Time was, Theo would have done it, and after him Roy. Her own experience had taught her that a male might be more successful talking business with a male, but she didn’t want to involve Brad.
Dean would help. But he wasn’t a MacAfee.
Jamie could do it. But she was both female and young, two strikes against her, and she was a designer, not a salesperson. Not that Caroline was an expert in sales either, and she certainly didn’t have management experience. But who else was there?
The buck stops here.
How often had she thought that when she was raising Jamie, and Roy dropped the ball on one parenting event or the other?
Time didn’t change certain things. Or maybe it did. She was fifty-six. If she could corral the cachet that came with age—the brains, the poise, the guts—she might be able to play the MacAfee champion as she couldn’t have done even ten years before.
She wanted the Weymouth project—wanted it for Jamie, for Theo, for MacAfee Homes. She wanted it for Gut it! And she wanted it for herself. The carpenter in her dreamed of creating some of the effects Jamie had put in her sketches. Add the challenge of winning at her age—of showing all of them what she could do?
In light of recent events, that was suddenly very important to her.
* * *
Caroline actually hesitated before calling Jamie. It was Saturday evening. If she didn’t have plans with Chip and the boys, she would have called Caroline, wouldn’t she have? And Annie’s warning was fresh in her mind’s ear. She may be wanting to do things her way.
But that was personal.
This was business.
Hesitation overridden, she thumbed in the call on her way home from the nail shop. When it went to voice mail, she said, “Hey, baby, sorry to bother you, but something’s just come up. Linda Marshall has the distinct impression that the Barths are working behind the scenes to ink a deal on the Weymouth land before we even have a chance to bid. If we want to beat them to it, we have to act fast. I can coordinate everything except design plans. They’re yours. Give me a call?”
Waiting for the callback, she held the phone palmed against the wheel during the drive home, and though that took barely five minutes, she was impatient. As soon as she pulled into the driveway, she sent a text.
Just left voice mail. Let me know you got it. Kinda urgent.
Fifteen minutes passed. Her phone was balanced on the rim of the sink as she stepped out of the shower when a reply finally came.
This is happening right now?
So Jamie wasn’t pleased with the timing. Well, hell, neither was she. We have to arrange a meeting with the Weymouths for early this week, she typed back. Where do your plans stand?
Long minutes passed. Caroline had a helmet on her head and was about to climb on the Harley behind Dean when she felt a vibration against her thigh. Pulling out the phone, she read, They’re just sketches.
How long before they can be more? she typed back. She didn’t want to pressure Jamie, but she needed something of presentation quality.
The answer came more quickly this time, actually while they were on the road, and though Caroline was anxious to read it, she wasn’t yet comfortable enough on the bike to take one of her arms from Dean’s. The minute he parked at the restaurant, though, she accessed it.
Wednesday, maybe?
Any chance of Tuesday? The Barths are breathing down our necks.
I’ll try.
twenty-three
Sunday dawned warm and heavily overcast, but not even the occasional drizzle could dampen Jamie’s spirits. She refused to think of the promise she had made Caroline and the juggling she would have to do to be ready for a Tuesday presentation, refused to think about how much she wanted that project and feared losing it.
Today was her wedding day. Even the brief text exchange was foggy now, seeming to dissipate along with the mist. By the time they hit the New Hampshire line, the sky held patches of clear, and the sun was positively beaming on the small Colonial inn by the time they pulled up.
As omens went, it was a good one. Jamie vividly recalled the rain on the night her father had died, and suspected thunderstorms would shake her for the rest of her life. But sun, here, now? She chose to believe Roy was smiling, knowing with a heavenly wisdom that her marriage to Chip was right.
The innkeeper was waiting. True to his word, he had the appropriate papers ready to be signed, and within the hour, with Chip and the boys in pressed shirts, shorts, and sandals, and Jamie in a sundress, the ceremony began. The gazebo was woven through with wild roses that matched those in Jamie’s bouquet, and while a violin-cello duo played softly, she and Chip exchanged the simplest, sweetest, most heartfelt of vows.
