The Perfect Hope Read Online Free PDF Page A

volley of details. Inspections, permits, material orders and deliveries, rough-ins, finals, shop work, site work.
    Ryder kept it all in his head as well, just maybe not as precisely columned and tallied as Owen. But he knew what had to be done and when, which men to assign to which job, and how long the steps should take. On the inside, and—given the vagaries of construction—the outside.
    “Mom’s looking at equipment,” Beckett put in when Owen paused. “You know, treadmills and cross-trainers and all that happy shit.”
    “I’m not going to think about that.” Ryder looked around. Crap walls, he thought, crap floors. Just crap. Cross-trainers and dumbbells and freaking yoga mats were a hell of a long way off.
    “We may want to think about the parking lot.”
    Now Ryder’s eyes narrowed on Owen. “What about the parking lot?”
    “Now that we’ve got it all, instead of patching we should tear the bitch up, level it, add drains, resurface.”
    “Hell.” He wanted to object, just on general principles, but they needed the damn drainage. “Fine. But I’m not thinking about that now either.”
    “What are you thinking about?”
    Rather than answer, Ryder just walked out.
    “Is he bitchier than usual?” Owen wondered.
    “Hard to tell.” Beckett looked down at the drawings again. “It’s going to be a pain in the ass—and mostly in his—but it’s going to work.”
    “Ugliest building in town.”
    “Yeah, it wins that prize. The good news is anything we do’s an improvement. As soon as the Dumpster gets here, we can—”
    He broke off as Ryder came in with a sledgehammer and a crowbar.
    “Get your own,” Ryder told them and, setting the crowbar aside, chose a wall at random. Swung away. The hard, undeniably satisfying
thwack
send drywall chips flying.
    “The Dumpster . . . ” Owen began.
    “It’s on its way isn’t it?” Putting his back into it, Ryder swung again. “According to the holy word of your sacred schedule.”
    “We should bring in some of the crew,” Beckett considered.
    “Why should they have all the fun?” When the sledgehammer arced again, D.A. crawled under the sawhorses for a nap.
    “He’s got a point.” Beckett glanced at Owen, got a shrug and grin. “We ought to start on the second floor.”
    “This one’s not load-bearing.” Another couple swings and Ryder had the flimsy interior wall in rubble. “But yeah.” He leaned on the hammer, grinned back at his brothers. “Let’s gut this bitch.”

    AFTER A FEW days of listening to bangs and crashes, Hope’s curiosity won. With Carolee on duty—the honeymooners were now into their fourth day of their wedding-night stay—she crossed the lot toward the newest Montgomery family project. She had a legitimate reason for seeking them out, but could admit her primary motive was curiosity.
    She’d heard plenty of banging throughout the day, and every glance out the window showed her some grubby guy hauling debris out, and into a huge green Dumpster.
    A text from Avery netted her the intel that demolition had begun on the projected fitness center.
    She wanted to see for herself.
    The banging booms increased as she approached, and she heard a burst of manic male laughter through the open windows. Grinding, guitar-heavy rock rolled out with it.
    She walked up to the side entrance—what was left of it—peeked in.
    Her eyes widened.
    She’d never been in the building, but she’d looked in the windows, and she was pretty sure there’d been walls, and ceilings.
    Now barely a skeleton remained, along with the tangled wire intestines and massive amounts of gray dust.
    Cautious now as the thuds, thumps, and bangs seemed to shake the entire structure, she went around to the front.
    The door stood open. To air it out? she wondered. Who knew?
    Another door, one that led up to what had been second-level apartments, stood open as well. Music, men, bangs echoed down.
    She considered the narrow stairs, the grimy stairwell,