"It's only small, but it's serviceable. It still has power and water."
The kid rushed inside and exclaimed in glee. I saw her through a window bounce on one of the beds.
"What's her name?" I asked her mother.
"She's Brooke and I'm Mary."
"Tom." I replied and offered my hand.
"Is this for real? You're not trying to pull anything?"
"Nope. Get yourself sorted and we'll talk about rent. In cash." I added with emphasis. "And handed her the keys to her new 'castle'.
In truth, I expected them to be there for just a few weeks. Mary had another waitressing job within the week, and we negotiated a rent that was a fraction of regular apartment rents. As we agreed on it, I had the sinking feeling that I'd just put a millstone around my neck. There was little chance they'd move on if they could live here so cheaply.
I discovered Mary liked to drink, and I was worried about Brooke, but it wasn't my place to get involved. I tried to collect the rent from her when she was sober, as when drunk, she hinted she'd be prepared to pay in kind. When she said it, I ignored the comment and tried to ignore the amount of cleavage she displayed.
A guy in his forties still has a man's needs and with my wife's illness, it had been a long time since I'd been with a woman. But I certainly wasn't going down that route. It felt like it was only one step away from using a hooker.
Despite her filthy language, Brooke turned out to be a sweet kid most of the time. As she grew older, she and Mary would argue and I'd often found her stomping through the woods, swearing about how unfair life was. On those occasions, I'd give her a hug and a kiss on the top of her head. Telling her things get better.
Mary seemed to struggle to keep down a job, but would usually find another without too much delay.
I remember one stormy night; I was sitting up, just watching the flames in the fire. There was a thumping on the front door. I opened it to see Brooke, wet from the rain and looking scared. It turned out that Mary was out on a date and she'd left Brooke alone, and afraid of the storm.
I took her in, wrapped her in a warm blanket and went off to make us hot chocolate. When I returned, she was curled up on the rug in front of the fire, asleep. In the morning, Mary came frantically knocking on my door and saying that Brooke was missing. When Brooke ran through from the kitchen, Mary eyed me with suspicion. But Brooke put paid to that and laid a heavy guilt trip on her mother. The pair left, and things went back to normal.
When Brooke was 14, she got into trouble at school and was suspended for a week. Her mother was furious, less for what Brooke had done, but that Brooke would be lying around the trailer for a week. As Brooke wasn't very scholastic, in Mary's mind, that sounded like a reward instead of a punishment.
I suggested Brooke should use the time to clean my house from top to bottom. That way, I could keep my eye on her and make sure she wasn't up to mischief. That earned me a pouty teenage scowl from Brooke, but Mary liked the idea. And once Brooke discovered that I'd wired a sound system that allowed her to play her music loud in any room of the house. The cleaning became less of a chore.
My home office was up under the room and reasonably well insulated against the music. But the sound reminded me of when I'd first moved in here with my wife. We'd play our music loud and run around the house naked. Christening each room and stick of furniture be copulated in or on it. She'd been so young and beautiful. I shed a tear and swore about some fictitious pollen that had gotten to my eye.
When I went downstairs for a drink, Brooke instantly turned down the music and apologised. Then asked what was wrong. I explained how the music had reminded me of my wife. But once I started talking, I didn't seem able to stop. I'd not talked about my wife to anyone since her death, and the words kept pouring from my mouth.
How we'd met and fallen in love. The fun times together and our kids. When I got to her illness, I shed more tears and stopped. Brooke hugged me and told me it would get better. I laughed at the phrase I'd used on her so many times and pulled myself together.
At the end of the week, I was impressed that Brooke had worked so hard. I kept the house tidy, but my cleaning was rather cursory. Some rooms in the house I'd hardly ever go into, so the dust had accumulated. With it gone, I finally noticed it.
A few weeks later, Brooke came to me asking a favour. In return for her doing some cleaning for me, she wanted to use my living room. She'd started learning yoga with her friends and needed space to practise. The trailer was too small to do it, so I agreed. I gave her a key on the strict understanding that she didn't let her mother know about it.
