Chasing Bailey, page 2
part #3 of Lake Harriet Series
“I brought you a fresh jar of chicken noodle soup,” Kristen said, handing the old-fashioned Ball jar to Lisa.
Lisa brightened. “Thanks! I love your soup, and so does Abby. It’s a lifesaver after a long day at work.”
“I’m glad you enjoy it,” Kristen said. “How’s your new job?”
Lisa’s shoulders sagged. “I’m thankful I have it and the hours are perfect, but to tell the truth, I’m beat. I never realized how hard it was to work all day and come home to a toddler. I guess I was spoiled before.”
Kristen nodded. “I feel lucky I’m home full-time these days. Being an oncology nurse was draining, but I did love it. I’m sure I’ll go back to work once the kids are older, but for now, this is all I can take.”
Lisa’s brows rose. “Kids?”
Kristen grinned. “Yeah. I just found out I’m three months pregnant.”
“That’s wonderful!” Lisa squealed, hugging her friend. “Congratulations!”
“Thanks,” Kristen said. “Ryan is excited too. You’re the first person I’ve told.”
“I feel special,” Lisa said with a laugh. “You’re going to be a very busy woman in a few months.”
Kristen nodded. “Yeah. It’ll be strange to have two children, but I’m up for the challenge.”
Lisa knew Kristen was more than up for the challenge. Ever since she’d moved into the neighborhood, when she and Andrew had bought the house from Kristen, she’d realized how amazing Kristen was. Kristen was not only a great mother, but she also cared about her neighbors and friends and always thought of others. She’d babysat for Lisa many times, expecting nothing in return, and had even been a shoulder to cry on when Andrew had left her last January. She was a true friend.
“What were you staring at when I interrupted you?” Kristen asked.
“Oh, Bailey escaped the yard again yesterday and of course he ran right for the hermit’s house. So I made him stay inside all day and the poor boy had an accident on the floor. I’m trying to figure out how to stop him from digging under the fence.”
Kristen studied the fence line. “So that’s why you’ve been piling rocks near the fence.”
Lisa nodded. “I don’t know what else to do. I can’t afford to have anything professionally done.”
Kristen placed her hands on her hips. “Is Andrew still fighting you for joint custody?”
“Yes, he is. I honestly don’t know why he wants to be an equal custodial parent, other than the child support would be set lower. He doesn’t actually want Abby living with him full-time. It makes no sense. I think he’s just being mean about the whole thing. Luckily, my attorney is working pro bono but I have to be extra careful with my money right now in case Andrew wins. That’ll mean less money for me and Abby to live on.”
Kristen shook her head in disgust. “Men! But don’t worry. We’ll think of something to help you. We can’t have that grouchy old hermit coming over here complaining.”
Lisa smiled. “We?”
“Of course. It’s the weekend. There must be something the neighborhood can do to help you. Leave it to me. We’ll come up with something.”
***
By Sunday, Kristen had organized the entire neighborhood. Soon, a parade of wheelbarrows carrying rocks of all shapes and sizes began making their way to Lisa’s house. Ryan, James, and the new neighbor, Matthew Carpenter—who rented the house on the other side of Lisa with his wife, Kaylee, and their one-year-old son, Theodore—were in charge of placing the rocks along the inside of the fence. Lisa supplied the burgers for their cookout and the raw veggies while Kristen brought chips and buns. Mallory brought a tub of ice that held juice boxes, cola, and beer for the grown-ups. Kaylee brought hot dogs and chicken strips for the kids and Debbie, the owner of Deb’s Bridal Shop, who lived on the other side of the Carpenters, brought cake for dessert. Everyone supplied the rocks from their yards—cast off boulders and rocks picked up as the owners had mowed or dug up gardens.
