Mister Fixit (Love in New York #3)
Read Mister Fixit (Love in New York #3) Online
Authors: Elle Casey
Mister Fixit
Elle Casey
COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2015 Elle Casey, all rights reserved, worldwide.
No part of this ebook may be reproduced, uploaded to the Internet, or copied without author permission.
DEDICATION
For Amy Townsend,
one of my most dedicated reader-fans.
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OTHER BOOKS BY ELLE CASEY
ROMANCE
Shine Not Burn
(2-book series)
Don’t Make Me Beautiful
By Degrees
Rebel
(3-book series)
Full Measure
(written as Kat Lee)
Just One Night
(romantic serial)
Just One Week
(romantic serial)
Love in New York
(3-book series)
Mismatched
(with Amanda McKeon)
PARANORMAL
Duality
(2-book series)
Pocket Full of Sunshine
(short story & screenplay)
URBAN FANTASY
War of the Fae
(7-book series)
My Vampire Summer
Aces High
(with Jason Brant)
DYSTOPIAN
Apocalypsis
(4-book series)
ACTION ADVENTURE
Wrecked
(2-book series)
Chapter One
I DON’T WANT TO BE here in this big apartment all by myself. Everywhere I look, I’m reminded of the love that used to dwell here with me.
Cassie
. My niece in name but every other way, my daughter… the baby who was thrust into my life when I least expected it, forcing me into the role of mother to a newborn at twenty-six, much earlier than I’d planned. But I made it work. We not only survived but thrived. She grew new teeth. She learned to sit up. She started to eat solid food. She can drink from a cup now and not just a bottle. I changed hundreds, maybe thousands of diapers, walked the floors with her crying in my arms, stroked her soft head when she finally did sleep. But then her father came back from the dead and claimed her as his, and Robinson, that bastard, made it really easy for him to get what he wanted.
I’ll never forgive him for that. Robinson could have backed out, claiming a conflict of interest or something. It wouldn’t have been a lie, either. He had that conflict, or so I’d hoped. I’d been counting on the idea that after all these years of me looking at Robinson with love in my eyes that he’d finally noticed and began doing all the things he did for our family not out of obligation but out of something else —
a connection to me. To my heart. I’d been so sure there was something between us. But I was wrong. I was so, so wrong.
Even if there were something there before, there isn’t now. Robinson and I are over before we began, and I need to get out of here before I start breaking holes in the walls.
I grab my purse and sling it over my shoulder, taking my keys from the front-hall table as I go out the door. As I’m locking up, the door behind me opens, and my neighbor across the hall sticks her head out. That’s all she’s capable of doing, being that she suffers from a pretty severe case of agoraphobia.
“Jana,” she whispers.
“Yes, Rose?” I turn when my lock is fully seated.
“Are you going to the grocery by any chance?”
I smile weakly. It’s the best I can do when my heart’s in this state. “Not right away, but I was thinking about going out later. Why? Do you need something I can grab for you?” I know for a fact she has her groceries delivered, but once in a while when she only needs something small, she’ll ask me to buy it for her. I don’t mind. She seems like a nice woman, even though I don’t know her very well.
“Oh, that’s okay, I don’t want to bother you.” She starts pulling her head back inside.
“No, it’s fine, Rose.” I make an effort at using a cheerier tone. “I’m sorry if I sound so blasé right now. I’m just … tired.”
Rose’s head re-emerges. For some reason seeing her head coming out like that reminds me of a baby being born, and I lose my smile.
“What’s the matter?” She smiles kindly. “Baby keeping you up at night again?” She never complained about Casssie’s crying, even though I knew she could hear it on the few occasions I would stay here in the city and not out in Brooklyn. My other neighbors weren’t nearly as understanding, which is why I spent more time out at Jeremy’s place than I did here.
“No.” I try to say more, but I can’t. My mouth starts to tremble and tears rush to fill my eyes.
Rose’s face falls. “Oh, dear. Have I said something wrong? Would you like to come in for some tea?”
I’ve never been inside Rose’s apartment, always leaving her requested grocery items with her at the door, but the need to be with another human being and curiosity have me saying yes to her offer. I need a distraction from all this emotion and maybe she can be that for me right now.
“Come in, come in,” she says, waving at me from a door open wider than I’ve ever seen from her.
I walk in with my eyes bugging out. I had assumed that along with agoraphobia, Rose would also suffer from pathological hoarding. I don’t know why; my own ignorance, I suppose. But as soon as I’m just two steps into the place, I realize she’s anything but.
After entering her foyer, I follow her into another room, past antiques I know to be worth a fortune. We enter a formal living room that’s at least three times the size of mine.
I smile as a few mysteries connect and finally make sense. No wonder those doors next to hers never opened. She owns the space behind all of them, having combined three apartments into one giant place. I thought my apartment was a good investment, but hers puts mine to shame.
“Is Earl Grey okay with you, or do you prefer herbal tea?” She shuffles off to the kitchen.
