“No. It’s about organizing my thoughts. I’m learning from you.”
Jamie felt an oppressive fatigue edge back. “Maybe you shouldn’t. I am so in trouble. Is there any way we can postpone the presentation?”
“We can. But do we have to?”
“I’ll show you my stuff. It’s awful.”
“It isn’t,” Samantha put in, approaching them. “It’s not bad.”
“Not bad won’t get us a deal.”
“It’s impressive,” Samantha told Caroline, who glanced at her watch.
“We still have a full day before the meeting.”
“I have no computer, two sick kids, and a mind of mush.”
“We’re here to help,” Caroline said so gently that Jamie choked up again. “First, you need sleep.” She smoothed a tendril of hair from Jamie’s cheek, leaving her hand there. “Until gorgeous Dean gets us some power, you can do that.”
“But Tad—”
“I’ll take Tad.” Caroline offered her arms.
Jamie was about to say that he was caught between Mamie and Mommy and probably wouldn’t go to her when he held out his little arms and went. That easily, he settled in against Caroline, who patted Jamie’s cheek and pointed upstairs.
* * *
Caroline should have been nervous. She wasn’t used to deadlines. A carpenter didn’t have rigid ones, or maybe her clients were forgiving, or she was simply always ahead. Same with Gut It! Not so business administration, with a progression of appointments that led from one into the other with a domino effect. Yet here she was, digging Popsicles from her son-in-law’s freezer, and she wouldn’t be anywhere else. If Tad’s coming to her like that didn’t melt her heart, nothing would. She didn’t even care if Roy was cringing. It wasn’t about revenge anymore. She felt good doing this.
She actually felt so good that nothing would slow her down. Seeking out Chip had been a win-win move. In helping Jamie, she was helping herself. She needed to be needed. She was needed here. He had said that, as had the look of relief on Jamie’s sweet, tired face.
Caroline could do power loss. She could do sick kids. This was where experience paid off.
And Samantha? Well, Samantha was interesting. She wasn’t meek or resentful about taking Caroline’s help, actually welcomed it, which made Caroline wonder whether the small bulge at her middle was from an affinity for hot fudge sundaes with whipped cream, or something alive. Caroline wasn’t about to ask—had made that awful mistake more than once in her life. And really, did it matter right here, right now whether Samantha was pregnant? No. She seemed as clueless as Jamie about what to feed a child who had been throwing up. At Caroline’s direction, she searched the freezer until she found a second box of Popsicles and then fixed dry toast, and when Caroline asked if Chip had a little swimming pool, she rummaged around in the garage until she found one.
The pool was a godsend. Water from the outside tap was tepid in the heat, actually perfect for keeping little bodies just cool enough. Once in it, the boys perked up, and while Caroline stayed close, especially to Tad, who was the younger and the less experienced of the two, they were surprisingly adept in the water. Neither was old enough to play with the other for long. Rather, they splashed randomly, or filled and dumped the plastic containers Caroline had found in the kitchen. When she gave them straws, they blew bubbles for a time.
Samantha brought her a lawn chair. “You’re dressed too nicely to be on your knees.”
Caroline had to laugh. “I’ve been on my knees all my life.”
“Not when you’re on TV. I watched several episodes last night. You’re good. Both of you.”
It was a golden opportunity. Caroline couldn’t resist. Deliberately speculative, she asked, “So, when you were watching, did it bother you that I’m old?”
“You’re not old.”
“Old enough to be your mother.”
“My mother is old. You are not.”
Caroline didn’t know Samantha’s mother, but the woman had to be close to her own age. “Why do I want to tell you to be kind?”
Samantha studied the boys for a minute before raising her eyes again. “Because you’re right. I’m just … dealing with something.” With a little breath, she left it. “I look at you on that show, and you’re not old. You lead. I expect my leader to be older than I am.”
