Page 51 of My Favorite Lost Cause
Am I falling for William Howard? Am I falling for Charlie?
Falling for either of them is definitely a lost cause.
24
CHARLIE
I’ve just come around the cove’s corner, at the tail end of my run, when Maren appears from the opposite direction, blonde ponytail and perky tits bouncing equally, the sun glancing off her shoulders and the crown of her head. Her eyes widen at the sight of me, suddenly wary.
It’s the finger thing, from last night. I meant it as a joke. I was just going topretendto do it. But my palm circled her wrist and someone else entirely took over. I was still telling myself it was funny, but I knew it wasn’t, and the minute her finger was in my mouth…fuck. The things I wanted to do to that finger would make a porn star blush. And apparently, she knew.
The evening went back to normal after that, aside from the fact that I had a semi all through dinner. Which actually isn’t all that abnormal either, now that Maren’s gotten so casual with her bra use.
But it looks like I’ve got to fix things.
“Hey,” I say, jogging to a halt on the gravel path and leaning against a tree to stretch. “How far are you going?”
She wipes her brow and looks at her watch. “I was going to do another half mile, then turn around.”
“Learn anything new from your journal last night?” Her eyes widen and something guilty flashes across her face.
She blushes and shakes her head. “I’m not going to read it anymore. I’m gonna leave the whole thing alone.”
“That’s a sudden change.”
She doesn’t quite meet my eye. “You were right, last night. It isn’t a novel. It’s real life. And if it doesn’t end happily, I’d rather not know.”
The inspector arrives shortlyafter breakfast.
He’s approaching retirement age and surly from the get-go. Even Maren can’t get a smile out of him, when she emerges from the house in all her long-legged glory to offer him a cup of coffee.
“Don’t know how you thought this place was gonna pass,” he says, spitting on the ground as he approaches the porch stairs. “I can already tell you right now it’s not.”
“Well, if the state hadn’t moved the inspection date up by two weeks with almost no warning,” I snap, “maybe it would be different.”
Elijah gives me a look…the kind that sayssettle the fuck down. And he’s right. I’m not going to win this guy over by arguing with him, but it’s also pretty clear he can’t be won over.
“We’ve got a crew starting work on the roof tomorrow,” Elijah says, “and we’ll have the porch done by the week’s end.”
The inspector rolls his eyes. “Thanks for telling me what I already knew, which is that this is a goddamn waste of my time.”
He stomps around the house, scowling, marking things down, and eventually I just let Elijah follow him because I’m too angry to deal with even one more of his bitter, laughing, “yeah, that’s not up to code” comments beneath his breath.
“What happens if we don’t pass?” Maren asks, wide-eyed.
“I have no idea. I assume we appeal.” I scrub a hand over my face. I’m not from the South, but I have a decent idea of how the law and due process work, and this entire thing feels shady—the inspection that came in as soon as I turned down the property developer, the timing of it, and the way this guy’s had it in for us from the minute he stepped out of his truck.
Something underhanded is going on, so the normal rules might not apply. And I don’t know what the hell we do then.
That afternoon,someone tapes a sign on the window while we’re in back saying the property is condemned. The letter they’ve slid through the mail slot informs us that any inhabitants must vacate the premises immediately.
We’ll appeal, but if that fails, the state will be demolishing the house in the next thirty to sixty days…at my expense.
“It’s that fucking developer,” I hiss, sitting at the table on the back porch with Maren and Elijah—technically, I guess, we should no longer be sitting out here or using the kitchen, but fuck that. “If this guy is gunning for us, he’ll find a way to condemn us no matter what we do between now and then.”
Maren pours us each a glass of wine—I know a situation is stressful whenshe’sthe one suggesting alcohol.
"There’s also a strong possibility that whoever wants your land this badly will just go ahead and get a crew out here to tear the house down in thirty days’ time and claim it was a miscommunication, regardless of whether or not you’ve gotten your extension. You could sue for it, obviously, but that won’t be worth much, given the shape the house is in now.”
