Page 82 of Story of My Life
“What time is it?” she asked.
I glanced down at my watch. “Eleven thirty.”
She sighed. “Eleven thirty in the morning and I’m already exhausted and I need another shower…and a shower curtain.”
“And a shovel for the wet dog hair,” I said, gesturing toward the drain.
Her face scrunched. “Gross. Maybe I’ll just hose off in the backyard.”
I heard Levi’s boots on the stairs and got to my feet. I offered Hazel my hand and hauled her up.
“Towel,” I said, as the knot between her breasts began to unravel.
She yelped and turned around. I positioned myself between her and Levi when he poked his head in the room. “Your stuff’s here,” he said, jerking a thumb toward the front of the house.
Hazel popped out around my arm. “Really?” she squeaked.
She made a move for the door, but I stopped her. “Maybe put some clothes on first?” I suggested.
I intended to get back to work on the kitchen demo, but when it became clear the now-dressed Hazel thought she was going to unload the box truck herself, Levi and I did it for her. In ten minutes, we had all the boxes in her foyer and Hazel was ripping open each carton with enthusiasm.
“My books,” she squealed, holding up a paperback with a yellow cover like she was Mufasa with a baby Simba.
“Almost forgot this,” the driver said, wheeling a bike in through the open front door. “Didn’t want it getting smashed up in the back.”
Hazel’s face lit up like a kid at the start of a Halloween parade. “My bike!”
“I hope you ride better than you drive,” I said.
“Oh, I do,” she assured me very seriously.
Levi smirked.
I shovedthe pry bar under the warped Formica counter on the short wall in the kitchen. It popped free with a reluctant groan that drowned out The Ramones playing on the wireless speaker. Once we cleared out the 1970s builder-grade cabinetry and mismatched countertops, we’d be able to start framing in the current breakfast nook as a new pantry and open up the access to the enclosed porch off the side, creating a new informal dining space.
Levi was working at the opposite end of the room, but he’d made frequent trips past the library’s glass doors where Hazel was working…or writing…or buying more houses in online auctions.
I didn’t like it. Not the buying houses at auctions. I didn’t like the part about my brother showing interest in the woman who had just last night propositioned me. And that confused me.
“Going somewhere, dickburger?” I called to Levi when I heard the telltalethunkof his pry bar hitting the plastic tool tote.
His face was as impassive as Mount Rushmore. “Gettin’ a drink.”
I turned down the volume on the speaker. An earthy snore sounded from the side porch, where Melvin was taking his second afternoon nap.
“What about the one you’ve got on the floor and the one you put on the bucket?” I asked, gesturing to an upside-down Bishop General Store bucket.
Levi stared at me, and I swore I could hear the cogs of his brain whirring into high speed. He was up to something, and whatever it was, he sure as hell wasn’t good at it.
“Thought I heard Gage come back a while ago,” he said finally.
I was just winding up to call him out on his bullshit when the muffled murmur of voices reached our ears. It was followed by a very feminine laugh. Levi and I frowned.
Someone—presumably our idiot brother—was entertaining Hazel in her office. And neither one of us liked it. Levi looked down at both sports drinks in his hand, as if wondering whether he could possibly need a third. I glanced around me, looking for an excuse.
The backsplash tile on the short cabinet wall against the porch was all intact and possibly not terrible. It looked like the kind of vintage pattern someone like Hazel would call “cute.”
“Liv?”