The remark was validating. “Thank you. You put that well. I’m dealing with something right now, too.” Taking Samantha’s arm, she urged her into the chair. “Watch the boys for a couple of minutes while I make some calls? I need to delay a few meetings.”
“You can go to your meetings. I’ll help Jamie.”
But it wasn’t only Jamie. A month ago, Caroline had been a mother and friend. Now she was also a mother-in-law, grandmother, and significant other. The newness of it all had her feeling her way along, but she rather liked the purpose. “I want to be here, too. My meetings will hold a few hours.”
* * *
She called Dean first, just to hear his voice. Buoyed by that and by the knowledge that he was on his way, she called Theo. He listened while she explained where she was, sympathetic only to a point before asking when she would be in. She called Fred, who said he would stay at the bank as late as she needed. She called Dana, who bowed out entirely, which was fine, since Caroline was only including her as a formality. Linda was Team Caro, and it was Linda she called next. Once she had a feel for the Realtor’s schedule, she called Brad to reset a time for the three of them to meet.
* * *
Having temporarily ceded responsibility for her life to Caroline, Jamie fell into an immediate deep sleep. She was so far out of it that she had no idea what was on her cheek until she brushed it and found lips.
Chip.
She inhaled. Eyes still closed, she wound her arms around his neck and hummed her pleasure. In the next second, the heat registered and she remembered why she was in bed in broad daylight. Her eyes flew open. “Omigod.” She listened. “Silence is not good.”
Chip smiled. “We’re minutes from cool.”
“The power company came through?” she asked with cautious hope.
“Dean did. He’s out back with two experts hooking up a generator.”
Dean. Caroline. Gorgeous rushed back. “He gave Mom a ring, Chip. She swears they’re not engaged, but I think it’s the fifty-something version of that.” His hair was sticking up, his skin tanned and moist, which reminded her where he was supposed to be. “Why are you here?”
“School ended at noon. The kids left, so I left.”
“What about teachers’ meetings this afternoon?”
“They’ll live without me. I need to be here. Your mom can’t stay all day. Her meetings are important.”
Mention of those caused a tightening in her gut. “She and I have to talk. She needs to see what I’ve done before she goes ahead with all that.” Jamie tried to get up, but his torso was angled over her in a way that prevented escape. “Chip,” she protested, but he was studying her face, playing with wayward strands of hair.
“You are so pretty.”
“I’m a mess.” But even a little sleep had taken the edge off. Prolonging the escape just a bit longer, she touched his mouth. “How are the boys?”
“Better,” he breathed against her fingers. “Your mom has them drinking warm Jell-O. They’re asking for cookies.”
“And Samantha?”
“Not asking for cookies, but asking the guys a gazillion questions about the generator. It’s a whole-house one.”
Her hand slid to his neck. “Oh no, Chip. I don’t think so. Whole house ones have to be ordered.”
“I thought that, too, but Dean insisted that MacAfee Homes installs enough of them in new construction to have special access.”
“But whole-house generators take a full day to install.”
Chip’s blue eyes were smug. “Not when you have three guys who know what they’re doing. Dean didn’t see the point of wasting time on a Band-Aid w
hen he could do the full fix.”
“Are you okay with that?” He looked it, but they were treading in new territory.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“This is your house. It should be your decision, not Dean’s.”
He laughed. “Your mom must have been thinking the same thing when she told me it was a wedding gift. Like I mind a generator? Besides, it’s not my house, it’s ours, and I trust your mom’s people.” On cue, a low hum spread through the house. His grin widened. “She’s an amazing woman, Jamie. I like having her here, and it isn’t about child care. It’s about family. My sister may be bossy, but her heart’s in the right place, and your mom is resourceful and calm. She’s one together lady.”
With that, for Jamie, reality returned. “She won’t be once she sees what I haven’t designed.”
* * *
Caroline didn’t know what to expect. She understood that her very professional daughter was shaken. But by the time Jamie had gone through her questions about the land, the marketing decisions she couldn’t make, and the designs she would draw if she only had more time, Caroline was seriously worried.
