Needs A Little TLC (Spinning Hills Romance 2) (9 page)

“You’re a good father,” she continued her sales pitch, “and you employ your brothers—”

“Hold up,” Sam said, his amusement gone. “I don’t
employ
my brothers. Please don’t go around saying that. Dan’s a successful lawyer, and you know better than anyone that Johnny will soon earn his PhD. They’re helping me out. They’re partners. They’re not my employees.”

Marianne Amador’s face hardened ever so slightly. “Daniel stands to make a lot of money from those properties, probably more than he makes as a lawyer. It’s not like he has an office or even a job.”

Sam clenched his jaw and tried to keep his voice even. “He makes a great living doing research and writing up legal opinions. He works from home. You know that.”

“Right,” she said, with an even tone but a conceited look.

A look and an attitude that would never go away. No matter what Sam and Johnny said. If Sam pushed the topic, she’d go and tell the first person who’d listen that Dan had Sam brainwashed. That she was only trying to protect Sam and Johnny. That years of trying hard by Dan had taught her the truth.

And that would be a real disservice to Dan. So Sam shut up and, eventually, his mom left.

It was still early enough to get some work done and make up for the time he’d spent on Cassie’s bike, and he no longer had a family to go home to weekday nights, so Sam drove over to Grandma Maddie’s old house.

Tons of ideas flooded in as he walked through it. It would be one of the easier rehabs, and he wondered why he hadn’t worked on it before. The place looked, as Cassie had said, as if it was in tatters, but nearly everything it needed was cosmetic.

If his brothers knew the colors and materials he was thinking about using, they wouldn’t understand. But as he studied the house from all angles, intuition took over, and he knew it would all work. The house would be the way he remembered Maddie being, unprepossessing and warm, but full of charm and boundless energy. Except it wasn’t an image of Maddie that kept intruding into his thoughts.

Tomorrow would be his and Cassie’s first official meeting as business partners, and he looked forward to letting her know she would not be calling all the shots.

S
am headed to the Tudor on Manor Row. He planned on arriving there a full half hour before Cassie. When he pulled up, a ’74 Mustang was parked out front and Cassie was sitting on the front steps, a camera around her neck. He should’ve known she’d beat him to the punch. Once Cassie had ants in her pants, she couldn’t wait to get going.

A warm breeze signaled winter’s definitive end in a way a calendar and mere dates couldn’t, and he walked up to her with renewed hope.

Cassie hopped up and clapped her hands together. “Let’s get started. I can’t wait to see all the properties.” She was wearing the tight, athletic-type pants and zipped hoodie that were apparently trending in suburbia USA and that he usually hated. But the constantly-on-the-move look was a good fit for her. So good, he struggled to keep his eyes from traveling up and down her new-to-him curves.

Her hair was in a dratted pigtail, though. Did she ever wear it down anymore? It was nonsensical, but he longed to see it in all its fiery, crowning glory.

Sam shook the thought off and walked past her, pausing at the door while he looked for the right key number on the large ring where he kept thirty-four identical keys.

“Wow,” Cassie said as she stepped through the door and took in the spacious foyer and cascading double staircase. “Can you believe I’ve never been in any of these?”

“I’ve been in all of them.” He grinned back at her. “I’ve had to break in a few times.”

Cassie shot him a mischievous, conspiratorial look, but the moment their eyes met, she looked away and became serious. “You said you were turning it into four condos. It looks complicated. Do you have blueprints yet?”

“Not yet, no. This will be the last project in this round, and Dan, Johnny, and I want to work on this one together.” What he didn’t say was that if the other properties didn’t start selling soon, he might never get to it, much less to a second round.

Cassie nodded, her attention focused on the elaborate wrought-iron rails and mahogany handrail. She ran her hands over it. “It’s so beautiful.”

Sam watched her soft-looking hands running over the rugged, weathered wood. Her nails were uneven. He found that oddly endearing. Not wanting her to see how pleased he was with her enthusiasm and not wanting his eyes to stray, he shifted into business mode. “I’ll show you around, but we’ll have to make it quick. We have six properties to visit, discuss, and take pictures of, and I need to pick up Jake from school.”

“Six? I want to see all twelve. I understand about Jake, but I can be here again tomorrow. I booked my go-to stagers for six houses last night—I just need to choose which houses they’ll be.”

“I already let Lisa and Craig, the other two Realtors, choose the three they’d each get early this morning.”

“You what?” She turned, hands fisted, eyes blazing.

He folded his arms. “Didn’t you read the addendum on the contract I sent over before you signed?”

“I haven’t yet signed.” She folded her arms, too.

