Sean's Reckoning - By Sherryl Woods Page 0,60

found the address, Sean was relieved to see that the building was an old brownstone. It wasn’t especially well kept, but from the outside at least, it didn’t look like a fire hazard. That was something in its favor.

Kevin, however, was regarding it with a doubtful expression. “Mom, it’s kinda ugly,” he said hesitantly, still clinging to Deanna’s hand.

“That’s cosmetic,” she said. “It doesn’t matter, as long as it’s clean and the pipes don’t leak.”

Sean frowned. “You might want to raise your standards just a little to include a lack of drafts. Boston winters can get pretty cold.”

She scowled right back at him. “The real estate agent said she’d meet us inside,” she said, entering the unsecured foyer and starting to climb the stairs. “The apartment’s on the top floor.”

“Great,” Sean said. “It’ll give us a chance to see if the roof leaks.”

Ruby barely managed to smother a chuckle as Deanna whirled around to glare at them. “You two want to wait outside?”

“Not a chance,” Sean said, staying right on her heels.

The door to one third-floor apartment was open, so they trooped inside. The real estate agent greeted them and began a spiel that would have sold Sean on the place had he not been standing in the middle of the dreary, cramped rooms. She assured them that the water stains were the result of now-corrected leaks. Ditto, the buckling wood floors near the windows. She didn’t seem to have an explanation for the grimy state of the ancient kitchen appliances, but Deanna dragged in her new favorite word—cosmetic—to dismiss the problem.

The two bedrooms were tiny, but they did have tall windows that might actually let in a fair amount of light once years of grime were washed away. The bathroom had a sink with rust stains and a claw-footed tub that had lost a good bit of its porcelain glaze.

It was, in Sean’s opinion, fairly awful, but Deanna was determined to see it with rose-colored glasses. The price was right and it would be hers.

“I’ll take it,” she said, even as the rest of them, Kevin included, choked back dismayed protests. She looked at each of them pointedly. “And I don’t want to hear one single negative word from any of you.”

Sean knew he and Ruby had no one to blame but themselves for kicking Deanna’s independent streak into high gear. Nothing short of the roof caving in on their heads before she signed the papers would have stopped her.

The real estate agent beamed as Deanna signed the lease and handed over a check. The agent’s day was obviously off to a rip-roaring start, if she could unload this dump before eight o’clock.

Seeing the defiant jut to Deanna’s chin as she paid the woman and accepted her copy of the one-year lease, Sean forced a smile. “So, darlin’, when do you want us over here to paint?”

She seemed completely flustered by the offer. “I don’t expect—”

“Name the time.” He’d taken just about as much of her independence as he could handle for one morning.

“Saturday morning.”

He nodded. He might not be able to keep her from moving herself and her son into this dive, but he could make damn sure it was livable before she did.

“What color paint do you want?” he asked.

“I’ll get the paint,” she said.

His scowl deepened. “What color?”

Apparently she finally realized that she’d pushed him as far as she could push him. “Pale yellow for the living room walls, blue for the bedrooms. White woodwork.”

Sean nodded as he jotted it down. “Got it.”

“I think I should at least come with you,” she said. “In my experience men aren’t all that reliable when it comes to picking out paint colors.”

“Did you just insult my taste?” he inquired.

“Uh-oh,” Ruby said. “Kevin, I think you and I ought to wait outside.”

Kevin regarded her blankly. “How come?”

“Because your mother and Sean are about to have a discussion.”

The boy’s brow knit worriedly. “You mean a fight?”

Sean winked at him. “No big deal. Your mom just doesn’t seem to respect my eye for color.”

“Huh?”

“Go with Ruby. We’ll be down in a minute.” After they’d gone, he turned and faced Deanna. “You could accept my help graciously, you know.”

“It’s not your help I’m worried about. It’s the color scheme I’m likely to end up with. I’d feel better if I had a say.”

“You feel that way about a lot of things, don’t you?”

“Because, in my experience, men aren’t that reliable.”

“Are we talking paint now, or in general?”

She regarded him with an unflinching look.