Page 50 of The Fixer

She closed and locked the door, feeling an overwhelming need to take a shower. Instead, she turned her attention to the defensive chord twanging deep in her chest for Charlie Hunnicutt, the man who thought it was sacrilege not to turn this broken-down building into a gleaming grande dame—yes, the man who was advocating to save the very thing she needed to destroy in order to bury her painful memories.

Though her inner self advised she slow down and re-analyze her options from every angle, that voice was puny—because it was being shouted down by outrage. Joy’s impulse control checked out and went on hiatus. With it in her rearview mirror, she picked up her phone and swiped a number. Her call was answered on the first ring.

“Past Perfect Restorations.”

“Hi, Charlie. This is Joy Holiday. I’d like to know if your offer to partner on this project still stands.”

Charlie sat behind thewheel of his parked truck, staring at his phone for a beat before putting it back to his ear. “Yeah, definitely. When do you want to meet?”

“Now works.” Joy’s voice was neutral without a hint of a bite, and try though he might, he couldn’t detect any deceit either. “Give me fifteen. Do I need to bring food?” Christ, that woman could eat! Where the fuck she put it all, he had no idea.

She laughed, and the sound was surprisingly … warm. “No, thanks. Your brother already took care of that.” She explained how Hailey had been helping her and how Noah had brought them lunch. “Best stew I’ve had in a long time, and that’s saying something when you consider where I live.”

“Dewey’s Irish stewisthe best. I’m sorry I missed it, but I’m glad you got to try it. What about coffee? Are you set in that department?”

“For now, though I really need to invest in a coffeemaker. Does Amazon Prime deliver here?”

“Of course,” he scoffed. “It might not always be a two-day window, but it’s usually close. If you want something sooner, there’s a Walmart Supercenter in Montrose. It’s about a three-hour round trip.”

She gave him a noncommittal, “Huh,” in response. Joy Holiday had probably never set foot in a Walmart in her entire life.

They hung up, and he executed an unrestrained fist pump. “Yes!” This was better than he could have hoped for. What had changed her mind?

With a little more pep in his step, he strode from his vehicle to the job site he’d pulled up to moments before, a new build a few miles outside of Fall River proper.

Cully shaded his eyes with his hand. “What are you so happy about?”

Charlie slapped him on the arm, a little harder than necessary. Felt good. “I’m happy to seeyou, bro. Where the hell have you been?”

Cully jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “I had some, uh, family stuff come up I needed to deal with.” The guy was lying, no doubt about it. It wasn’t only the whiff of beer coming off him; it was his shifty eyes that darted here and there and refused to look squarely at Charlie.

Charlie decided to press. “Yeah? Everyone all right? Your mom? Your sister?”

“Yeah, yeah, they’re fine. It was just, uh …”

“You got girlfriend trouble?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Hmm. Didn’t know you were seeing anyone. Women, though, God love ’em. They make our lives pure bliss and pure hell, don’t they? From the look on your face, I’d say it’s hell for you right now.”

An awkward half-smile adorned Cully’s face. “Little of both.” Yep, lying through his teeth, though Charlie couldn’t figure out what the guy was trying to hide.

“Well, you’re gonna want to be sure you show up for work, Cully, or else I’ll have to let you go. No money equals hell on steroids with that lady of yours, which eventually leads tonolady.” Charlie was talking out of his ass, trying to smooth his way into Cully’s brain—which was a bag full of leaping crickets—and figure out what the hell the guy was up to. It wasn’t family trouble, and it wasn’t woman trouble either, unless it had to do with whether he had enough scratch to talk one into going to bed with him. The purple bags under his eyes and his greasy, disheveled hair pointed to something altogether different.

“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know,” Cully griped.

Charlie parked his hands on his hips and ducked to look Cully in the eye. “I need you here, Cully, running these guys. I can’t be everywhere at once, and right now I need to spend my time hunting down more business. You’re my lieutenant, and I trust you to cover me while I take care of the bigger picture. Like right now. I need to get to an important meeting.” It was true, and while Charlie didn’t mind lining up work, he liked to balance that part of the business with the escapism that came from working with wood. There had been too little of that lately.

“Lining up another project,boss?” Cully grinned, but it held no amusement, and the way he said “boss” … like it was a bitter pill sitting on his tongue.

Charlie had a bad feeling about this.

As he strode to his truck, one of the new temporary workers headed him off. Felix, recently from Venezuela, spoke to him in broken English. “You have more work for me, Mr. Charlie?”

Charlie liked the guy. In his late thirties or early forties, he wasn’t very skilled, but he tried to make up for it by working his ass off and bringing an unending eagerness to learn. Charlie also appreciated the fact that though Felix knew Charlie spoke Spanish, he tried addressing him in English.

“Yeah, Felix. I have work for you,” Charlie replied in Spanish. “Tomorrow, I want you to meet me at a new demo project. I’ll be able to keep you busy the rest of this week.” As Charlie gave him the address for Crystal Harmony Haven, Felix’s smile stretched so wide Charlie thought his face might break. “For the rest of today, I want you to keep an eye on this project. You’ll be my second while you’re here.”

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