Blueprints

by Barbara Delinsky

  Fiona’s was back in Williston, and Caroline wouldn’t have wanted to go there anyway. Seeming to know that she needed anonymity even before she pushed huge sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose, Dean led her to a sandwich place not far from the site. He waited until they were seated, with the wood wings of the booth back shielding them from other diners. Then he waited again, until after they ordered, before he said, “I was kidding about the Botox.”

  “I know.” They might bicker, but he wasn’t malicious. “It just touched a raw nerve.” Sitting back in the booth with her head against the wood, she considered his mottled green eyes, dark hair, and burnished skin. He was the image of honed energy and health. By comparison, she felt positively ancient. “It’s like you’ve been gone a year.”

  Those eyes grew puzzled. “Why am I sensing something else going on?”

  Perhaps because he knew her better than most and could read her too well, she realized, and gave a self-deprecating shrug. “It doesn’t matter. It’s silly to even be talking about in the same breath as two deaths.”

  “Spill it, Caro. Nothing you care about is silly to me.”

  “You’re sweet.”

  “I’m serious.”

  Knowing that he was, she nearly teared up again. Before that could happen, she said, “As of fall, I’m out as the host of Gut It! Jamie’s the new host.” He flinched, but didn’t speak. Clinging to the steadiness of his gaze, she told him about her meeting with Claire. She was still watching him closely when she finished. “You don’t seem surprised.”

  “That they want younger?” A sound of disgust came from the back of his throat. “I read, I see, I hear. It’s happening everywhere. I’m not happy that it happened here. To you.” His eyes rose to the server who brought their sandwiches, roast beef for him, shrimp salad for her. Once they were alone again, he picked up half of his sandwich and considered it, then considered her in the same puzzled way. “Are you sure Jamie was involved in the decision?”

  “No. All I know is that she knew before I did and had ample opportunity to tell me but did not, and that makes me uncomfortable.”

  “Uncomfortable?”

  “Like she was hiding it because she agrees with the decision but knew that I would not.” Having removed the bread from her sandwich, she waved a fork. “Roy’s death has kind of taken over right now. Jamie’s going through so much. I know she needs me, but at odd times, I feel a twisting inside.” She mimed the motion with her fork.

  “Anger?”

  “Hurt.”

  “You need to talk with her.” He opened the bag of chips on his plate and crunched one. When it was gone, he said, “You used to tell me to do that with my ex.”

  “And you used to say it wasn’t easy.” Caroline sighed. “You were right.” She had always heard him out, then rebutted his arguments with a certain insistence. Now that the tables were turned, it struck her that she hadn’t fully grasped the emotions involved. “I’m doing what I can to help her. My heart wants to do more, but my mind fights it.”

  “Your mind is going through a lot.”

  Where to begin on that? She felt betrayed, sad, and worried, and those emotions had to do solely with Jamie. Add the age issue, which had dredged up feelings she thought were long buried, and Roy’s death and Theo’s fragility, and she was hopelessly mired.

  They ate in silence until Dean ran a napkin over his mouth. “Will she opt out of hosting the show because of Tad?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. This is new ground for Jamie.”

  “What about Brad?”

  “New ground for him, too. He wants her to do the show. She says she won’t because of me, but if she says no and they threaten to cancel—”

  “You could sue.”

  “How can I do that? It would only hurt Jamie.” She set down her fork, studied her lunch and then Dean. “I love my job, but I love my daughter, too.” Retrieving the fork, she ate another piece of shrimp.

  “What’s wrong with your bread?” he asked.

  “Nothing. I just don’t need two pieces.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since I’m sitting around like a sack of potatoes that hasn’t worked in almost a week.”

  “Like you’re getting fat? You’ve lost weight, Caroline. How’s the hand?”

  Lost weight meant looking haggard, a dismaying thought there. “Fine,” she snapped.

  “Spare me the fight, and save it for Claire. You must be furious at her.”