Sam ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t have time for this, and normally, that would be exactly what he’d say. But he was impressed with the fact that she’d already booked stagers. His respect for her as a professional grew. She was on it, and that was exactly what he needed.

“I need to be fair, Cass. They’re good people. I wouldn’t have hired them if they weren’t. They understood I was giving you the bigger share because you have ties to this town. Also, you’re new enough to this market that you don’t have any other properties in town and you’ll be able to devote more of your time. They each already have a few other properties here. But I need you to understand, too.”

She dropped her arms. “Okay, that makes sense, no need to get all huffy. I’m not unreasonable,” she said, as if she hadn’t just shot daggers at him with her eyes. “We’ll be working together, after all, showing each other’s listings to potential clients, meeting at closings, and splitting commissions. I don’t want to get started with them on the wrong foot. I was just overreaching, but I know when to pull back.”

Sam bit back a smile and she caught it. “I’ve changed,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “And we agreed not to talk about the past.”

Sam held his hands up. “I didn’t say a thing.”

After a more thorough and far more enjoyable tour of the mansion than he had time for, Cassie took a seat on the bottom step, pulled a small laptop out of its sleeve, and began typing.

He looked at his watch. “What are you doing?”

“Typing.”

“I can see that, but we have six more properties to visit.”

“I know, but before we do, I want to better understand your mission. I’m not just going to be selling your houses, Sam. I’m going to be selling the town and your vision. My clients find me because they don’t want to just buy a house, they want to find a home by becoming part of a community. These houses and this town aren’t for everyone, you know.”

With a relief he hadn’t felt in ages, Sam sat down, set his hands gently on her shoulders, and looked down into her startled eyes. “That’s it, Cass.”

“What’s it?” she asked, staring back.

Sam knew he should let go of her shoulders, but he couldn’t. He needed her on his side, needed to make her see. The words stumbled out clumsily. “I’ve read your blog. You get the heart and soul of each community. Do that here. Help me keep Spinning Hills’ character intact. I don’t want the crazies to turn it into one of their trendy up-and-coming bubbles.”

Cassie bit her lip and smiled up at him. “Care to elaborate on that just a little bit more?”

Her sweet gaze was back. He let out a low, breathy laugh and shook his head. “Jake calls some of these suburban parents
the crazies
.” He looked into her eyes again, studying her reaction, needing to convey how strongly he felt about it all. “Do you know who built the gazebo and who painted the bridges?” When Cassie shook her head, he continued. “We did. Town residents. And we had a hell of a good time doing it. We didn’t put a levy on a ballot to raise property taxes and hire others to do it—we came together and did what needed to be done.”

Cassie’s smile lit up her face, and, unable to look at her without feeling close to her again, Sam stood up. “The moment our school district was rated excellent, people started buying up houses, and some became involved by trying to turn the town into something it’s not. They wanted to pass ordinances on landscaping, put up trendier signs, and ban certain colors on houses. Mr. Evans painted his house purple in protest. And that’s part of what Spinning Hills is, you know? A purple bungalow on a hill. An overgrown lawn here and there. I want to keep the crazies out, Cass. Right now, they’re trying to get our chamber of commerce to attract a major sandwich chain and a major coffee shop chain. They’d take business away from our local ones, and we’ve always been about incubating small, independent businesses, even if some fail and we end up with a few more vacancies than other towns.”

Cassie was quiet and he looked down to see her studying him. “I think that’s the longest speech I’ve ever heard from you, Samuel Amador.”

“Yeah, well, I think it’s important,” he said, gazing down at her again, taking in her lopsided smile, stamping it in his memory. It hinted at understanding and amusement. Somehow, he knew she’d try to reason with him, like everyone else who thought him unreasonable, but it didn’t matter. The understanding mattered.

“I think it’s important, too, Sam, but you can’t keep everyone like that out. That’s not the way it works and we both know you know it.” She shook her head at him, her smile in place, and turned to stare out the front window. Her foot began to tap. Her smile disappeared into a thoughtful pout. Moments later, she shot up and began to pace. “
But
. . . if we emphasize the things about the town that everyone who lives here loves, it may just attract the kind of people who’ll want to preserve its current charm and character.”

She stopped in front of him, her eyes unfocused and faraway. “If every Realtor in town with listings or clients who are looking at houses here works together, we could do something like an open town instead of an open house.” She looked at him then, her expression bright. “That’s it! We can call it an Open Town. We can plan a tour that highlights the town’s gypsy history, shows off its haunted houses and their stories. Businesses can set out samples or offer discounts for the day. We’ll be able to share everything that makes the town special, like the things that you just said about working together. It should turn away people who are looking for the latest trend and attract those who are looking for something more authentic. Right now, there are over twenty houses on the market . . . we can do this.”