I watch her go, admiring her dark blue kaftan paired with black pants. Even though she never leaves the apartment, she’s dressed as if she’s about to go shopping and have lunch with a wealthy friend. Her hair and makeup are flawless, which is saying a lot for a woman of her age, and I estimate that to be about eighty-five. Both of my grandmothers eschewed makeup in their later years, claiming it was more trouble than it was worth.
“I’ll have whatever you’re having.” I raise my voice to be heard in the other room. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble, believe me. I’m glad of the company. Tea is always better when shared.” She reappears at the entry to the room. “Have a seat, dear. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” She points to a chair and turns around, tottering a little and holding the wall for a moment for support.
I never noticed any hints of frailty in her before, but then I guess that’s not surprising since I only ever see her head. Who knows, she could be falling all over the place in here, and I’d never find out about it until an ambulance showed up. Jesus, I’m a shit neighbor.
Imagining her lying on this carpet here with no way to communicate amplifies my concern for her wellbeing. Should she even be living here on her own? I should probably pry a little when she gets here with the tea. Maybe she has a son or a daughter who checks in on her that I’ve never noticed. That would be nice; then I won’t have to worry quite as much.
Before taking the seat she suggested, I wander over to some shelves on the far wall. There are no photographs to identify any children in her life, just books and archeological artifacts that look like ancient deities carved out of stone, very worn in some places. I’m tempted to touch one of them, but I resist. I’ve been to enough museums with
Do Not Touch
signs on them that my instincts tell me to keep my hands to myself.
Her books range from the classics to references on the Bronze Age, Polytheism, and the Middle East. I’m just about to reach for one of them when a noise behind me distracts me and makes me turn around.
A cat is sitting on the nearby table, staring at me.
I rest my hand on my chest, my heart fluttering underneath at an abnormally fast rate. “Kitty, you scared me.” I walk over with my hand held out. The cat merely watches me. “I didn’t know you lived here.” I attempt to stroke her head, but she moves away, absolutely not interested in any attention from me. I’ll be honest; the rejection stings.
I frown at her. What kind of cat doesn’t want a little stroke now and then? She walks along the back of a couch, and I follow with my hand out. “Come here, Kitty, I just want to pet you.” My crazy brain is thinking she’s just misunderstood my motives. As soon as she realizes I’m only there to be her servant, she’ll jump right up for the opportunity.
She leaps from the couch to a chair, and I’m right behind her. “Just one pet. Come on, you know you like it.” It’s become a personal challenge. She thinks she doesn’t want attention from me, but she’s wrong. As soon as she gets one little tickle behind the ear, she’ll want more. I’m great with cats.
I nearly pounce on her as I reach the chair, but she’s too fast for me. She leaps to the floor and skitters across the wood parquet, escaping through the legs of her owner into the room beyond.
Rose looks down at the cat and then up at me, bewildered. “Well! I guess she’s in a hurry to get somewhere.”
My face grows pink as I wonder whether Rose saw me chasing her cat around the room. How embarrassing. When have I ever been invited into someone’s home and then proceeded to terrorize their family pet? What’s gotten into me? Why am I acting so strangely? So the cat didn’t want any affection from me. Is that a crime now? And why do I feel so utterly rejected? It’s just a damn cat, and not a very friendly one at that.
“Here, let me help you,” I say, moving across the room to take the tea tray from her. It looks heavy, and I need the distraction.
“Oh, that’s okay, I have everything in hand. If you’ll just move those magazines out of the way for me.” I follow her gaze to the coffee table that has four magazines spread out around it. One is a
Vogue
, the others are all journals of some sort.
Turning to move them out of her path, I smile, still feeling awkward over harassing her poor cat. “What a beautiful tea service that is,” I say, hoping she’ll forget about how fast her kitty was moving when he left. “I rarely see the real thing anymore.”
“Yes, well, I tend to be a little old-fashioned, you could say.”
I try to keep smiling, but now I’m feeling even worse. First I stalk her cat, then I tell her she’s a fuddy duddy. “No, I didn’t mean it that way. I really do like it. Some things shouldn’t change.” I stand and give her my best smile, willing my lips not to tremble.
She laughs as she puts the tray down, the cups and saucers clinking together as they rattle around. “Oh, not to worry, dear. I didn’t take offense.”
I sit down in a nearby wing-backed chair and fold my hands in my lap. I’m probably better off treating this whole place like a museum at this point. I seem to have lost both my grace and my manners, and Rose seems like the kind of person who’s used to having those things around.
She starts to pour some tea into one of the cups. “So, you chased Mumfry right out of the room, eh?”
I nearly choke on my own saliva.
Chapter Two
SHE CHUCKLES. “HE’S THE MOST pig-headed pussycat that ever lived. Don’t take it personally if he didn’t let you pet him.” She holds up the saucer and cup. “Sugar, dear?”
My face if flaming red and I’ve started to perspire. I feel like I’m being punked by an eighty-five year old recluse. Not my proudest moment. “Yes, one please. Thank you. No milk.”