It barely took five minutes, which was a good thing, since the boys wanted no part of standing still when lush gardens beckoned, but those five minutes were still beautiful and extraordinarily emotional for Jamie. She didn’t know whether it was all that had happened of late, or whether she would have cried at her wedding even if they had waited a year, but her throat was tight and her eyes moist as they held Chip’s, and her heart was filled to overflowing the entire time.
There were pictures taken by Chip’s camera—a sophisticated digital SLR that he proved expert both at using and at telling others how to use. There were toasts with champagne for adults and apple juice for kids, even a dance for the newlyweds. There was an elegant picnic by the brook, with the innkeeper’s wife arranging plates on a fine linen cloth and serving a hearty peasant bread, sliced filet mignon, and an asparagus and endive salad to die for. When the boys balked at the meat, she produced peanut butter sandwiches from her cart. None of them had trouble devouring freshly frosted wedding cupcakes.
They spent the afternoon between the garden, the brook, and the hot tub, and when it was time to head home, there were sandwiches for the car.
Jamie couldn’t imagine a more perfect day. She had roses to press, pictures to frame, and memories to last a lifetime. Most important, she had a husband she adored and who adored her. He was forever lifting her hand to his lips as he drove, forever glancing at her with the same stunned pleasure she felt, forever citing one part or another of their wedding day as being the most special.
The boys fell asleep in the car on the way home, which meant that they were up later than usual into the evening, but Jamie loved even that. And when the house was finally silent, she had Chip. They didn’t have to speak, were of like mind in what they wanted. Their lovemaking was slow and sweet, deeper and more meaningful than ever before.
She fell asleep in his arms and woke up feeling blessed. Eyes wide, she lifted her hand and looked at the ring he had produced in the middle of the ceremony. It was a total surprise; they hadn’t talked rings at all, neither of them needing the physical symbolism. But the emotional one? When Chip was in Boston buying shirts for himself and the boys, he had gone to the Cartier boutique—not that she needed that either, but he had.
Three entwined gold bands, white for friendship, yellow for fidelity, rose for love—he had explained this while slipping the ring on her finger. All three bands were encrusted with diamonds, and though he didn’t say it aloud, she knew he wanted the diamonds he gave her to be totally different from any diamond she had worn before.
“Hey,” he murmured, smiling sleepily when her eyes flew to his.
She smiled back. “Just admiring my ring.” She cupped his jaw. The dark morning stubble made the ring look even more delicate.
“Did we actually do what this ring says we did?” he asked.
“We did. Are you having second thoughts?”
“Not me. You?”
“Nope.”
Grinning, he scooped her close and was about to act on an impressive arousal when the boys trailed in, at which point it seemed more important to make them feel loved. And that was heavenly, too—her adored baby half brother, soon to be her son, tucked up against her with his thumb in his mouth and Moose in his arms, grinning around that thumb as he watc
hed Chip tickle Buddy, who squirmed and contorted.
As an only child in a house that had grown even more quiet after her parents’ divorce, she had always dreamed of having a large family. This, here, now, was what she wanted. She didn’t fear that Chip would tire of her, that Buddy wouldn’t accept her, or that the children she and Chip had in the future wouldn’t be wonderful.
Her only fear was what Caroline was going to say when they showed up at her house that morning.
* * *
Caroline was on the front porch with Champ and her laptop, researching Herschel Oakes’s recent activity, when a Honda SUV turned into her driveway and parked behind Dean’s truck. It was a minute before she realized that it was Jamie with Chip and the boys. Excited, she glanced at her watch. Not yet seven thirty? The implication of that didn’t sound like the caution she had urged for Jamie, but she was so hungry for contact that she was relieved nonetheless.
