Though you could see the house from the road, it still took a good three-minute drive to reach it. Another quarter mile up a dirt path was the site for the new construction that had started to go up as soon as the ground thawed enough to allow a foundation to be dug. Now, the framing and outside of the house were up. It was clearly going to be monstrous and the fanciest house within a ten-mile radius. Maybe she’d try to get Randy signed on with Broadlands Roofing. That roof would bring in enough to pay for the security cameras, the girls’ recital dresses, and a whole new set of tires, heck, a whole new truck.
The house was covered in workers, like ants crawling on a dropped hot dog. She checked off in the distance to see if she recognized any of the men, their forms in dusty jackets and well-worn jeans. Sure, Broadlands was just some little town, but with cheap land and plenty of undocumented laborers in the area, it was also a great place to build whatever it was that Randy was building.
The structure was too far away for Amelia to make out any faces or really any identifiable characteristics. Amelia navigated her ten-year-old four-door SUV into the empty spot next to what had to be Randy’s BMW. She had to hold back rolling her eyes. The house, the car, the clothes—what must it be like to be able to spend money like it was nothing?
But even if he imported a twenty-four-karat-gold replica of Michelangelo’s David with a fountain arching out of it and plopped it down in his front yard, who was she to judge? He seemed nice enough last time they’d met, and it was only a silent assumption that he put so much value on the material things in life. Maybe he was a trust-fund baby, and driving a BMW instead of a Lamborghini was already a state of humility.
But it wasn’t the car or clothes that confused Amelia. Now that she had met Randy and little Dawson, she wondered what in the world could entice him to build such a huge house for just the two of them. Amelia slammed her car door and headed around the back of the car to Kate’s side. She was checking the top of her hair with expert fingers. Dozens of little rebellious hairs stood out around her ponytail holders, but no way Amelia would let on to the fact or even give her daughter a chance to check the mirror again.
“Kate, it looks great. Come on, we gotta get in. We’re already a little late.”
“That’s ’cause you took forever talking to Uncle Caleb.” She sighed, pushing the orange button on her lap belt and hopping down to the floor of the SUV. Sometimes her girls talked like small adults and left Amelia speechless.
“Sorry, Kate. Dawson will understand. Come on, jump into my arms!” She put out her arms, and Kate took a big leap. Amelia caught her in her arms, the warmth of her little body taking the chill off the bare skin of her wrists. She placed the wiggly six-year-old down on the gravel driveway and grabbed the bags from the passenger seat.
The smell of sawdust and paint hung in the air. It wasn’t just the big house at the end of the drive that was getting work done, but the Slattery house was also under construction. It had started to transform back into the dreamland she’d created inside her head as a child.
The algae of the past few years was gone, and a new coat of paint made the house glisten white and clean in the spring sunshine. And the shutters were not yellow, not black, not even green, but a deep, rich purple that picked up the subtle hues of the climbing lilac vine trailing across the front of the porch just starting its spring bloom. The delicate scent of lilacs only added to the dream quality of the porch, the main floor planks stained a dark brown with white highlights on the stairs and railings. When the front screen door squeaked and banged, it was like Amelia had been transported into one of her daydreams. A hanging swing, maybe a wicker chair or two, and she might curl up and never want to leave.
Dawson bolted out of the front door, his eyes alive with pent-up excitement from what had probably been a morning of unbearable anticipation. His hair stood up all over, and his blue eyes danced in a way that made Amelia burst out laughing. Before she knew it, Kate was wrapped up in an awkward and aggressive embrace. Her arms hung by her side like she wasn’t sure what to do with them.
“Hey, Dawson.” Kate’s words were nearly absorbed by the fabric of Dawson’s Gap polo. He looked like a kid model from one of those all black-and-white photo spreads at the mall. Amelia could tell her daughter was starting to get a little claustrophobic with all the attention, her dark eyes glancing up pleadingly.
“Where’s my hug, Dawson? Don’t want me to feel left out, do you?”
The little boy let Kate go and leaped across the hardwood of the porch to Amelia’s open arms. He landed against her so hard that she let out an “Oof,” nearly knocking out all the air in her lungs. His thin arms squeezed around her neck with such strength that it felt like he wasn’t just holding on to her but trying to make something come back.
Recovering from the unanticipated impact, she wrapped her arms around the boy’s torso and pulled him in for a real hug—a mom hug. He smelled of pancake syrup and hair gel; she wasn’t sure which was responsible for his wild hairdo. Maybe a little of both.
“Hey, buddy, good to see you again.” She patted his back through the soft fabric of his shirt, but he didn’t let go. “Hey, is your daddy here? Why don’t you go find him?” Amelia asked softly in his ear, like she was telling a bedtime story.
Dawson nuzzled one of his cheeks against Amelia’s and then backed away. She immediately grabbed his hands in hers to discourage any more “aggressive hugging” when another squeak-bang made her look up.
Randy, wearing a pair of jeans and a formfitting blue tee shirt, had his hands in his pockets. As he approached, he flinched back against the slight chill in the air. His hair was wet, and there were a few dark spots on his shirt that made her think he must’ve just gotten out of the shower. As he got closer, a warm cloud of shower smells, soap, shampoo, and maybe a dash of cologne or at least freshly applied deodorant followed him.
“I see Dawson found you.” Randy’s smile was broader and whiter than Amelia had remembered, though today he seemed nervous.
“Uh, yeah, did he ever!” Amelia let go of Dawson’s hands and stood quickly before he got any more hugging ideas. Her shirt was a bit askew, showing her bra strap on one side, and her sweater was nearly hanging off her arm at the elbow. She readjusted her top until she was covered again and hopefully looked polished enough for the overly polished Randy, though a little voice in her head kept asking why she even cared what this stranger thought of her.
“Oh, sorry, did he hug you, honey?” Dawson had taken Kate’s hand, and she stared at him as though he’d put a bug on it.
“A little, but he about squeezed Mommy to death,” she said, yanking her hand away. “So, do you have any toys?” Kate asked as though she were starting to feel like this playdate was a trap and soon she was going to be forced to eat her veggies and go to bed early.