Along with their children, everyone had brought their dogs. Sam was there, seemingly watching over the other dogs to make sure they behaved. Brewster, James’ bulldog, Bailey, and Deb’s little puffball of a dog, Chloe, all ran around the yard with the children. They had set up a couple of blow-up pools without water to use as playpens and filled them with toys. It was a happy group of neighbors enjoying a beautiful fall afternoon.
Lisa watched as the men lined the bigger rocks about two feet in from the fence then used the smaller rocks to fill in. It wasn’t fancy, but it should work. She was thankful for her neighbors who cared enough to help her. She didn’t know too many neighborhoods these days like hers.
As she started up the grill and the women brought out the plates of food to place on it, she smiled. At least now she wouldn’t have to worry about Bailey digging under the fence. And that meant no more hermit from across the street.
***
Avery was sitting at his desk, typing nonstop all Sunday morning, finally focused on his novel. It was due to his editor in thirty days and he’d only just started it. But that wasn’t anything new. He’d written a book in a month before. He could do it again—as long as there weren’t any interruptions.
Early afternoon, he stopped typing as hunger pains gripped him. As he stood to go into the kitchen, he glanced out the window that faced the street. A parade of wheelbarrows filled with rocks were being pushed down the street toward that pesky woman’s house.
“What the hell?”
He watched, mesmerized, as neighbors came and went from her house. A few women were bringing grocery bags filled, he assumed, with food. People were milling around her yard and driveway. But most of the activity seemed to be going on in her backyard.
Avery wrinkled his nose. “Another one of those annoying neighborhood barbeques,” he grumbled. “But what’s up with the rocks?” He strode into his kitchen and grabbed a beer, bread, and lunchmeat out of his fridge. The kitchen had been remodeled before he bought the bungalow, so it was open to the living room with an island as a divider. The new cabinets were white and topped with black granite countertops. More than likely chosen by a woman, he’d thought when he’d first looked at the house. Just like the exterior paint. Light blue with white shutters. Definitely chosen by a woman. Men generally chose darker colors. But despite all that, it had been the right price for that moment, and he’d been in desperate need of a place to live, so he’d purchased it.
As he made his sandwich, he couldn’t help but see the stream of people coming and going. He looked at the pile of mail on the counter. Usually someone placed a cutesy flyer in everyone’s mailbox announcing these neighborhood events. He always balled them up and threw them in the trash. But as he searched through his mail, he didn’t see one.
“I wouldn’t have gone anyway,” he muttered, returning to his sandwich.
Still, it seemed rather impolite for them not to at least invite him.
He found an almost empty bag of chips in the cupboard and placed a handful on his sandwich plate, then took it and his beer to his desk. He didn’t care that the whole neighborhood was having a party without him. He had work to do. After taking a bite of his food and a swig of beer, he returned his attention to the manuscript.
She smiled at him from across the tiny living room, her blue eyes dark with passion. Her long hair fell around her bare shoulders, soft and silky in the flickering candlelight. He’d waited a long time for this moment, the moment when he’d finally be able to cross the space between them and hold her in his arms. As he strode across the space that separated them, he suddenly tripped over the rambunctious dog running right under his feet.
“What?” Avery looked at the paragraph he’d typed. “There’s no dog in my book. And the main character has dark hair, not blond. Sheesh!” Quickly, he backspaced through the unwanted paragraph. What was wrong with him? Every time he sat down to write, his mind was on that woman across the street with the cute kid and runaway dog. She was driving him crazy!
“In more ways than one,” he admitted softly to himself. He turned in his seat and began scarfing down his lunch between swigs of beer. He was mad at himself for waiting so long to finish this novel. He was angry at that annoying dog and the woman who let it wander the streets. But most of all, he was upset with himself for finding her attractive, despite everything. And worst yet, she was married, wasn’t she? He pondered that a moment, trying to picture who her husband was. Nothing came to mind.