  “Absolutely. And at Roy, like that’ll get me far.” She scooped a forkful of shrimp salad off the plate and in her mouth. Talking around the food, as if that would gentle the words, she said, “And then I come back to Jamie again. She may not have known what Claire was up to, but there’s been a whole lot of girlfriend time between the two of them. Shouldn’t she have seen where Claire was headed?”

  “Not if she didn’t want to see. Is the decision irrevocable? No changing their minds?”

  “Claire said not, but that was before Roy died.” She had probably said the words “Roy died” dozens of times in the last two days, and still they shocked her. It wasn’t that she loved Roy. There were times she wondered if she ever had. But he was still the father of her daughter, and his death was out of the blue. It was going to take some getting used to. “The problem is that they need to know soon. We can put them off out of respect for Roy, but they won’t wait forever.”

  Nor could Caroline. There was a slew of prep that she always did in the months leading up to taping, and promo for the station was the least of it. She had to get to know the homeowners, so that they were comfortable with each other. She had to get to know abutting neighbors, who would be physically close to the work. She had to get to know the town well enough to give viewers a feel for the location, and had to work through house plans with Dean and the other specialists.

  If she wasn’t hosting the show, these things wouldn’t be her responsibility. They would be Jamie’s. Like Jamie had time for all that?

  “Aren’t you eating those chips?” Dean asked, but when she pushed the bag across, he didn’t rush to open it. “You like chips.”

  She shrugged. “I’m not real hungry.”

  “Well, there’s a convenient excuse for every anorexic woman. Not real hungry.”

  “I have never been anorexic.”

  “Not yet, but I know what you’re doing. Roy did a job on you about the age thing. So now Claire Howe is saying the TV show needs younger, and you’re thinking you’re too old, too wrinkled, too fat—”

  “Please,” Caroline cut in, “this isn’t the time.”

  He settled back and finished eating.

  She might have done the same, if too old, too wrinkled, too fat hadn’t continued to echo. “But I’m right to feel some of that,” she insisted. “You can joke as much as you want, but I do have more wrinkles than I did ten years ago. I may not be heavier, but my shape has changed, and my voice isn’t as rich. I know these things.” Every woman of an age did. Changes like these came with menopause, which she had gone through several years before, though she wasn’t saying that to Dean. In her few instances of big-time public sweat, she had been able to blame hot weather. Fortunately, her hot flashes had eased up. “But I didn’t expect I’d be axed because of them. I thought it was my personality that viewers liked.”

  “They like all of it.”

  “Apparently not.”

  “Claire’s full of shit.”

  “Maybe, but she and Brian get to decide, and their decision is to go with Jamie. So where does that leave me? I like hosting the show. I feel so…” She searched for the word. “So whole when I’m there.” Once started, the thoughts spilled. “I didn’t plan it, didn’t even realize it was happening, but suddenly when someone tells me I’m off the job, I realize how much store I put in it. It’s become my identity. If that’s gone, where am I?” She closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips to the tight spot between them. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be carrying on. Roy and Jessic
a are dead, which makes my problems petty, y’know?”

  “Don’t apologize,” he grumbled. “What, are you supposed to be a robot and not feel things? You didn’t ask for this.” Grabbing the check, he dug his wallet from his jeans. “Let’s get outta here.”

  Leaving him at the cash register, Caroline went outside. When he joined her, she said, “Don’t be angry at me.”

  “I’m not. I’m angry at them.” He put his hands on his hips and glared at the street. “This is a stupid decision. The only thing it has to do with is sex.”

  “What does sex have to do with the show?”

  “Sex has to do with everything. It’s right fucking there all the time.”

  Caroline was appalled. “Well, isn’t that a macho remark. Women don’t think that way.” Shoving her sunglasses on, she set off past sidewalk tables that held the overflow of lunch.

  “Not Claire?” Dean goaded, keeping pace.

