Annie had one pair of giant, identical men carrying boxes to a moving van, one set of boy-girl seven-year-old twins helping the boys “pack,” Josie carrying smaller boxes, along with Annie herself, a pair of pregnant women who were allowed by their giant, identical men to lift anything that weighed less than a loaf of bread and nothing else, plus one Izzie MacNamara to supervise everything. Izzie still wasn’t supposed to be lifting anything. She was supposed to be at her apartment in bed, having just been paroled, as she’d put it, that morning.
Into Nikkie Jean and Caine’s custody, as Izzie had put it. No one at the hospital had thought she was ready, but Izzie had insisted. Rafe had gotten involved, reminding everyone that it was Izzie’s right to decide for herself—and then he’d had Jillian push her to the entrance.
Where Caine and his uncle had been waiting. They had effectively abducted her.
Jake had given his full approval, having packed a bag for her and dropped it off at the hospital for Nikkie Jean.
Izzie was grumbling, but Annie knew her friend had been touched by how much everyone cared about her. It just wasn’t easy to show that sometimes.
Caine had insisted that Izzie take care of herself and not overdo it. He had bluntly told Izzie and Annie that he was adopting them as their big brother, and that that meant they had to listen to him when he talked.
Caine had carried Izzie from the car to Annie’s front porch swing as gently as if Izzie were made of glass. Annie fell a bit in love with him herself in that moment. Nikkie Jean was a lucky, lucky, lucky woman, that was for sure.
Nikkie Jean was making more hints about doing a nature-vs-nurture research article on the two almost identically dressed brothers and staring at them like they were bugs under a microscope. Nikkie Jean was needling them now.
They were in her yard, carrying out the couch, when a fancy Lincoln pulled in behind Caine’s huge truck that was currently getting loaded down with the boys’ beds. A Lincoln she recognized. Annie’s breath caught and she actually shivered.
Like an idiot.
Annie’s eyes were drawn to the man when he stepped out of the driver’s seat.
She would recognize him anywhere.
Rafe called out a greeting.
A small woman next to him stepped forward. Annie looked at her fully for the first time. Powell Barratt’s face was printed on real estate signs and billboards all around the county. And Barratt County, as well.
Barratt County was a new start for Annie and her little family. Caine had even offered her a position within the Barratt County emergency department if she wanted to work closer to home. It had better hours by far. With a matching salary to what she currently made and more chances for advancement. A supervisor’s position, eventually. If she earned it. The offer was more than tempting.
After the adoption was final, she was seriously going to consider it.
Barratt County could be the fresh new start Annie wanted for all of them.
Maybe putting Boethe Street and Finley Creek—with the exception of Izzie, Josie, and her friends, anyway—behind her was exactly what Annie needed to do to fully recover from the storm her life had become since the moment her father had been arrested for almost killing her and her mother when she was twelve.
It was something to consider. In the meantime, there was a blue-eyed man looking right at her. Waiting. Annie stepped toward him. “Turner?”
He didn’t exactly feel like he was bearding the lions, but it was close. Everyone, even the two toddlers running circles around Izzie’s feet, had stopped to stare at him and Powell. “I need to speak to you or one of your neighbors regarding an injunction.”
Annie stepped toward him, stopping only to lift her youngest son. She came toward him, a fair-haired toddler riding on her hip. Syrus just blinked at Turner and gave a shy wave. Turner smiled and waved back.
She looked damned beautiful. His fingers curled. Turner wanted to touch. He wouldn’t lie to himself. That was what he wanted most of all. Simply to touch her.
“Why? What’s going?”
“I asked Powell about the letters you and your neighbors received.”
“Basically, the city is trying to low-ball offer for your property, and it is customary to give sixty days’ notice. With the storm damage in this area, ninety days would have been more appropriate. Turner and I believe we can get you a better offer, closer to fair market value, by filing an injunction at this point.”
“And how are we supposed to do that? Wouldn’t this be a conflict of interest for you?”
She looked at him with those eyes of hers that demanded every answer. “It will be for me.”
“But not for me. I’m not invested in the Boethe Street ventures. I tend to avoid this part of town like the plague. Personal history, not so great, but I’m willing to take this on pro bono,” his cousin said, her eyes on Annie. Turner knew she was trying to figure out Annie’s measure. Powell was like that sometimes.
