Page 2 of Daddy's Game

I gave her a dirty look she didn’t see, as her eyes were focused on shining the light on the wooden steps below us. The basement wasn’t too bad…if you were into dungeons that would be at home in one of the Saw or Hostel movies.

“No time for dating. I’ve got enough problems as it is.”

I put my foot down from the last step. Cold dampness enveloped my foot, soaking through my shoe to my sock.

“Oh man, it leaked in here again. I didn’t even think it rained that much last night.”

“That’s because it didn’t,” Selma replied. “Not that it takes much anymore. Mitch said we need to call a plumber to clear the drain.”

“Not to mention finding the source of the leak and sealing it…which will probably cost thousands of dollars. Minimum.”

“Hey, Grace, you ever wonder if God himself is against this center staying open?”

“All the time. All the freaking time.”

I sloshed through the water until I reached the far wall. Selma shined her flashlight at the fuse box, which stood open. Two boxes, red and green, sat on the inside of the box’s bottom. Red for blown fuses, green for new ones.

“Bring that light a little closer.”

Using her illumination, I found the blown fuse and unscrewed it. I fished about for a new one, and then plugged it into place.

The lights came back on, and I sighed in relief.

“At least that problem was easy to solve. And only cost a couple bucks for the fuse.”

We headed back to the ground floor. Selma went back to her painting class, while I returned to my office. I found a teenage girl standing outside, looking anxious.

“What is it, Shelby?”

“Miz Grace,” she said in her thick—or should I say ‘tick’ Noo Yowk accent. “There’s some guy here to see you.”

I looked at her warily.

“Does he look like a bill collector?”

“I don’t think so.” She shook her mane of curly hair. “He’s dressed too nice for that. I think he has a real Rolex on his wrist.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Great, that means he’s another developer. I’m tired of them strutting around here and offering to buy the building off of me all the damn time. Where is he?”

“I left him in the lobby, next to the check in desk.”

“Is Dolores in yet?”

“No.”

Dolores was another volunteer, a retiree with a penchant for Bingo and rapping about the good old days with anyone who would listen. She was supposed to start at ten in the morning, but rarely made it in until noon. But what was I going to do? Fire her?

“All right. Go back to class. I’ll take care of this.”

I stomped to the lobby, my ire fully raised. After a morning of frustrations I was looking forward to a target I could unload upon.

“All right, what do you want…”

My voice trailed off as I entered the lobby and saw the man standing there. First of all, he was big—well over six feet tall, with a thick chest and narrow, tapered waist that suggested a top tier fitness regimen.

His size would have been discombobulating enough on its own, if he weren’t also drop dead gorgeous. Dark eyes full of confidence yet somehow inscrutable peered out at me, cutting through my many layers of defenses as if they weren’t there.

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