatever is going on.” He took a deep breath. “But we’ve both been duly warned. You’re not ready for a relationship. I have trust issues.” He flashed a quick grin, then sobered. “But maybe we can just go with it, tread carefully, and see what happens. I love being here.”

Brooke nodded. She loved having him here. But she couldn’t help but wonder if they each just filled a void for each other, if that’s all it was between them. And did Owen just like being in her home because his was big and lonely? But she did take note that while he mentioned the trust issues, he didn’t say anything about still being in love with his ex-wife.

“I think that sounds good.” Brooke smiled, and Owen put his arm around her again. She laid her head on his shoulder. Could this be my second shot at happiness?



Friday morning Owen and Hunter were installing the new cabinets in the kitchen when there was a knock at the door.

“That would be my uncle.” Owen shoved the cabinet a few inches to the left, then wiped his hands on his overalls. He walked down the hallway, through the living room, and to the entryway. He was eager to see Uncle Denny. But when he swung the door wide, Tallie Goodry stood in front of him with a basket in her hands.

“Tallie.” Owen raised an eyebrow. “Hi.”

“These are for you.” She pushed the basket toward him, smiling. Her streaked platinum hair was pulled up into a twist, and her low-cut white blouse and denim capris showed off a tanned, toned body. In her white spike-heel sandals, she was almost as tall as Owen. “I heard that you hired Hunter Lewis to work for you, and I think that’s so nice of you. I wanted to bring you boys a little snack.”

Owen accepted the gift. “Thanks. Hunter’s a good worker.” He lifted a red-checkered napkin and inspected the contents.

Tallie took a step closer to him, close enough that he breathed in her musky perfume. It reminded him of Virginia. A lot of things about Tallie reminded him of Virginia, which made him wonder again whatever attracted him to his ex-wife in the first place. Had she changed over the years—or had he?

Tallie pointed to the basket. “Homemade kolaches, muffins, and chocolate-chip cookies.”

That was one thing that Virginia didn’t do. Bake. Owen eyed the offering. “Thanks again. I know we’ll enjoy this.” He smiled, hoping he wouldn’t have to invite her in. “I’ll go share these with Hunter.”

“Oh, one more thing.” She held up a finger. “A week from tomorrow I’m having a little get-together for some friends at my home. Very casual, just friends from around Smithville. I’d love for you to come. It would be a great chance to meet everyone.”

Everyone? Did that mean Brooke too? Probably. She and Tallie were friends, weren’t they?

Owen thought for a moment. “I better decline, Tallie. My uncle is due here any minute, and he’ll be staying with me for a while.”

She waved a hand at him. “Bring your uncle, of course! He can meet everyone too. Cocktails and appetizers at seven, then dinner around eight. Can I count on you both?” She batted long lashes, and Owen hesitated. He wasn’t big on parties, especially with Tallie types. But Brooke would be there, so it might be fun.

“Sure. We’ll be there. A week from tomorrow.” Owen slid one foot backward. “Thank you again, Tallie. And we’ll see you next weekend.”

She flashed a blinding set of teeth at him and turned to leave, waving back over her shoulder.

Owen plucked a cream-cheese-filled kolache from the basket and took a big bite. Excellent. “Hunter, look what I’ve got,” he said as he made his way back to the kitchen. He set the basket on the only kitchen counter they had installed so far. “Kolaches, muffins, and cookies.”

Hunter peeked inside and chose a blueberry muffin. “Cool. Who brought this?”

“Tallie Goodry.” Owen reached for a cookie. “She said they’re all homemade.”

“They’re homemade, all right—homemade by Weikel’s Bakery in La Grange. I’d know these muffins and kolaches anywhere.” Hunter frowned. “Tallie Goodry is a—” He stopped, pressed his lips together, then sighed. “She don’t like me at all, and I never did nothing to her.”

“Well, she seemed glad you were working here. She didn’t say anything bad.” Owen scooped out another cookie. “So she didn’t make all this? She sort of implied that she did.”

“No, this is Weikel’s stuff. And they make the best.” Hunter picked up a kolache. “You better watch that Tallie. I reckon she’s on the prowl for a man, and I feel real sorry for whoever ends up with her.”

“Little harsh, don’t you think?” Owen grinned, but had to admit that he shared the boy’s sentiments somewhat, just from the little he knew about the woman.

Hunter shrugged. “Maybe.” He brushed crumbs from his mouth. “I figured Brooke Holloway was your girlfriend anyway.”

Owen thought for a moment. “I don’t know that she’s my girlfriend, but I guess she’s become more than just a friend.” He shook his head. “Never mind. I guess she’s my girlfriend.” He sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe not.”

