“Let me look at you,” she said, so he dropped the grocery bags on the table and obligingly held out his arms. She looked him up and down and nodded, satisfied.
“What are you doing here, Ma?” he asked. “I’m glad to see you, but I wasn’t expecting you for two weeks. I’m not ready for decorating yet. I was going to call you when I got all the floors done.”
His mother had an eye for color and she’d been itching to help with his building rehab. He’d promised she could pick out carpet and drapes and furniture and all the knickknacks that made the house he’d grown up in a real home.
“Grace started preschool,” she said. “My last grandbaby is in school and I didn’t have anything to do with my mornings. So I came to see you.”
“You should have called. I’d have left you a key or met you at the airport.”
She frowned mildly. “I drove myself from Chicago. I’m not as old as you think.”
“That she is not,” a voice boomed from the kitchen and David turned, surprised. He’d heard the voice of his first-floor tenant but saw no body to go with it.
“Glenn? What the hell are you doing in my apartment?”
“David,” his mother admonished. “Mr. Redman had a key. He let me in.”
“I’m not mad he’s here. I’m mad he’s down there.” David went around the counter and looked down to where Glenn Redman sat on the floor, meticulously lining up tiles, the light from the bare bulb reflecting off his shiny bald head. “Are you all right?”
Redman gave him a sour glare. “I’m fine. I know what I can do.”
“Famous last words,” David said, just as sourly. Then he looked at the tile the old man had arranged in a precise geometric design. “Not bad.”
“It’s damn good, boy,” Redman huffed. “Better than you were doing. Admit it.”
“Okay. I admit it. Thank you.”
“Was that so hard?” Redman held out a hand and David pulled him to his feet, holding on until the older man was steady. He was on the tail end of what had been a long series of chemo, and his prognosis was good, but he still didn’t have the energy he’d had when David first met him at the firehouse, seven months ago. That was just weeks before the doctors discovered Glenn’s tumor and just a month before he became David’s first paying tenant. Of course, payment was a relative thing.
David’s apartment house was ideally located near the hospital, while Redman’s retirement cabin was too far for him to easily get to his chemo treatments. So they’d made a trade. While Redman lived here, David got use of the cabin and its lake full of walleye. Both were happy with the arrangement.
“Nope, wasn’t hard to admit at all. I hate tile work,” David said then looked at his mom. “Don’t believe anything he says, Ma. He’s a consummate liar.”
She was looking through his grocery bags. “Why do you have filled baby bottles?”
Redman held out his hand, looking satisfied. “Ten.”
Narrowing his eyes, David pulled out his wallet and smacked a ten-dollar bill into the old man’s hand. “Don’t gloat. Glenn bet me that the refrigerator in 2A wouldn’t last another week. I hoped it would last until I got the floor done.”
She pushed him gently out of the way and began putting the girls’ groceries in his fridge. “There are babies in 2A, I take it.”
“Damn revolving door,” Glenn grumbled. “Mrs. Edwards takes in unwed mothers.”
“He plays with the babies when he thinks nobody’s looking,” David said.
“You’ve got yourself quite a full house,” his mother said. “All those names on the mailboxes downstairs surprised me. I didn’t think I’d find anyone living here yet.”
David shrugged. “It wasn’t my plan either. But people needed a place. I have room. It didn’t seem right to say no.”
“Boy’s a damn pushover,” Glenn grumbled.
His mother smiled. “Where can I sleep, son? You don’t have much furniture.”
Just a bed. Because he’d really, really hoped Olivia would call. “I was waiting to let you pick everything out. You can have my bed. I’ve got an air mattress and-”
“David? David, are you here?” It was a new voice at his open front door, one that sounded abnormally upset. Moments later a tall, raven-haired beauty stood in his kitchen doorway, eyes narrowed. “I need to talk to you. Now. Please.”
His mother looked at Glenn, who shrugged. “Never seen this one,” Glenn said.
“Mom, this is Paige Holden. Paige, this is my mother and Glenn. Paige is from the dojo and is normally very polite.” David frowned at her. “Why aren’t you being polite?”
Paige drew a deep breath. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. I’m sorry I barged in. I didn’t know David had company.”
His mother looked fascinated. “I’m always glad to meet my son’s friends.”
“And that’s all she is, Mom,” David inserted before his mother could get the wrong idea. “Paige and I are friends and sparring partners. She kicks my ass every Tuesday and Thursday when I’m not on shift.”
“So you’re a black belt, too?” his mother asked and Paige nodded.
“Yes, ma’am. David helps me with a self-defense class I teach. He’s our uke.”
“The attacker,” David explained. “Then her students get to kick my ass.”
Paige’s brows lifted. “One puts a great deal of trust in one’s uke,” she said meaningfully. “You trust him with your safety. You expect him to be honest.”
“I see,” his mother said. “You obviously have something on your mind, so Glenn and I will put this food away, and the two of you can talk.”
“Thank you.” Puzzled, David led her back to his empty spare bedroom and closed the door. “What the hell, Paige?” he asked, all pretense of politeness gone.
She jabbed her fists to her hips. “You used me. You jerk.”
“How did I use you?”
“Olivia came into the gym this morning. Really early, so she could avoid me.”
David winced. “It’s been a while since she’s been to the gym.”
“Which you know because you’ve been reading the sign-in sheets. Rudy told me. He also told me you’d asked about Olivia and that he told you we were old friends.”
“Rudy’s a weasel,” David muttered and her ruby lips twitched, but just once.
“That’s what Olivia said this morning because Rudy told me she’d come in.” Her expression darkened. “Goddammit, you know her. And I mean that in the biblical sense. You knew I knew her and you never said a word. Did you join my dojo just to use me to get to her?”
In the biblical sense. Based on his vague recollections, that was quite possibly the truth. “It’s not what you think.” He sighed. “I met Olivia at a wedding.”
“I know. Her sister Mia’s wedding two and a half years ago. After which the biblical knowing ensued.” Her voice rose. “After which you never called her.”
“Quiet,” he hissed. “My mother has ears like a damn bat. I met Olivia at the rehearsal dinner. I was sitting on the steps of the church, putting off going inside.”
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why?”
“Because it was one more wedding I’d leave alone.”
Paige’s look turned skeptical. “Now you want me to believe you have trouble getting a woman. You? Mr. Perfect, who’s too nice to possibly be true? Please.”
His laugh was mirthless. “Look at you. You’re gorgeous. You’re nice. Usually. Do you have a good man?”
Her shoulders sagged. “Point taken, thank you very much. But I’m fucked up.”
“Well, honey, you’re not the only one,” he said bitterly. “We all have our issues.”
She considered this. “Fair enough. So why did you glom onto me? Why me?”
“Evie took your self-defense class and she said you were good, so I came to the dojo to meet you. I liked it there, so I joined. I didn’t know you knew Olivia, not at first.”
“Olivia recommended my class to Eve,” Paige said and he could see she believed him. “So we’re caught up in a circle of friends. But then you went all spy-guy. Why?”