  “No. She just resents my place on the set. She hates it that the crew looks to me before they listen to her. If sex appeal is the bottom line here, it’s coming either from advertisers or the media. They’re the ones who stoke this.” When they passed a table where a woman was reading, she muttered out of the corner of her mouth, “And there you go, a perfect example of the ultimate hype. Can you imagine picking up something with the title Legs? If I see one more person reading that book, I’ll scream. Since when is eroticism considered literature?” she asked and answered, “Since the media latched on to those books. I mean, talk about a whole load of hot air.” Tossing Dean a quelling look, she huffed, “Sex is so overrated.”

  He eyed her strangely. Then, turning on his heel, he headed back to the table where the woman was reading and ducked his head to see the cover of her book.

  Caroline could not believe him. Mortified, she cut diagonally across the sidewalk to her truck and was grabbing the door handle when he joined her. She fully expected another macho remark. When it didn’t come, she homed in on his face. He wasn’t exactly amused, wasn’t exactly startled, though there were elements of each. In the aftermath, his eyes held a dare.

  “What?” she asked, impatient.

  “I could prove you wrong. About sex.”

  She pulled the door open and drawled, “Sure you could.”

  “I could.”

  With a foot on the running board, she looked back. “How?” It wasn’t a question so much as a drawled yeah, right, but he held her gaze and slowly lowered his eyes to her mouth.

  Not what she’d expected.

  Head jerking back in alarm, she pointed a finger at herself. He nodded.

  “Oh no.” She waved a hand and backed away. “No no no. I did not see that nod.” Angry that he would think to raise something so wrong at such a wrong time, she climbed into the truck and tugged at the door.

  He stood in the way. “You asked.”

  “Not. Appropriate. We’re planning a funeral here, Dean.”

  “I’m not saying it has to be now. It’s just part of the other discussion.”

  “How can you even raise it now?”

  “Maybe because I’m a man. And because I’d rather think about life than death. And because I do think you’re sexy.”

  “We work together. We’re friends, not lovers.” She tugged at the door. “Move, Dean.” When he didn’t budge, she gave him a testy look. “Don’t you think that if there was an attraction between us we’d have felt it long ago?” Lord knew, they had spent enough time together, and not only for work. There had been hours at dinners, on front steps, or in pickups talking about Dean’s failing marriage, his fear for his son, Caroline’s concerns about Jamie, her frustration with Roy. Dean had walked her through her parents’ death. But this?

  He looked hurt. “You don’t find me attractive?”

  “You’re very attractive, but that doesn’t mean we should sleep together—and anyway, this is so not the time to talk about sex. Roy is dead, Jamie’s distraught, and Theo’s as needy as I’ve ever seen him, meaning I have one hour before I have to be back there, and since the funeral is tomorrow and I don’t own anything black, I need to shop.”

  * * *

  What Caroline bought that afternoon and wore to the funeral Wednesday was a black flared skirt and peplum jacket with an ivory tank. She couldn’t recall the last time she had worn a skirt, and since this one barely hit her knees, she wore sheer black stockings with pumps. The heels weren’t terribly high. Still, she thought the outfit was stylish and young, which hadn’t been the point at all, but the alternatives? Matronly, every one.

  “You look amazing,” Dean whispered as soon as they were seated at the church. Theo, Jamie and Brad, and others of the immediate families were in front of them, and the pews behind were filling quickly.

  Keeping her eyes on Jamie’s tense shoulders, she whispered, “I suppose amazing is better than sexy.”

  “If I’d said that, what would you have done?”

  “Moved to a different pew.”

  “Right.” He waited a few seconds before murmuring under his breath. “Trust me, though. That outfit’s a slam dunk. It’s good for Brian and Claire to see.”

  Caroline felt a twinge of unease. “Are they both here?” She had figured Brian might be, since he was the one who had worked closely with Roy, but she wasn’t in any frame of mind to see Claire.

  Dean nodded.

  She let out a long, low breath, but it barely reached her anxiety. Leaning forward, she gave Jamie’s shoulder a soft little rub. Large eyes in an unnaturally pale face looked back, which only unsettled her more. “Are you okay?”