She didn’t like people that much.
Turner sometimes thought they scared her. Not surprising after what had happened to her when she’d been twenty. It had happened not too far from where he stood.
Boethe Street had its reputation, after all.
“Why? What’s in it for you? Excuse me for being so blunt.” Annie’s little buddies, Jillian and Nikkie Jean, stepped up next to her. A silent wall of feminine support. “There has to be a reason.”
“Simple. I hate greedy people. And this is greedy. And dirty. The city has already slashed the budget by allowing twenty-seven original properties to remain for now. They can afford to offer an attractive relocation package for the remaining five. That they aren’t—that’s pure greed. And it concerns me.”
And Powell could be fierce when she thought someone was taking advantage of those less fortunate. Vulnerable.
“I…I can’t fight any longer. I just don’t have the time.”
Solomon wrapped his arm around her leg and glared at Powell. He was the most reserved of Annie’s three boys.
“What about your neighbors? Would one of them be interested in fighting this? They’ve offered bare minimum amounts, Annie. You’re entitled to at least what the property is worth on the market. What they’ve offered you isn’t it.” He’d told her that the night before. But her mind had been made up. She was putting this behind her and getting through. Moving on.
In Barratt County.
“You should fight this,” Turner told her. “I’ll support you in any way that I possibly can.”
She stared at him like she was trying to look deep into his soul.
That’s what it was about her. Annie Gaines caused him to open his soul in ways no other woman ever had. Turner wasn’t sure how a man like him was supposed to deal with that. “Annie, just...don’t give up.”
“I’m not. I’m being realistic,” she said firmly. “I have other things to think about besides this house. It’s just walls. The family I love has nothing to do with walls holding us in. This...this is my family behind me. And my friends.” A car pulled in across the road. Annie stopped speaking to watch the elderly couple climb out. A look passed over her face that he didn’t understand, especially when the older man waved at her. Annie waved back.
And then she turned back to him. “They have no family at all. That’s Mrs. Henderson. She said she was your fourth-grade teacher, Turner. Gia has no family. The Bennetts don’t, either.”
“I’m sorry.” Ok, now she’d lost him. But he remembered his fourth-grade teacher as being an extremely nice woman, who’d knit every kid in his class mittens for Christmas.
“Someone...needs to fight for them, don’t they?” She looked around, right at the people surrounding her. “I should do this.”
“It’s up to you,” Jillian said.
“We’ll be right beside you no matter what, Ann. You know that,” Nikkie Jean said, a dark-haired toddler tugging at her jeans.
“Then tell me what you have to say.” Annie handed her toddler over to Nikkie Jean. “Please, come inside. Everyone’s going to take a break for lunch soon, anyway. Jillian and Nikkie Jean were demanding lunch.”
“Yum. Jalapenos,” Nikkie Jean said, pretending to nibble on the toddler. “Spicy.”
Annie smiled, but there was sadness coated with determination in her eyes. Something was going on in that head of hers. Turner wished he knew what.
Turner wanted to make it all go away. He wanted to be her hero, even though he knew that was beyond corny. But it was the truth. He wanted to make the world better for her. He followed her into her house like everyone else, practically lined up like ducks. Even Powell bobbed along behind him.
Annie’s house was far too small for this amount of people.
With all the boxes now on their way out the door, and half the furniture already loaded, he was able to see that the house was shabbier than he’d noticed the first time. But it was clean. Just old. Worn.
But it smelled like her—vanilla and warmth. Comforting.
There were framed photos still on her wall. Her, her sister, the children. Nikkie Jean. Izzie.
Izzie, who he’d passed on the porch on his way in.
The last thing he wanted was for Annie to lose her home. Or the money she’d invested in it. There had to be a way to fix this. A way to just pick up her house and put it someplace else.
Turner froze as it sank in.
Move the houses. Buildings could be moved. They were moved all the time. He would do it. Even if he had to swallow the cost himself. The last thing he wanted was for Annie to lose her home.
He looked at Powell. She would know the specifics of what he would need to do. And how quickly he could make it happen. But first...they had to talk to Annie about getting fair market value for her home now. Just in case Turner couldn’t make this harebrained idea work.