"Why Jason?"
"Because my grandparents had two kids – my mom and her brother. But my mom's brother – my Uncle Chet – he died like five years ago."
"And?"
"And Jason – being Chet's only kid – ended up with Chet's half."
"What about you?" Brody said. "What'd you end up with?"
"Nothing." I hesitated. "Actually, that's not quite true. After my grandma passed away, my grandpa gave me all of her baking supplies, even her mixer, which was a really big deal. The thing cost a fortune." Realizing who I was talking to, I added, "Well, in relative terms, anyway. It wouldn't have seemed like that much money to you, for example."
I shook my head. "But forget the mixer. The cost wasn’t important. It was just that she loved it so much, so I loved it, too." I smiled at the memory. "And then, there were the cookie sheets, and the cookie cutters, and her favorite mixing bowls. They're all in storage now, but when I get settled someplace, I'm going to put them in my own kitchen, and carry on the traditions, you know?"
Was I rambling?
I felt like I was rambling.
And now, in the quiet kitchen, there was something in Brody's gaze that was making me feel nearly naked – and not in a sexual way. In a low voice, he said, "Go on."
"Anyway, back to the house. My mom didn't love it the way I did. And neither did Jason, which is probably part of the reason he sold it."
To you.
But I didn't say that last part, because the subject of Brody's ownership had been beaten to death already.
No need to give it a few more whacks, right?
Brody studied my face. "But a minute ago, you said that you owned part of it."
"Not just part of it," I said. "Half. It's sort of complicated."
"Hey, I've got all night."
Oddly enough, I believed him. During the past couple of weeks, there'd been plenty of nights we'd stayed up late talking, sometimes well past midnight. On those nights, we'd talked not only about the house, but about other things, too.
Even so, we'd discussed nothing quite this serious.
As far as the house, I wasn't quite sure how to explain how I'd come to lose it. The story was so stupidly embarrassing, because I'd been such an idiot, and the thought of confessing my mistakes – to Brody of all people – was not my idea of a good time.
But he looked so sincere that I continued, anyway. "Alright. The thing is, when my mom inherited her half, she didn't want it."
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"All she wanted was the money. And Jason? He didn't want the house either."
"But you did."
With an embarrassed laugh, I said, "Gee, how could you tell?"
At this, he looked almost ready to smile. "Call it a hunch."
"Anyway, my grandparents weren't what you'd call wealthy. But they were really good with money, and the house was completely paid off, which meant that when they died, there was no mortgage or anything. This meant there were no payments except for the taxes and the upkeep. So after the reading of my grandpa's will, I beg my mom – and no, not on my knees, in case you're wondering—"
"I wasn't."
Heat flooded my face. "Sorry. Bad joke."
"You weren't joking." Brody's voice softened. "We both know that. But that's alright. I get it."
Did he? I wasn't sure. Still, I continued. "The point is, I literally beg her to hang on to her half of the house, so I can buy it from her – and Jason's half, too, after I graduate from college."
Recalling my initial optimism, I explained, "You see, by this time, I've got only a couple of years left until college graduation, so it's not that awful long. But when I ask my mom for the favor, do you know what she tells me?"
"What?"
"She tells me that I should let it go." A bitter scoff escaped my lips. "As if the place means nothing. And besides, she tells me, she wants her money now, not in a couple of years. And then, when I push the issue, she claims she's doing me a favor by selling it."
"To Jason, you mean?"
If only.
I shook my head. "Actually, she and Jason were both going to sell it. They had a realtor lined up and everything."
"So what happened?" Brody asked.
"So by then, I already know that my mom won't listen. But Jason, he's a little more reasonable."
"He can't be too reasonable," Brody said, "if he sold the place out from under you."
Well, there was that.
Still, I kept on going. "So I beg Jason to buy out my mom's half. I explain to him that it won't even be that hard, because he already owns half of the house on his own. So he'd just need a mortgage for the other half, and not even a big one, payment wise, because he's got plenty of equity, and…" My words trailed off as I remembered where this was going.
My story didn't have a happy ending.
Brody's gaze locked on mine. "And…?"
Oh, screw it. "And besides, it won't be Jason making the payments."
Chapter 39
Brody
What the hell?
I knew what she was getting at. But the question had to be asked. "So who would be making the payments?"
She winced. "You can't guess?"
Shit. "You?"
She nodded. "Right. And it's not just the payments either. There was the money for taxes and repairs—"
"Repairs?" I said. "You're joking, right?"
"Well, yeah," she said. "I mean, no. I'm not joking. And yes, I do realize that Jason didn't actually make them." Under her breath, she added, "Now, anyway."
"And you never checked?"
"At the time?" With obvious reluctance, she replied, "No, actually."
I didn't get it. Arden was no slacker. And she sure as hell wasn't stupid. I asked, "Why not?"
"Because I was always so