“Ugh! I need a life,” he said, and polished off the rest of his food. Sitting back in his chair, he looked around his office: a tiny, square room with nothing personal in it except his computer and a few boxes that held copies of his past novels. There were shelves on the wall, but after a year of living here, he hadn’t bothered to put anything on them. That was true of the whole house. Other than a few pieces of scattered furniture, he’d hardly emptied any of the boxes he’d packed with his belongings.
At thirty-six years old, he felt like he was starting his life all over again.
He’d had a life once. His office used to be large and beautiful, with built-in glass cases for his books and awards, and a large picture window with a lake view. His house had sat on two lush acres with big trees and there’d been a great path around the lake where he could walk with his dog in silence and think about his next book. He’d also had a wife, a dreamy woman with long, black hair and luscious lips who’d thought he was amazing. They’d traveled together, hiked in exotic locations, skied in Aspen, and spent a week every winter at a gorgeous resort in the Bahamas. Their life had been perfect.
Until she’d found a new guy and thrown Avery out. She’d taken everything. The house, half of the money, and even the dog. The dog for Pete’s sake! And then he’d ended up here.
Avery sighed.
He turned back to his computer and reread a few paragraphs to jump-start his writing again. The heroine resembled his ex-wife too much. Maybe that was why he had trouble remembering how she looked. She was one woman he didn’t want to think about. But changing the woman’s appearance wouldn’t help either. It would only remind him of the woman across the street.
“Maybe she should be a redhead,” he mumbled.
Looking up, he saw one of the neighborhood women walking through the tall hedge between her house and the pesky woman’s house—he really should learn her name—and go inside. She returned a minute later with a bottle of ketchup and headed for the backyard.
Yep. They were grilling. “Good for them,” he said sarcastically. He thought about the hole in the tall hedge between their houses. Neighbors must have been going between houses for years for that to be there. He used to have neighbors he liked. Couples who’d drop by for a drink sometimes in the evenings or a group of them would go out for a burger and beer. He and his wife entertained friends quite a bit. But that all ended the day she won the house, the dog, and even the neighbors in the divorce settlement.
No longer in the mood for writing, Avery closed his laptop and stood, stretching his muscles. He also missed his home gym where he’d run on his treadmill or use his Bowflex while watching the sixty-inch flat-screen television. He was getting badly out of shape.
Grabbing a clean flannel shirt to pull on over his T-shirt, he headed outside to take a walk. He figured he’d head to Lake Harriet and follow the path around it. The lake would be peaceful this time of year with the leaves just beginning to turn their fall colors. He could get his mind off his ex-wife, his book, and most of all, the woman across the street.
Chapter Three
Late Tuesday afternoon, Avery decided it was time to give himself a break. For three glorious days, he’d been writing non-stop and the book—while still a little shaky in places—was going along fairly well. It had helped to change the heroine, but the biggest help was not having that rogue dog digging up his yard.
For the first time in a long while, he felt good. He decided he’d get out of the house and drive downtown to his favorite place to eat a delicious burger and fries. He changed into a nice shirt and a pair of jeans and slipped on his favorite pair of black western boots. Then he jumped into his black SUV—the only thing he’d actually been allowed to keep after the divorce—and drove into downtown Minneapolis.
Twenty minutes later, he found a parking space a block away from the bar and walked the rest of the way. When he saw the sign next to the door, he smiled. Gallagher’s Irish Pub. He hadn’t eaten here in over a year and felt joy just looking at it.
Walking inside, he saw the place was only a quarter full since it was still too early for the dinner crowd. He found a table against the back wall and sat on the high stool. After a moment, a dark-haired man with a white rag slung over his shoulder came to the table with a menu.
“Hello there,” the man said. “What can I get you to drink?”
Avery assumed he was the bartender. He’d never seen him in here before. Usually a friendly redheaded woman waited on the tables. “Any local beer you have on tap,” Avery told him. “I like to try new ones.”
The man smiled. “Great. I’ll be back in a sec.”