Hunter laughed. “Wow, man, she’s got your head all confused, don’t she?”

“I guess so.” Owen smiled, thinking that wasn’t such a bad thing. A month ago he wouldn’t have thought that possible.

Hunter had demolished the kolache and was reaching for a cookie. “I got this girl, Jenny, that I been talking to sometimes on the Internet.” He blushed. “We’re gonna get together soon, I think. In person, I mean.”

“Cool.” Owen grabbed two bottles of water from his small refrigerator and handed one to Hunter. “What’s she like?”

“She’s real pretty. Blond hair. And she knows I have this real good job.” Hunter smiled, something he didn’t do often.

“A fresh start can be a good thing.” Owen heard himself speak the words and realized that there might be some truth in them for himself.

Owen put a half-eaten muffin back in the basket when he heard a loud pounding on the door. “That’s bound to be my uncle.”

He moved quickly to the front door and opened it. Uncle Denny was exactly as Owen remembered him, only grayer. His grizzled hair hung almost to his shoulders in a wild nest of waves. Bushy gray eyebrows arched high on his forehead, and his mouth naturally crooked up on one side, whether he was smiling or not. He wore a dark-brown shirt, and his khaki pants hung low beneath a protruding belly.

“Owen!” Uncle Denny threw his arms around Owen and squeezed. He smelled like cigars and garlic.

“Good to see you, Uncle Denny.” Owen eased out of the hug and reached for the red suitcase on the porch beside his uncle. “Is this all you have?”

“It’s all I need.” Uncle Denny’s left eye twitched as he spoke, a condition he’d had for as long as Owen could remember.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” Owen stepped aside so his uncle could come in. “Like I told you when you called, I recently bought this place, so it’s a mess.”

“I’m sure it is quite luxurious compared to my most recent accommodations.”

Hunter met them in the entryway. “Uncle Denny, this is Hunter Lewis. He works for me during the week.” Owen nodded to Hunter. “And, Hunter, meet Uncle Denny.”

Denny and Hunter shook hands, then Owen asked, “So where have you been this time?”

“Motuo County in the Nyingchi area of southeastern Tibet.” Uncle Denny rocked back on his heels and closed his eyes, a blissful expression settling on his face. “Unbelievable slice of heaven, I tell you.”

Owen turned to Hunter. “Uncle Denny is fulfilling his bucket list, which is to visit the ten most remote places in the world.”

Hunter smiled. “Really? That’s cool.”

Uncle Denny chuckled. “It’s cool, all right, but it takes more out of me these days than it used to. Not as young as I once was, you know. So now I’ve got to rest and work on my memoirs before I head to Peru.”

“When are you gonna go there?” Hunter asked.

“Whenever I feel like it!” Uncle Denny laughed and slapped Hunter on the back so hard that it jarred him from his stance. “Where’s my room, Owen? I think I may need to sleep for a couple of days.”

Owen motioned for his uncle to follow him to the stairs. “What’s in here?” he said, hefting the heavy suitcase. “Bricks?”

“Maybe one or two.”

Owen was sure the bag must weigh seventy pounds, but he managed to get it up the stairs. Once he had his uncle settled, he walked downstairs smiling. He’d always enjoyed his Uncle Denny, and it would be nice to have a housemate for a while—especially someone as interesting as Uncle Denny. Owen looked forward to reading those memoirs someday. Uncle Denny wouldn’t show them to anyone yet.

When he got back to the kitchen, Hunter was positioning another portion of the kitchen counter. He stopped and wiped sweat from his brow. “That uncle of yours must be loaded to go to all them foreign places.”

Owen grinned. “After my aunt died, Uncle Denny sold everything they owned—house, furniture, boat, and everything else they’d acquired over forty years of marriage—and used that to finance his travels. My dad said he’d always hoarded money away too, and they’d never had any children.” Owen paused, remembering his uncle as a younger man—a bit thinner and without all the gray hair, but just as jolly and boisterous. “Anyway, he announced to the family about a year after my aunt died that he had this bucket list—you know, a list of things he wanted to do before he kicked the bucket. I think he’s already gone to five of the ten places he wanted to visit. The way he does it is to travel for a while, then come back to the US and rest for a while, then take off again. This time he asked to stay with me since he knew I’d just gotten divorced.” Owen paused. “He and my ex-wife didn’t get along too well.”

“The guy’s funny.” Hunter’s toothy full smile made him look even younger than he usually did.

Owen covered his grin with his hand as he rubbed his chin. “Yeah. You could say that.”

Hunter picked up a hammer and gently tapped the section of counter into place as if he’d been installing cabinets his entire life. “Bet there won’t be no dull moments with him around.”

Owen’s grin broadened. I’m sure there won’t be.