A Dream of His Own. Gail Martin Gaymer

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       “It caught my eye when I first looked at the chart.” He closed the brochure and leaned back. “Let’s go with that.” With Ava and her son still on his mind, Quinn’s concentration wobbled as he talked about the house improvements. He’d thought Sean was demanding at times, but he’d never seen him rude to strangers. Brandon, on the other hand, had been rude.

       Ross jotted notes on his clipboard and straightened his back. “All right, the trim is settled. What about the windows?”

       Windows were the last thing on Quinn’s mind.

       Ross pulled some brochures from his case. “The first decision is the style of windows.”

       Choices? Quinn went blank.

       Ross handed him the information. “Look them over. These are tilt-in windows. No climbing ladders to clean them.” He pointed to a section of the flyer.

       Having just looked out his dirty windows, Quinn peered at the pamphlet while his concentration dueled with the multiple thoughts racing through his mind. He lowered the brochure, deciding to open up to Ross. “Yesterday, I dropped by Ava’s to check on her plumbing.”

       Ross gave him a questioning look.

       “It’s a long story. Anyway while I was there, I noticed how attractive her house is. Too feminine for me, but it’s Ava. Colorful yet cozy. Organized, yet homey. But I never had a chance to ask her about helping with my decor.” He explained the plumbing issue and Brandon’s rudeness. “I didn’t know what to do so I left. I’m not a man who feels inept, but I did. I know she was embarrassed so I decided to leave and end the problem.”

       Ross shook his head. “I doubt if that ended the problem.”

       “What do you mean?”

       “If Brandon is rude to you, then it’s probably happening with his teachers, the principal.” He shrugged. “And rudeness hurts his mother, too.”

       “But my hands were t—”

       “The boy might be uneasy with another male in the house? You mentioned Brandon told you he was the man of the house.”

       Quinn caught his breath. “But the kid knows I’d only met his mother a few days before.”

       Ross looked out the window as if searching for a response in the landscape. Quinn followed his gaze. Two squirrels skittered up a tree and down again. A goldfinch landed on the bird feeder, his bright feathers adding color to the yet drab landscape. Though spring had arrived, it hadn’t notified Royal Oak.

       Ross refocused on Quinn. “Maybe he saw you as a threat.”

       A scowl pulled at Quinn’s face. “You’re kidding.”

       “His mother likes you. Brandon knows how to handle his mother, but he doesn’t know how to handle you.”

       Quinn lost him at “his mother likes you.” “She barely knows me.”

       Ross arched a brow. “I talked with her at the POSK meeting. I know she likes you. Maybe the boy was jealous. You’d be competition for her attention.”

       Needles prickled Quinn’s spine. Competition? Jealous? And Ava liked him. “I don’t want to cause trouble between her and Brandon, and I might if I ask her about helping me with the decorating. I’d thought she’d be a good choice.”

       Ross nodded. “She has the ability. I’m sure she’s available.” He glanced down at his hands. “And she can use the money.”

       “But she’s proud.”

       He nodded. “Working for money is a whole different situation, isn’t it?”

       Quinn threaded his fingers together and rested them on the table. “I should call her then.”

       “I would. She can say no, but I think she’ll say yes.”

       Relaxing his fingers, Quinn pulled his hands apart. “Okay, I will.” The tightness in his shoulders lessened. “Now that I have that settled—” he grinned at Ross “—let’s pick out some windows.” He grasped the brochures again and opened the one on top.

      * * *

       The unbelievable filled Ava’s mind as it had since yesterday when Quinn walked out in the wake of Brandon’s insults. She planned to talk with him after Quinn left, but she thought better of it. She’d never seen Brandon in such a tiff, and she settled on the idea of letting him cool off. But she couldn’t continue to ignore his behavior.

       Today he’d asked to do homework at Mike’s house after school, and though she sometimes questioned whether it was homework or monkey business, she tried to trust her son. He’d been through so much. He’d missed weeks of school, lost his hair, gone through a year of treatments and sickness. Since he was twelve, he’d dealt with the fear of cancer, and finally he’d become a teenager who’d begun to think he had a future.

       Still she was his mother, he needed guidance. Fifteen wasn’t twenty-five. Two years in remission didn’t guarantee a lifetime of good health. That fear laid her low. She needed faith in the doctors and the treatment. Lexie and Kelsey would say she needed faith in God.

       She believed in Him, but her faith had drained with Tom’s miserable scam investment, his sudden death and then Brandon’s diagnosis. She’d talked with God so often with no response and asked Him questions He never answered. She’d begun to wonder if Jesus was only a prophet without almighty power as some claimed. But that was her “devil’s advocate” at work. In her heart, she believed even though she hadn’t been to church for years.

       Maybe it was time to go. With her avoidance, she hadn’t provided Brandon with a good role model of faith, either. She hadn’t really thought of that until now. She’d done him a disservice.

       Her stomach growled, and she wandered into the kitchen, not knowing if she should cook dinner for Brandon, too. Sometimes he was invited to eat at Mike’s. As she opened the refrigerator, the telephone rang. Brandon. Relieved, she closed the door and grabbed the phone. Quinn’s voice washed over her.

       “I hope I’m not calling at a bad time.”

       Though her body belied her response, she assured him it wasn’t.

       “Good.” His voice sounded more positive than it had the last time she’d seen him. “I wonder if you could do me a favor?”

       Her mind whirled. “What kind of favor?”

       “I’m having some refurbishing done on my home, and I recall your interest in decorating so I wanted to elicit your help…sort of your opinion.”

       Helping him was a change. Warmth spread through her. “Opinion about what?”

       “I have no idea what colors work where.” His voice rang with resignation.

       “You want a woman’s view on color schemes?” A grin stole to her mouth.

       “That’s it. The rooms are mainly beige.”

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