top.
“I’ve been trying to reach the older Mr. O’Malley for two weeks. There’s a leak in the ceiling, my kitchen sink is backed up, and I’m still hearing the pitter-patter of little feet at night. You can tell him if he doesn’t do something about it today , I’m calling the housing authority. I have a child living in that apartment.”
“I’ll be up after lunch. Will that do?”
Primed for a fight, she seemed unprepared for his easy capitulation. “Fine.” She turned and stalked down the hallway to the stairs.
Brandon bent his head around the doorframe to watch her go. “ Mmm , mmm, mmm , that is one saucy lady.”
“That’s one cranky lady,” Dennis said from behind him.
Brandon turned to his father. “It’s okay, Da. You can come out now. I took care of the scary girl for you.”
“Shut up.”
“Who is she?”
“I told you, the tenant from hell. Thank God she’s your problem now.”
“What’s her name ?”
“Daphne Van something. I have it written down at home next to the forty-six messages she’s left me in the last two weeks.”
“Why did you ignore her? She said she’s got a kid. That’s not like you.”
“She yells at me.”
That did it. Brandon threw his head back and roared with laughter.
“What the hell is so funny?” Dennis asked, insulted.
When Brandon finally caught his breath, he wiped the tears but not the smile off his face. Damn, it was good to be home. “Six-foot-four-inch Dennis O’Malley. Scared of a girl. I never thought I’d live to see the day.”
“I was going to buy you lunch, but the hell with you,” Dennis huffed, pushing past his son and out the door.
Brandon followed him. “I’ll let you buy me lunch because you’re getting my slave labor at this place, so it’s the least you can do. And now that I know you’re scared of one of the girl tenants, my price just went up.”
“You have your laughs, sonny boy, but we’ll see who’s laughing when you’ve been dealing with that woman for a week or two. Yes, we’ll just see who’s laughing then.”
Chapter 11, Day 31
Brandon was tightening the final bolt under Daphne’s sink when her keys jangled in the door. He heard her speaking in a low, controlled tone to a young child, and he decided to stay put until they discovered him. Lying flat on his back, he watched small, pudgy hands pull off bright red sneakers and drop them with a clunk onto the wood floor.
He’d been pleasantly surprised to find the third-floor apartment to be warm and inviting, in definite contrast to his first impression of the woman who lived here. The furniture wasn’t expensive, but it was cozy. Lampshades with beaded fringe, colorful throw pillows, and bright yellow paint gave the living room a cheerful atmosphere. Candles sat on every surface along with a dozen framed photographs, but since he felt like an intruder, he hadn’t stopped to study them. Toys were piled in one corner and an art easel occupied another. Clearly, the child who lived here was the center of his or her mother’s life.
“Mike!” Daphne said. “Put those wet sneakers on the mat. You’re making puddles on the floor.”
Lighten up, Mom , Brandon thought. Boys will be boys . After the sneakers landed again—hopefully this time where they belonged—he heard little feet running in his direction, saw denim-clad legs come into the kitchen, and laughed when they came to a dead stop.
“ MOM! ” the child shrieked. “A man lost his legs in our kitchen!”
Daphne came running in. “Come out of there,” she said in the same firm tone she’d used to handle the dripping sneakers. “Right now.”
Brandon slid out from under the sink and sat up to find two furious, gorgeous, blonde females—one all grown up and the other just getting started—standing with their hands on their hips and their identical golden brown eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“What’re you doing in my apartment?” they asked in
“I’ve been trying to reach the older Mr. O’Malley for two weeks. There’s a leak in the ceiling, my kitchen sink is backed up, and I’m still hearing the pitter-patter of little feet at night. You can tell him if he doesn’t do something about it today , I’m calling the housing authority. I have a child living in that apartment.”
“I’ll be up after lunch. Will that do?”
Primed for a fight, she seemed unprepared for his easy capitulation. “Fine.” She turned and stalked down the hallway to the stairs.
Brandon bent his head around the doorframe to watch her go. “ Mmm , mmm, mmm , that is one saucy lady.”
“That’s one cranky lady,” Dennis said from behind him.
Brandon turned to his father. “It’s okay, Da. You can come out now. I took care of the scary girl for you.”
“Shut up.”
“Who is she?”
“I told you, the tenant from hell. Thank God she’s your problem now.”
“What’s her name ?”
“Daphne Van something. I have it written down at home next to the forty-six messages she’s left me in the last two weeks.”
“Why did you ignore her? She said she’s got a kid. That’s not like you.”
“She yells at me.”
That did it. Brandon threw his head back and roared with laughter.
“What the hell is so funny?” Dennis asked, insulted.
When Brandon finally caught his breath, he wiped the tears but not the smile off his face. Damn, it was good to be home. “Six-foot-four-inch Dennis O’Malley. Scared of a girl. I never thought I’d live to see the day.”
“I was going to buy you lunch, but the hell with you,” Dennis huffed, pushing past his son and out the door.
Brandon followed him. “I’ll let you buy me lunch because you’re getting my slave labor at this place, so it’s the least you can do. And now that I know you’re scared of one of the girl tenants, my price just went up.”
“You have your laughs, sonny boy, but we’ll see who’s laughing when you’ve been dealing with that woman for a week or two. Yes, we’ll just see who’s laughing then.”
Chapter 11, Day 31
Brandon was tightening the final bolt under Daphne’s sink when her keys jangled in the door. He heard her speaking in a low, controlled tone to a young child, and he decided to stay put until they discovered him. Lying flat on his back, he watched small, pudgy hands pull off bright red sneakers and drop them with a clunk onto the wood floor.
He’d been pleasantly surprised to find the third-floor apartment to be warm and inviting, in definite contrast to his first impression of the woman who lived here. The furniture wasn’t expensive, but it was cozy. Lampshades with beaded fringe, colorful throw pillows, and bright yellow paint gave the living room a cheerful atmosphere. Candles sat on every surface along with a dozen framed photographs, but since he felt like an intruder, he hadn’t stopped to study them. Toys were piled in one corner and an art easel occupied another. Clearly, the child who lived here was the center of his or her mother’s life.
“Mike!” Daphne said. “Put those wet sneakers on the mat. You’re making puddles on the floor.”
Lighten up, Mom , Brandon thought. Boys will be boys . After the sneakers landed again—hopefully this time where they belonged—he heard little feet running in his direction, saw denim-clad legs come into the kitchen, and laughed when they came to a dead stop.
“ MOM! ” the child shrieked. “A man lost his legs in our kitchen!”
Daphne came running in. “Come out of there,” she said in the same firm tone she’d used to handle the dripping sneakers. “Right now.”
Brandon slid out from under the sink and sat up to find two furious, gorgeous, blonde females—one all grown up and the other just getting started—standing with their hands on their hips and their identical golden brown eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“What’re you doing in my apartment?” they asked in
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