Avery placed the paperback he’d brought on the table. He figured he could sit back and read while he enjoyed his meal. He loved reading, mostly crime novels, thrillers, or suspense, or anything Stephen King wrote, but he hadn’t had a lot of downtime in a while. He realized that it was humorous that he read novels so different from the romance ones that he wrote. The first novel he’d ever written was a suspense similar to what James Patterson wrote, except no one thought he was an up-and-coming James Patterson, especially the agents he’d sent it to. Next, he’d tried a softer-style suspense that featured a female lead character. That time, an agent saw potential, but not for suspense. “Have you ever thought of writing romance?” the agent had asked him.
“Like Danielle Steel?” he’d asked, skeptically.
“Well, more like Nicholas Sparks,” the agent had said. “You have a writing style that I think would be perfect for that genre. And there’s good money in romance.”
Avery hadn’t been convinced, but he figured it couldn’t hurt. At first, it hadn’t been easy, but then, when he’d met Melissa and fallen completely in love, it was as if the romance faucet had been turned on. Writing love stories that were deep and heartfelt seemed to come easily to him.
But that was then. Now—it was difficult to find any good in love and romance after being broken.
“Here’s your beer,” the man said, bringing him a tall mug. “Hope you like it. It’s a new one we’re trying from a local brewer.”
Avery nodded. He took a sip. It was a bit heavy, but good. “Not too bad,” he said. He ordered his burger and fries, but before the man turned to leave, Avery noticed a brown blob with four legs coming up behind the bartender.
“What is that?” Avery asked, pointing to the creature.
The man looked down, then laughed. “That’s Brewster, my dog. He’s our bar mascot.”
Avery stared at the pug-nosed dog with wrinkles all over it. “A bulldog?”
“Yep.”
“I’ve never seen him in here before,” Avery said.
“I usually take him home at night. He just hangs around here with me during the day.”
Avery squinted. Something about the dog seemed familiar. “I’d swear I’ve seen that dog in my neighborhood. But I suppose they all look the same.”
“Don’t tell Brewster that. He thinks he’s one of a kind,” the man said with a grin. “Where do you live?” When Avery told him the street, the man nodded. “Yep. It’s Brewski you’ve seen. We must be neighbors.” He held out his hand to shake. “James Gallagher.”
“Avery McKinnon.”
“Ah. A good Scottish name,” James said.
“It is. So, you must be the owner?”
“I am,” James said. “The place has been in the family for generations. A couple of years ago I came home and reopened the bar after my father passed.” He stared at Avery. “You know, you do look familiar. I’m surprised we’ve never met. Our neighborhood is so friendly. Everyone knows everybody.”
Avery nearly rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I’ve noticed. To be honest, I keep to myself.”
James’ eyes brightened as though a lightbulb had gone off in his head. “Oh. You’re the hermit across the street,” he said, then laughed.
“What?”
James suddenly looked contrite. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You must be the guy who has to keep bringing Lisa’s dog home. She’s been upset about that.”
Avery frowned. Upset about what? That the dog ran away or that he kept bringing him back? “Well, it is kind of annoying that it keeps digging holes in my yard,” he grumbled.
James smiled. “I’m sure it is, and she feels terrible about it. I think we’ve solved the problem, though, so hopefully Bailey won’t be in your yard again.”
Avery wondered what they’d done to solve the problem, but he didn’t want it to sound like he cared enough to ask. “That’s good.”
“I’ll go put your order in. It’s nice meeting you,” James said. “Maybe I’ll see you around the neighborhood.”
“Yeah. Nice meeting you.” Avery looked down and watched as Brewster followed James back to the bar. Funny looking dog, he thought. But watching Brewster follow his owner brought back memories of his own dog following him on walks around their yard and in the park. He missed Maddie—much more than he missed his ex, Melissa. Maddie was a beautiful five-year-old Irish Setter. He’d trained her himself and she’d been the perfect dog. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why Melissa had fought to keep her—except to hurt him. She’d been the one who wanted the divorce, so why punish him?