Closing the laptop, she returned Jamie’s wave, motioned Champ to stay on the porch, and started down the walk. Her eager eyes were first and foremost on Jamie, who was dressed for work, summer chic in a skirt and silk tank, auburn hair daring to curl past her shoulders. She took Tad out of the backseat, shifting him to a hip as Chip and his son rounded the SUV. And how could Caroline not stare at the man? More casual than Jamie in sneakers and jeans, he was also taller and darker, but if looks were the basis of a relationship, her daughter couldn’t have done better. They were a striking couple, a modern couple dressed for different jobs.
Taking his hand, Jamie drew him alongside her, and in that instant Caroline saw beyond a handsome pair to a tight foursome, the quintessential all-American family. Her gut said that there was commitment here, though whether it was infatuation or true feeling she didn’t know. Her gut also said Jamie wasn’t here to talk about the Weymouth land.
They seemed nervous. But so, in her own more mature and experienced way, was Caroline. Anything Jamie was committed to, whether brief or long-term, mattered to her.
Meeting them at the head of the walk, she smiled and extended a hand to Chip. “I’m Caroline. I’m sure our paths have crossed at some point.”
His handshake was firm. “Charlie Kobik. I’m honored. You’ve raised an amazing daughter.”
“I think so,” Caroline said in faint warning that Jamie was hers, would always be hers, and that Charlie Kobik could go by whatever name he chose, but it wouldn’t change Jamie’s parentage.
Lowering Tad to the ground, Jamie said a breathless “Mom—”
She had never been breathless where Brad was concerned, yet here it was again. Unsure of the meaning of that, Caroline bought time by dropping to a knee. “Hey, Tad,” she said and was pleased that the child didn’t resist when she drew him close. She reached out to Buddy. “You must be this handsome man’s son. I’m Caroline, Jamie’s mom.”
“Where da cat?” Tad asked.
“You have a cat?” Buddy asked.
“Three,” Caroline admitted.
“Mom—”
Caroline rose with a hand on each boy’s head and her eyes on Chip. “I’m not one for formality. Do you mind if I’m on a first-name basis with your son?”
“I’d like that.”
“Mom,” Jamie demanded with too much force to be further denied, and held out her left hand. The fact that it was shaking gave Caroline a feeling of déjà vu. Last time, the ring finger had been bare. This time it was not.
Meaning? Caroline wondered uneasily. Three days after breaking her engagement to one man, her heretofore prudent daughter was engaged to another?
“We got married,” Jamie said, visibly holding her breath.
Caroline’s eyes flew from the ring to Jamie and Chip. Neither was laughing, winking, or taking it back, and there was nothing remotely bogus about the diamonds in those three entwined rings. She didn’t have to be a jewelry buff to recognize the design. It was stunning, high end, and authentic.
But married? After knowing each other, what, half a day? And … and without a word to her mother?
Jamie wouldn’t do that. They were more than mother and daughter. They were best friends.
“Where da cat?” Tad repeated, standing inches in front of Caroline, looking up at her.
“Uh, oh, sweetie, he’s inside. Upstairs, actually. I believe he’s sleeping.” She didn’t know for sure. Having ceded the front porch to Champ, Master could easily be hiding in the parlor, waiting to attack when the dog invaded that space, too. Whatever, Caroline couldn’t let anyone in the house, certainly not to the second floor.
“Is there a ball in the car?” Jamie softly asked Chip, who immediately loped off. Her eyes followed. Caroline couldn’t miss the way they clung, seeming to take strength from just looking at him.
But still, marriage after knowing each other such a short time?
Chip returned with two kickballs, rolled them off across the grass, and leaned over the boys, who took off seconds later. As Jamie’s vigilant eyes followed, Caroline struggled to find words, but she didn’t know where to begin.
Helplessly, she listened as Jamie listed the arguments against what she and Chip had done, preempting Caroline’s raising them, but insisting that their marriage was right, that they loved each other and the boys, and that, believe it or not, Mom, she knew Chip better in this short time than she had known Brad in four years.
Caroline could believe it. She had never been able to open to Brad, in part because he hadn’t opened to her. Charlie Kobik looked like a different sort, stronger and more dynamic, but either of those traits could have a dark side.
