It was someone I instantly recognized, someone who'd been avoiding me for way too long.
But it wasn't Brody.
It was my cousin Jason.
Finally.
When I flung open the door, he greeted me with a sheepish grin. "So, how's it going?"
I stared, dumbfounded. "Is that a serious question?"
Jason was tall and thin with wavy brown hair. Tonight, he was wearing gray slacks and a white button-down dress-shirt. He looked slightly rumpled and sleepy-eyed.
Ignoring my attitude, he said, "So, can I come in?"
With a sound of annoyance, I opened the door wider and stepped out of his way, figuring it was better to kill him in the living room rather than outside on the front porch, where there might be witnesses.
As he shuffled inside, I said, "And just where have you been, anyway?"
Without meeting my gaze, he mumbled, "Around."
I shut the door and got straight to the point. "So what happened with the house?"
"Uh…." He shifted from foot to foot. "Which house?"
Oh, for God's sake. "You know which one." Still, I jerked a thumb vaguely toward the house across the street. "That one. Remember?" I made air quotes. "The ol' family homestead?"
He frowned. "I don't suppose you've got any snacks?"
Already I felt like throttling him. "Snacks? Seriously?"
"Sorry, but I'm starving," he said. "I've been sitting in the car for hours."
I didn't get it. "What car?"
He jerked his head toward the left side of the house. "I parked down the street."
"Why?" I asked.
"So I wouldn't get caught."
"By who?"
"Anyone," he said. "Do you know I've been driving by here for weeks now?"
"Here? You mean this place?"
He nodded. "Oh yeah. Sometimes I'd even park down the street and wait. One night, I fell asleep in my car." With a grimace, he reached up and rubbed at his shoulder. "Woke up with one hell of crick in my neck. The thing's still sore."
Maybe I should've felt bad for him. But I didn't. I couldn’t, not after that stunt with the house.
I gave him an annoyed look. "If you want me to feel sorry for you, forget it. You totally screwed me over. You know that, right?"
At this, he had the nerve to look insulted. "I did not."
"You did, too," I said. "You took my money and then sold the house out from under me. How is that not screwing me over?"
"Hey, I told you I'd make it right."
During our phone conversation months ago, he had said such a thing. And I might've been inclined to believe him, if only he hadn't been avoiding me ever since.
I crossed my arms. "Oh yeah? How?"
He stood just a little bit straighter. "I brought you something."
When my only reply was a stony look, he reached into the front pocket of his shirt and pulled out a folded check. With a little flourish, he held it out between us. "Here."
Silently, I snatched the check and lifted it for a closer look. It was a personal check made out from Jason to me. The total was for forty-one thousand, two-hundred dollars, and twenty-two cents.
As I tried to process what I was seeing, Jason announced, "It's all of your money. I'm paying you back." Sounding annoyingly smug, he added, "With a nice bonus, too."
I was still staring at the check. A couple of weeks ago, in a fit of pique, I'd actually added up all the money that I'd sent Jason during the past three years. The total came to forty-one thousand, one hundred dollars and twenty-two cents, exactly.
I compared that amount to what I saw on the check. The so-called bonus was for one hundred measly dollars. Okay, a hundred dollars was nothing to sneeze at, but in the big scheme of things, it was hardly worth the grief I'd suffered while working my ass off to keep up with all of the payments and repairs.
Cripes, I'd paid more than a hundred dollars just on credit card interest alone for the groceries I'd had to finance with plastic after sending Jason most of my money.
Not bothering to hide my contempt, I said, "Wow, a hundred bucks, huh? How very generous."
He grinned. "I know, right?"
I sighed. "I was being sarcastic."
His grin faded. "Hey, legally, I didn't have to give you anything."
"That's not true," I told him. "What, you thought I'd just let it go?"
"Well…" He paused. "You wouldn't sue me or anything. I mean, we're family, right?"
It was such a pretty thought. But for all I knew, the check wasn't even good. And Jason hadn't been acting like family at all.
Undaunted, Jason continued. "So it seems to me you'd be at least a little grateful."
"Grateful?" I practically sputtered. "After you lied to me about the house?"
His mouth tightened. "I didn't lie."
"Sure you did."
"About what?"
"Well, for one thing, about the repairs. Just admit it. You didn't repair a darn thing."
He glanced away. "Well…I did some repairs."
"Oh, please," I said. "You did not."
"I did, too."
"Really?" I gave him a no-nonsense look. "Like what?"
"Lots of things," he said. "I even did some of them myself."
Jason and I weren't terribly close, but I'd seen enough of him to know that he barely knew which end of the hammer met the nail. Plus, according to Brody, absolutely nothing in the house had been fixed.
I believed him, too. When it came to construction, Brody definitely knew what he was doing.
But even without Brody's expert opinion, I knew what I'd seen with my own two eyes. Unless I was terribly mistaken, Jason hadn't done a single thing to keep the house from falling down around him, even while hitting me up for all kinds of money.
With a scoff, I said, "Oh yeah? Which repairs?"
"Well, like the shrubs," he said. "I repaired those last year."
Oh, for God's sake. "You don't 'repair' shrubs. You trim them." I didn’t bother pointing out that even if he had trimmed them, he'd done a pretty sorry job, considering that they'd been way overgrown by the time I ever got to them.
When Jason's only response was a sullen look, I asked, "And what about