Mary hadn't given up on the idea of bedding me. Hoping I'd turn into some sort of sugar daddy, I thought. And I wouldn't put it past her for me to come home to discover her naked in my bed. That sort of temptation I didn't want to test my willpower on. Since we'd met, she'd gained weight around her belly, but she was still attractive.
I built a hot tub in the woods about 50 yards uphill from my place and you heated the water with a wood-burning stove. Which meant you had to decide a good 6 hours before you want to use it to light the fire. I'd fitted an array of solar panels to charge batteries that ran the lights and the jets. You could get 15 minutes from the jets before the power gave out. Enough time for me, but Mary and Brooke pleaded to be allowed to use it as well.
I agreed on certain provisos. They had to do their share of ferrying the wood for the fire from the log store at the back of the house. And that they don't use all the power for the jets. Brooke certainly fulfilled the first condition, as I'd see her running up and down the low steps to the tub dozens of times with logs in her arms.
The second proviso they seemed incapable of understanding. Because they preferred the water hotter than me, they would use it first, then tamp down the fire and I'd use it later. Often I'd get 30 seconds of jets before it cut out. Rather than having an argument about it, I fitted more solar cells and batteries.
What I'd not considered, and I should have, was the hot tub gave Mary extra opportunities to tempt me. The steps to the tub went from my back door and my bedroom window overlooked them. You couldn't quite see up to the tub, but you could see most of the steps. Mary would often be seen wearing a skimpy bikini to and from the tub.
I'd be lying if I said I'd not thought of sampling her body, but I held back. I think I did it because of Brooke as much as anything. There was no way Mary or I would become an item. And I didn't want it to be awkward for Brooke to feel stuck in the middle if Mary and I fell out.
Of course, time marched on. More than once, I was confronted with Brooke or Brooke and several friends doing yoga in my lounge. Having teenage girls contorting in skin tight clothing around the house put a strain on my celibacy. I got the impression a couple of her friends sensed that and played it up for me.
Not long after Brooke's sixteenth birthday, Mary came knocking on my door late at night. Naturally, she'd been drinking and was extremely worried that Brooke was hours past her curfew on a date. I was surprised to hear she was dating, but I should have guessed.
She'd blossomed into a beautiful young woman. Her dark hair just touched her shoulders, and she stood several inches taller than her mother. I chided myself for having noticed, but her bust was a little larger than her mother's, as well. Hardly surprising, a young man would pay attention.
Mary had been trying to phone Brooke, but she wasn't answering. So she was worried. I grabbed my keys and told her to go and wait at the trailer, in case Brooke came home. She could call me to stop me driving all over town all night.
However, I found Brooke about 1/2 a mile from home limping along the side of the road in the dark. She looked so relieved to see me and gratefully climbed into my car. Her now ex-boyfriend had been a jerk and dumped her in the middle of nowhere. Her phone's battery died after she used the torch on the back to get home.
I pointed out that if she'd called me, I could have got her, and she swore under her breath as she realised. There was alcohol on her breath and I hoped she'd not turn out like her mother.
It was impossible not to hear the argument between mother and daughter as I went into the house.
A short time later, Brooke walked into the house and asked if I had any ice. Her ankle was worse than she thought. I wrapped the ice in a cloth and applied it to her ankle. Trying not to notice how short her skirt was. I made her our usual hot chocolates and asked what had happened.
She snuggled up to me on the sofa and stared into the fire before answering.
"We were on a date and he was being a jerk. He demanded that I suck him off."
I stiffened and felt very awkward.
"I know I told you that you could talk to me about anything, but that might be a little much."
"What, I'd have done it if he'd not been such a tool about it. It's not like I've not done it before."
"Brooke!" I said, and she twisted around to look at me.
"Come on, did you think I was a virgin? I mean, looking like I do, and having a mother like mine."
