His mind started clicking into gear. He opened the key box and grabbed the key for apartment 311. On his way out the door, he poured a cup of coffee. As he crossed the parking lot, he looked over at the cars parked under the streetlights in front of the first two buildings. It always felt good to know people lived in a building he built. This one, he and Brad had spent two years ripping apart and putting back together. He knew it would have required less work to knock everything down and start fresh, but he personally gained so much satisfaction with every swing of the sledgehammer, every installation of a kitchen counter or cupboard. He hadn’t asked, but he guessed the woman Jon had called about was his assistant in Nashville. Knowing her tiered salary, he chose a first-floor apartment in building three.
He let himself into the freshly painted apartment. The door opened onto a foyer with the door to the laundry room immediately on his left, and the hall closet on his right. He could go right and head to the master bedroom or the doorway to the kitchen. Instead, he walked straight into the living room. They’d stocked it with very simple furniture that lacked any true style or color, giving the resident plenty of room for expression. A gray couch and matching chair sat on the teak hardwood around a coffee table.
He thought he’d have a television installed since she’d lost everything in a tornado. He knew one bedroom held a double bed, and the other was empty. Maybe he’d ask his mom to set up the kitchen for her.
He wouldn’t normally go to this much trouble for a new tenant, but Jon really respected his assistant’s skills and work ethic. As an employee, he considered her a member of the family. The Dixons took care of family.
He took a couple of pictures to send to his mom. On his way out of the apartment, he called her.
“Good morning, son,” she greeted.
“Hi, Mama. Jon’s assistant lost everything in a tornado last night. She’s coming to work for him here, and I have a furnished apartment for her. Can you maybe stock the kitchen and do sheets and stuff? She’s coming with nothing.”
“Of course, I can. I have the whole morning free. Can you get me a key?”
He thought about how much time it would take to get to his parents’ house and then make it to work on a Monday morning through the horrendous Atlanta traffic. Instead, he said, “Brad has a key to my apartment. If he’s still there, you can get it from him. Otherwise, I can leave my door unlocked, and you can get the key off of my counter.”
“Let me check. I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks, Mama. Apartment 311.”
Once he settled that business, he kicked his shoes off and went into the small yard outside the area he used as his apartment. As the sun rose, he got into the starting stance and then performed a series of taekwondo forms. Keeping his mind focused on his body, how his muscles moved, and the perfection of his stance and kicks, he went from the white belt form and progressed up to the third-degree black belt form. It took him just under thirty minutes to go through them all. When he finished, he went back into the beginning stance and started on the judo forms.
Martial arts gave Ken a deep sense of calm and allowed him to stay centered throughout his day. He focused better the mornings he gave his complete attention to the workouts.
He and his brothers had all taken Taekwondo all through middle school and high school. As soon as they achieved black belts, Jon and Brad had just coasted, but he wanted to discover other martial arts. He went on to Judo, got his black belt, and currently had a high Aikido belt as well. His brothers jokingly called him an overachiever, but he knew they respected his skills.
As he finished the last kick, he brought his body back to the starting form and relaxed. His muscles felt loose, and sweat trickled down his back. He rolled his head on his neck and headed into the apartment to take a quick shower.
Ken occasionally still went to his old dojos whenever his instructors needed an extra hand with the younger kids. He enjoyed working with them and seeing them progress through the ranks. His mind wandered to Brad and Valerie and the baby. A warm, loving feeling flowed from his heart, imagining a child that would be a blend of Brad and Valerie. He wondered if he would ever be a father, and unbidden, his mind went back to Daisy.
They had enjoyed an early dinner yesterday before she had to go back to her church. They’d grabbed a bucket of chicken, then went to a park and watched the ducks swim in a pond while they chatted and ate. Ken had kissed her goodbye and promised to call her this morning. He wondered if six-thirty was too early and realized he should have asked.
Ken found dating rituals uncomfortable. He found making small talk more like some kind of torture. He could count on one hand the number of women he had dated. Instead, he found his social contentment with his family, people who understood his stretches of silence and didn’t require chit-chat when unnecessary. Even more than his family, he enjoyed the times he spent alone, no conversation necessary, no one to pull him out of his own head and force unwanted discourse or bothersome social rituals.
But with Daisy, he felt like a whole person. He found that very odd because he had never considered himself incomplete until he shook her hand that day.
With his hair still wet from the shower and his cheeks tingling from aftershave, he sat down with his notebook and made a list of things he needed to accomplish this morning. Using his phone, he wrote a quick email to a friend who worked as a loan officer at a bank and asked him to keep an eye out for a construction foreclosure. His friend had hooked him up a couple of times with houses that construction companies never finished building. With an original investment of way less than the house’s worth, he would finish building it and sell it with a nice profit. Since he could perform most of the work himself, he considered it an easy moneymaking venture. Banks usually just wanted to get back the money they had invested.
If he didn’t hear back from him within a week, he would go ahead and plan to move into one of the empty apartments. He had plenty of options.
After he showered and ate some breakfast, he checked the time again. It was seven-ten. He could probably get away with texting. Ken found that rather ironic because he personally hated texting. He just didn’t want to disturb her with an actual call too early.
Good morning. Thinking of you. Wasn’t sure if it was too early to call, but I wanted to say hello.
After he grabbed his coffee cup and keys, he headed out the door. His mom had texted and had Brad’s key, so he locked the door behind him. With a full day ahead of him, he had a feeling that the paperwork portion would take much longer because of this sudden inability to focus currently happening to his mind. Before he got out of the parking lot, he got a text back.
Good morning. I’m an early riser. I’ve been up for hours.
A grin covered his face, and he actually laughed out loud. If he sat down and wrote out the perfect woman’s exact qualifications for him, someone who ran a charity that helped people, loved Jesus, and an early riser would pretty much top his list. He looked up at the roof of his truck and said, “Thank You, God. I love seeing You work.”
Tryingto ignore the overwhelming smell of flowers, Daisy leaned against the counter of her cousin Camila’s flower shop. While Camila put together a dozen pink roses with baby’s breath into a glass vase, she closed her eyes and took a deep floral-scented breath. Drawing from some inner courage, she announced, “I’m pregnant.”
Camila stopped moving. She looked at Daisy with wide brown eyes, her mouth partially open, and then finally asked, “I beg your pardon?”
Daisy nodded. “Pregnant. According to the Internet, I’m due February twenty-sixth.” Suddenly, sharp tears filled her eyes. “Oh Lord, what have I done?”
Camila rushed around the counter and pulled Daisy into her arms. “Oh, Daisy, I’m so sorry. What can I do?” She patted her on the back and then asked, “Is it Jason’s?”
