Page 7 of To Bring You Back
Tegan set her mug down without peeling her attention from her screen. “Next time I’m considering teaching summer school, remind me—”
Bruce’s nails clicked on the vinyl.
At the noise, Tegan abandoned her train of thought and laughed. “Who’s this?” Within seconds, she was on her knees, scrubbing her fingers through a happy Bruce’s fur.
Adeline relayed the story as she set down the dog food and sorted the mail. A couple of statements. Some ads. One envelope from the Downtown Lakeshore Neighborhood Association. She tore the association’s letter open while Tegan dug out the water bowl they’d used last time the shelter had sent a dog home with her.
Tegan set the bowl in a corner for Bruce, chatting easily, but Adeline couldn’t focus on responses when she read the first line of the letter.
Her gut churned like the time she’d been pulled over on Main Street. She’d known the siding and porch needed attention. She hadn’t realized anyone else would care. If she’d known, she’d have found a way to repair them. Somehow.
Tegan sidled up beside her. “What’s that?”
Adeline swallowed. “The neighborhood association has rules about curb appeal.”
“Oh.” Tegan’s gaze roved over the interior of the house.
Adeline didn’t have to look around to visualize it. The rest of the downstairs had refinished hardwood and new carpet, but she hadn’t updated the kitchen. The vinyl was scuffed and yellowed. The plaster had cracked in a few places throughout the house, though she had at least applied fresh paint.
But the letter wasn’t about the interior. The neighborhood association only cared about the aging exterior. “They’re giving me ninety days to do something about the porch and the siding.”
“Or what?”
“Fines.” Big fines. Fines that got more severe the longer it took her to get the property up to standard.
“Can they do that?”
Adeline passed off the paper. Somehow, the fines—though they’d be problematic if they were levied—didn’t bother her as much as being called out for not being up to snuff. She was doing the best she could.
If only her best had ever been enough.
“There’s a statute or something meant to make Lakeshore appeal to tourists.”
And tourists did love Lakeshore. The bed-and-breakfasts and shops, like the pottery studio across the street, were peppered in among the homes and enjoyed bustling business from spring through autumn. In winter, deep snow and cold kept most visitors away, but some more adventurous types came for snowmobiling, ice caves, and cross-country skiing. Vacationers funded a significant portion of the town’s economy.
And someone thought her house had become an eyesore to those all-important tourists.
How mortifying.
Tegan studied the letter while Adeline crouched to pet Bruce. The place did need improvements—more, even, than the letter required. A troubling water spot appeared on the ceiling of one of the upstairs bedrooms after rainstorms. One of the basement walls had cracked and shifted an inch. She would’ve done the repairs years ago, but working for Superior Dogs and as a secretary for the church left her living paycheck to paycheck.
“You really ought to charge me more for rent.”
Adeline shook her head. Though the money did matter, the friendship had become more important. A teacher two years out of college, Tegan wasn’t exactly making bank either.
“There’s an opening for a career services coordinator at the college.” The first time Tegan mentioned the position, Adeline had thought she’d done so to help lighten the workload for her friend who worked in the department. But as Tegan resorted to more of a sales pitch, Adeline realized she was the one Tegan wanted to assist. “You’d be advising students, and you’d even have a staff—a few students part-time, but still.”
Adeline pressed her lips together. She wasn’t about to turn her life on its head because of a one-time problem like the letter from the neighborhood association. “I don’t have experience.”
“You have a four-year degree in communications. Between that and working with people at church, I’m sure you have the background you’d need, and the pay is good. Plus, you’d help the students. You always have good advice for me.”
“I like my jobs. Superior Dogs is just plain fun, and the church is important work.” Besides, she could make a couple of thousand dollars another way.
Bruce licked her cheek, and she hugged him to her side as she drew a deep breath. “I’ll sell my upright bass.”
Even the warmth of Bruce nudging his head into her neck didn’t ease the ache at the idea of parting with the instrument. She’d unloaded her electric bass guitar years ago because it prompted too many memories of her time as a member of a pre-fame Awestruck. However, she’d kept the classic double bass she’d learned to play in orchestra class, hoping the guilt over her mistakes with Gannon and Fitz would subside enough to allow her to return to playing for church, if nothing else. Eight years later, the thought of making her hope a reality twisted a knife of shame in her chest.
“Do you think a bass will cover all this work?”