Sam’s heart began to thump faster and the weight on his shoulders lifted, ever so slightly. It was a good idea . . . in fact, it was pretty great. “When?”

“I’ll work on a plan this weekend. If I can get enough people on board early next week, we can do this two weeks from this Sunday.”

“Two weeks?” He looked down at her. The houses were almost ready, but he could see it now. Two weeks spelled whirlwind planning and loose ends. “It’s a great idea, Cass, but you’re plowing into it again. A month is doable. Two weeks is madness.”

“
Again?
” She gritted her teeth. “We agreed. You don’t know me anymore. I calm down now. I think,” she said, looking anything but calm and thoughtful. But she surprised him by clearing the glare from her face, blowing out a breath, and saying, “Three weeks. It’s totally doable.”

Sam nodded, slowly, as his mind ran through possible scenarios. It was doable. “Sounds good . . . but I’ll need you to start showing properties right away.”

“Of course. I’m planning on holding open houses next Sunday. I won’t be able to be here the entire time, though.” She looked down at her watch. “Now, let’s get started. I have two open houses, four showings, and two closings this weekend in Cincinnati, but starting Monday I’ll look at every listing in town and talk to the other Realtors while I run around downtown getting businesses excited and on board. If most of them agree and we work together like you say, three weeks is doable.”

Sam shook his head. She made it sound as if she had zero life outside her business. “How can you do more than two open houses?”

“I have a trusted network of part-time Realtors I hire, and I run around making sure everything’s running along the way it’s supposed to.”

The Cassie he’d grown up with had trouble remembering what she had to do the next day, let alone the following month. Yet she now seemed to have it together. “How do you keep track of it all?” he asked, genuinely interested.

She held up her phone and smiled, looking proud. “It’s all in a calendar, linked to my e-mail and my reminders, and backed up to a cloud, for when I lose my phone, which is more often than I’d like. I put everything into my calendar and set up three reminders the moment I set anything up, and I’m constantly checking my schedule. If I run out of milk or shaving cream, it immediately goes into my reminders and the moment I pass a supermarket, my phone dings with the reminder. Anything I need to do, whether it’s a call I have to make or a birthday present I have to buy, goes in. Anything I know I don’t need gets thrown away or donated at the moment. No clutter. Plus I have tons of storage. Anything I’m not sure I should get rid of, I stuff somewhere.”

Sam mirrored her smile. “So, you like old houses and old cars, yet you can’t live without your modern phone.”

She looked at him as if he were dense. “If they were new, I wouldn’t be interested in them and I wouldn’t need new technology to keep up with the busy life I’ve built around them.”

Sam furrowed his brow, trying hard to follow her logic. It had never been easy. “Sounds like you’ve got it all worked out. What do you need me to do?”

“Keep working on the next twelve houses so we can make this is a biannual event. Come on, let’s go!”

Sam followed Cassie out the door, excitement building within, his sense of purpose infused with her sense of adventure.

As he walked Cassie through one property after another, he began to look at her with new eyes. Cassie McGillicuddy had it together.

And every time she took notice of a particular detail he’d personally worked on, new feelings that had nothing to do with days gone by were awakened. Her enthusiasm and understanding made him feel a new connection to her, even though she kept her distance, even though she insisted on following him in her own car from house to house.

Weak sunlight breaking through large, shifting, misty clouds lent the day an unreal feeling as she followed him around, both of them caught in a sometimes haunted, often whimsical world of folkloric English, Tudor, and French Normandy Revival cottages and bungalows decked out in stone, brick, and ironwork; imaginative, asymmetrical roofs; and multi-light windows.

“I love this front door,” she exclaimed, her entire face lighting up as she took in the arched cedar door with speakeasy grill, clavos, and corner brackets. “It looks medieval.”

Sam grinned. “It goes with the turret. How many people can say that about a house they’ve worked on?”

Cassie smiled up at him, eager and excited, as he opened the door. “It sets the tone. I feel like I’m about to walk into another time and place.”

Sam looked away. Her zeal over the little touches and details in each house was filling a loneliness he hadn’t known he was carrying around.

The next house had been Johnny’s project, but Cassie walked over to the one contribution Sam had made. She ran her fingers over the custom stair rails. “Tree branches. That must’ve been expensive.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Not really. I made them.”

Cassie didn’t turn around to look at him, but she studied each and every railing closely and took pictures. “I’ve always had big ideas and I can see them so clearly in my head, but I can’t execute them like this. Like you. It takes skill and art and precision . . .” She sounded awed and Sam didn’t know what to say to that.