She was thinking he might have somehow enthralled Jamie, forcing her to act in a way she would never have done on her own, when he said in too normal and sensible a voice, “For what it’s worth, my parents will be as shocked as you are. They’ll have heard of Jamie, but they’ll be upset that they’ve never met her, and they’ll be hurt not to have been included in the wedding. I apologize to you, and I’ll apologize to them. I know this is sudden, but I know my own heart. I also know what I want in a family, because I grew up in a good one. Jamie’s the first woman I’ve ever been with who wants the same thing. I love her, Caroline. She’s it for me.”
Caroline fought liking him, but the words resonated. His family had an outstanding reputation in Williston—which she knew how? Quickly she remembered. When Chip made a mess of his hockey career, the buzz around town had been what a shock it was, given his parents’ goodness.
Did that make him the black sheep with emotional problems?
Champ had come off the porch, apparently as impervious to Caroline’s authority as Jamie, and was eying the kickballs. Tad inched away. Buddy simply froze.
“He’ll want to play,” Caroline called gently. “Try rolling him the ball.”
“Why is the dog here?” Jamie asked. “Why is Dean here so early? I thought he wasn’t a morning person. Is he working in the garage?”
Caroline could not go into that. When Chip trotted toward the boys to show them how to befriend the dog, she turned to Jamie. “I’m just stunned, baby.” Her voice was hushed. “I never expected you’d run off to get married. When did this happen?” There weren’t many choices, but she needed to know.
“Yesterday, at an inn in New Hampshire.”
More pain. “You knew you were doing this when we texted Saturday night?”
“We had just decided, like a few hours before. The innkeeper is a justice of the peace, and there was a beautiful gazebo covered with roses. His nieces played violin and cello, and his wife served a picnic lunch.”
Something felt familiar to Caroline. She gasped. Dean. Hadn’t he said they could avoid a wedding? That there were elopement packages? Had he put them up to this?
But no. That thought was nearly as preposterous as the one saying her daughter had just gotten married.
Needing a visual—something, anything, to make the unreal more real—she asked in an aching whisper, “What did you wear?”
“My pink s
undress.”
“From J. Crew?”
“It’s my favorite.”
Yes. Caroline knew that. The dress was adorable. “But we were going to shop for a gorgeous gown. You wanted a big white wedding.”
“Not me, Mom. Brad, Dad, and Theo. Did you want that for me?”
“I only wanted what you wanted.”
“Which is Chip,” she pleaded softly. “I love him, Mom. He’s everything I could have asked for.”
Caroline told herself that Jamie was a good judge of people. But all she could think was that her only daughter was now legally tied to a man she had known for too short a time, that marriage was hard enough without this kind of rush, and that Roy would die if he knew.
Which was a ridiculous thought, of course.
Needing to blame him somehow still—Caroline had never set this kind of example for her daughter, had agonized for years before getting a divorce—she asked in the same hushed voice, “Does this have to do with your father’s death?”
Jamie’s voice was as hushed. “No. Chip and I discussed that, too. I’m telling you, we looked at every angle to find one that would tell us to wait. It wasn’t Dad, per se. He and I were close, but he wasn’t my best friend.” You were, her eyes said, but the compliment stung.
“If I was the close one, how could you not tell me what you planned? How could you keep the most important thing in your life a secret? We talked Friday, and you said nothing. We talked Saturday night, and you said nothing. You could have come over any time in between, and you didn’t. I could have kept a secret, Jamie.”
“I know that, Mom, but I knew you’d tell me not to, and I didn’t want anything spoiling my joy. I love Chip. I want to be with him.”
“Couldn’t you just live together to make sure it would work? Couples do that all the time.”
“We could have,” Jamie conceded. “But we know it will work. There’s no question. Plus, we have kids. We didn’t want anything tentative for them, and Tad, especially, has gone through so much. He needs permanency.”
Blueprints Page 31