The Hero (Thunder Point #3)(23)

“Yeah, I bet old Rawley is just hats and horns all the time,” Ray Anne said.

Devon laughed. “He’s actually a gem.”

“Talks your ear off, does he?”

“One-on-one, he has plenty to say,” Devon said. “And he promises we’re not in his way and that we can stay as long as we like, but I think Rawley would like having his house back. Even though we’re comfortable there, I’d like to be closer to Dr. Grant’s practice and Gabriella. In fact, just about every street in town is close enough to be able to walk to and from work—that would be so nice. I just don’t have much money. Do you ever come across a room for rent? Or a garage apartment? Maybe furnished? Or anything like that?”

“Not often. But I’ll put the word out. What can you afford?”

She shook her head. “So little,” she said. “A few hundred?”

Ray Anne said, “Whew. That’s going to limit the possibilities.”

“I have no furniture,” Devon said. And rather than explain how she’d been living, she simply said, “I left everything behind, just so I could get out.”

“Hmm, I did that once,” Ray Anne said. “My first husband. I was young, he was a real ass with a drinking problem and I needed to get that behind me. I asked for nothing—I just signed everything and ran for my life. I had to start over. It wasn’t easy but, once I was on my feet, everything was mine.”

Devon was quiet for a minute. Then she said, “First husband?”

“I had three of them. The first one was a drunk, the second was much older and more stable, and he was controlling to the point of being abusive, and the last? Twenty years older than I was and cheating with every young thing he could round up. He had a lot of money so all the girls in their twenties were lining up to give him a go. But, after the first marriage, I never left with nothing again. I figured out a few things. Now I at least have a nest egg.”

“Wow,” Devon said. “Just when you think you’re the only one in the world who had lousy luck with men...”

That made Ray Anne laugh. “Well, don’t believe everything you hear, but I’ve also had some good luck here and there. Maybe it didn’t pan out to be happily-ever-after in the white picket fence ideal, but I had good times with good fellas. So—how’d you get hooked up with Mr. Louse?”

“Oh, that,” she said. “I might as well have been wearing a sign that said, ‘Hi, my name is Devon and I have nothing, no family and my self-esteem is at its lowest ever.’”

“That’ll do it,” Ray Anne said.

Then, in the second week in July Ray Anne called Devon and said, “There’s a duplex at the end of Sarah’s street. It’s for rent. It’s small—only two bedrooms. And I’ll warn you right now—it needs a lot of love. But it’s only four-fifty a month. And everything in it works—appliances, wiring, plumbing. I might be able to talk the landlord into a few improvements, but he’s stubborn. He just wants to forget it’s there, which is why I handle the rental for him.”

“I want to see it,” Devon said instantly.

The duplex was located on one of the higher elevation streets in Thunder Point. The street itself was a bit of a mixed bag with a few large homes along with many that were small and old. Some of the properties were pristine and fussy while others had been left to ruin. The duplex, unfortunately, was one of the latter. There were weeds in the yard, cracked and broken sidewalks and the place had a neglected air about it. There was a broken-down overhang at the front of the house and the view from there was beautiful—Devon could see the entire bay and the mountains beyond. There was a speck off in the distance—that would be Cooper’s place.

“That’s a little scary,” Devon said, pointing to the overhang.

“One of the things I think I could get repaired, if only to avoid a lawsuit.”

If the outside looked bad, the inside was a disaster. Trash, peeling paint, holes in the walls—mostly from doorknobs that hit the walls when the doors had been swung wide. A few walls showed signs of suspicious holes—as if someone had thrown something or punched them. “Who lived here?” Devon asked.

“Four nineteen-year-old boys who had to be evicted. Mr. Dunwoody—and the neighbors—would like a quieter tenant next time around.”

“And who lives on the other side?”

“Mrs. Marissa Bledsoe, an elderly widow, a little on the weak and wobbly side. She can’t handle much in the way of upkeep, but she’s pleasant and good-natured.”

Devon looked at the filth, the scarred hardwood floors and the chipped and peeling paint. The place even had a bit of a smell to it, of what, she wasn’t sure. The bathroom was a horror—there was a shower curtain that was disgusting and the tub and tiles were filthy. The toilet was older than she was, and there was a large chip in the porcelain tub.

The kitchen was almost as bad. Fortunately the newest item was the refrigerator and since the electricity had been left on, it was only dirty. Nothing had been left to rot.

Behind her Ray Anne was saying, “I know you left your things behind but I can help you find inexpensive secondhand items. Once the floors are scrubbed clean, they’ll be safe, but you’ll need area rugs—this place gets pretty chilly in winter.”