  The girl shook her head, but the minister rose then, the crowd hushed, and Jamie faced forward before Caroline could say more. Not that there was much to say. Her heart ached for her daughter—and not just because Jamie had to deliver a eulogy or even because she had lost her father. Caroline knew what Jamie faced long-term perhaps more than Jamie did herself, and that knowledge tore at her.

  Motherhood was a lifetime commitment. It didn’t end with a church service or ease up after a month or a year. Tad might be with Jamie’s receptionist again today, but the woman would be back at work tomorrow, along with so many others who had offered to help but would now be resuming their lives. Jamie would be on her own.

  Then again, maybe not. Caroline was likely jaded on this score. Roy had been there for the good times, but show him a dirty diaper, a sneaker reeking of dog poop, or vomit, and he was gone. Jamie had Brad, who would hopefully be a more hands-on father. He was definitely kinder than Roy, more devoted to Jamie than Roy had ever been to Caroline, certainly less ego driven. But good with change? Unfortunately, change was the name of the game right now when it came to Jamie’s life.

  The funeral began. Hymns, readings, even the minister’s words were as uplifting as they could be; still, the weight of tragedy was oppressive, all the more so when Jamie rose to speak. At no point did she blow Roy up into something he had not been, but there was good to be acknowledged—Caroline could admit that—and Jamie spoke from the heart. From time to time, her eyes touched Caroline’s for reassurance, but the reassurance was as much Caroline’s. Being Jamie’s mainstay had been far more a part of her identity than hosting a TV show, which was precisely why she was so bothered by the rift between them.

  She was losing Jamie—and not only to Brad, though his arm was the one that circled her when she returned to her seat, while Caroline’s fingers remained locked in her lap.

  A large hand suddenly covered them, gave a gentle squeeze, and was gone.

  Caroline didn’t react. To look at Dean would have been to give the gesture undue meaning. He had sensed her loss and was trying to help, as simple as that. And he did make her feel less alone. With the warmth of his touch fading, though, it struck her that she hadn’t been actually physically held by a man in anything but a perfunctory way in a long, long time. She shared hugs and linked arms often with Jamie and female friends. But with men? No. With men it was all about being profess
ional. For Caroline, who had to work with them daily, it was about being asexual.

  She might have dwelt on the necessity of that if the church service hadn’t drawn to a close and the trip to the cemetery begun. She drove alone and, dreading what was to come, climbed the knoll to the graveside. This was the part that always bothered her most, the finality of lowering a body into the ground and then leaving it to the cold and dark, and turning away. And what had the minister said, that the focus of death had to be on living? Caroline wasn’t able to do that as she stood in the crowd with Annie Ahl and her husband. She didn’t see Dean again until she started down the hill, at which point she was too disheartened to do more than glance his way. She had to do more, though, when she reached the road and Brian and Claire approached.

  There were the obligatory cheek brushes and words of sympathy. Then Brian said, “Caroline, about what Claire told you…” He paused.

  Not the best time to discuss this, Caroline wanted to say. But she needed to hear what he had to say. “Go on.”

  “I don’t want hard feelings.”

  She considered that … considered everything she wanted to say in response … considered the time and place … and held her tongue.

  Not so Dean. She hadn’t seen him approach, but there he was, a solid presence by her shoulder. “You could rescind the change.”

  Brian spared him a glance. “It wasn’t a random decision. The reasons behind it are very real. We’ve already started spreading the word.”

  “You could say you changed your mind. This is a dumb move, Brian. Caroline is the show.”

  “Are you saying Jamie can’t do the job?” Claire asked, putting him on the spot with Caroline right there.

  He smiled. “Nope. Not saying that at all. She can easily do the job. What I’m saying is that viewers will be expecting Caroline. When they don’t get her, they may be upset.”

  “We’ll ease Jamie in gradually. Caroline will still be there.”

  “What if I’m not?” Caroline asked. She hadn’t planned to, but with Dean’s warmth at her shoulder and his antagonism toward Claire on display, she felt bold.

  “Are you saying that if you’re not the host, you’re gone?”