TUESDAY TALES - PICTURE PROMPT - "RENOVATING THE BILLIONAIRE" continues! #romance #billionaire

Welcome! This week I continue with another installment of "Renovating the Billionaire." Thanks for stopping by. Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales. 

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   Afraid to camp outside the old house, Jess sat cross-legged by the hedge on the side. There was a truck in the driveway and two men stood on the gravel, talking. She could barely hear snatches of their conversation.

   “Not worth it,” one said.

   “His funeral,” the other one replied.

   The men laughed, then approached the back door. She held her breath as they went inside. Were they looking the place over to demolish it? They couldn’t do that. She’d see to it that the old house survived.

   Something in her life had to go right. Since her mother killed her father, life had been one giant tornado, tossing her and her little brother, Will, this way and that. If she were being honest, she’d admit that her life had always been in turmoil. Her mother had simply changed the game, the focus, and eliminated one villain, only to supply another one –want.

   It was ten years ago, and she hadn’t stopped paying for it since. Up at sunrise to bake pies and cakes to sell to restaurants and cafés, Jess would finish her deliveries by ten, then hustle over to Itchy Redmond’s house. She’d make breakfast for the old man, help him with his mail and housework, then prepare lunch.

   After lunch, it was time to head to Martha Stover’s. She’d draw a bath, cook dinner, chat with the old woman while she knitted, and clean her humble home. By five, she’d return to her tiny apartment. After making dinner for herself and her brother, she’d read for an hour then go to bed.

   At five, it started all over again. Jess made barely enough for the rent and utilities. Will’s spotty carpenter and handyman jobs paid for food and gas. She’d almost stopped dreaming of a better life.

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TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "SOUR" - #romance #billionaire #lovestory

Welcome! It's time for Tuesday Tales. This week we have more of "Renovating the Billionaire." Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales and the wonderful stories there. Thank you for stopping by. 

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Jackson Brody got out of the car. His right-hand-man, Charles, followed. He backed up to get a full view of the old house. His gaze took in the side. The roof, missing a dozen shingles, had a hole in it big enough to fit a golden retriever. The paint on the walls had peeled off ages ago, leaving raw, weathered wood. Every window pane had been broken. Jack figured there would be rocks on the floor of every room. What was it about a window that tempted a boy to throw a rock through it?

The side of the house he faced had outside cellar doors like in “The Wizard of Oz.” The shrubs once hugging the side of the house had grown unruly. Some had grown up to partially cover windows on the first floor. Others had had the good grace to die and turn yellow or brown.

The grass hadn’t been mowed in at least six months, maybe longer. The mansion had gone to seed, as they say. It was a sorry specimen.

“Well, Charles. What’s your take?” Jack scratched his stubbly chin.

“Well, sir. First, we must repair the roof. Fix that hole, add a few shingles. Then the windows. Trim the shrubs and hedges. Not sure if you should paint or simply reside the entire building.”

“And how much would you estimate that would cost?” Jack asked, kicking aside some stones.

“Oh, dear. I have no idea. Probably a lot.”

“Like how much? A hundred grand? Maybe two?”

“Maybe.”

“Then there’s the inside.”

“Of course. Yes.”

“If the outside looks this bad, what do you think the inside looks like?”

Charles covered his eyes with his hand. “I can’t imagine.”

“You want me to renovate?”

“It’s got great bones. What did you want to do?”

“Tear the damn thing down,” Jackson tossed off in a sour tone before heading for the car. 


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Howdy! Welcome to Tuesday Tales. This week we have another snippet from "Renovating the Billionaire." This one is about Jackson Brody, our hero. Scroll down to return to the great stories on Tuesday Tales. 

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Jackson Brody, billionaire inventor and designer, grew restless. He pushed up from his posh leather chair and went to the window.

“Damn it, Charles, I told Aunt Mary to sell that monstrosity years ago!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now she’s gone and the damn thing is mine. I don’t want it. And, from the pictures the real estate agent sent, its falling down, full of holes and reeks of animal pee.”

“Not exactly in the Brody image is it?”

“You can say that again. I want it demolished. Taken down. And thrown in the garbage.”

“You can’t exactly throw a thirty-room house in the trash, sir.”

Brody turned to face his right-hand man. “I can and I will.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Charles said, making a hasty exit.

Jack Brody had spent his summers in that house. Dumped there by parents who made no bones about his birth being a mistake, he’d been taken in by a woman he thought was his spinster aunt. Jack had played there in the woods with the local children, getting filthy, hunting for frogs, and listening to the hoot of a nearby owl at bedtime.

The house had held happy memories, until Mary’s death. Her siblings had cornered Jack, demanding he pay for her burial and set them up in style. He remembered the conversation. 

“Mary took you in. She didn’t have to. You’re no blood relative. Somebody had to look after you,” her brother James had said.

“She was my aunt. I presumed my father’s sister,” Jack replied.

James shook his head. “Nope. She’d been your father’s mistress, until she got too old. Then he ditched her and found a younger playmate.”

Horrified by the truth, Jack rejected her relatives. He’d come to despise the house where he had had so many happy memories as a child. When she died, Mary left the house to Jack. Now it had to go, and with it his family's shame. Then he’d wash his hands of this sordid business forever.

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