Standing over Jamie’s shoulder a short time later, she was silent, eyes on the screen as page after page of designs appeared.
When she had seen enough, she said a soft, “You little stinker.”
Jamie raised stricken eyes. “That bad?”
Caroline shot her a punishing look before asking Samantha, who was at Jamie’s other shoulder, “Are they bad?”
“They’re incredible.”
“Incredible,” Caroline confirmed. “The details you added to the manor exterior are simple but have a profound effect. The foyer inside is just detailed enough to show how elegant the entries to the condos might be.” She gestured for Jamie to go back one screen, then another. “What you’ve done with the front drive makes a statement, the carriage houses in back are charming, and this house…” She had to smile. The single new build Jamie had designed looked suspiciously like Dean’s country house might look once the rehab was done. Caroline wouldn’t quite admit the potential to Dean, but there it was. “This house is totally inviting.”
“It has a younger feel than the manor,” Samantha observed. “What demographic are you targeting?”
When Jamie looked to Caroline for the answer, Caroline opened her phone. Seconds later, she connected with Linda, and minutes after that, Linda was headed their way. While they waited, Caroline studied the designs again. Together the three of them had listed a dozen questions by the time the Realtor arrived.
Over the next hour, while Tad napped, Chip watched Buddy, and the house cooled, the four women skimmed over things that they would explore more if the project was theirs, focusing instead on demographics, cost issues, and buyer trends. Beyond that, it was about brainstorming what would work in winning over the Weymouths. By the time Linda left, Jamie knew what she needed to do for tomorrow, which had been Caroline’s goal.
Leaving her to work, Caroline found herself talking with Samantha in the kitchen. “Would you buy a house here?”
“If I could afford it.”
“Would it bother you if other buyers were empty nesters?”
“You mean older?” She popped a Goldfish in her mouth and offered the box to Caroline, who shook her head. “No. I love having older people around. They’re family when family can’t be there.”
“What if they resent the presence of young children?”
“Are you worried the Weymouths will?”
“Maybe.”
“Don’t they have kids?”
“Grown ones.” Even as she said the words, she had her phone out and was calling Herschel Oakes. Minutes later, she had a helpful piece of information. “Between the brothers? Seven grandchildren.”
“Family builds,” Samantha remarked. “That has to be the theme of the pitch.”
Caroline smiled, bemused. “It does. Why didn’t I think of it before?”
“You may be too close to the project, or just not a marketer. But you’re talking a lot of homes here.” She pushed in another Goldfish and talked as she chewed. “Williston was on the outer edge of commuter towns when I was growing up here, but that’s probably changed. The home prices the Realtor mentioned aren’t out of sight for Greater Boston suburbia. Quality-of-life issues here compensate for the commute. Yeah, I’d buy a home here in a minute.” Her eyes stopped blinking as they held Caroline’s. “I’m pregnant.”
And no husband, said that look of defiance. She was daring Caroline to criticize her. Not that Caroline would. She liked Samantha. Her gut said that this was a strong woman who would come to be Jamie’s good friend. Caroline wasn’t about to jeopardize that.
“I was wondering,” she mused.
Samantha touched the bump. “I’m eighteen weeks. My parents don’t know.”
Caroline had an instant reaction to that but bit her tongue. After a moment’s thought, she came at it a different way. “Jamie and I have always been this close.” She held up two fingers. “We hit bumps this month—”
“She said you weren’t talking.”
“We weren’t. There was a lack of honesty—no, a lack of forthrightness. It was hurtful and stupid and counterproductive. The longer it lingered, the more it took on a life of its own. Don’t make the same mistake we did, Samantha.”
“I already have,” she cried in a slightly hysterical way.
“Then correct it soon. This conversation we’re having, you and me? You’ve mentioned family more than once. It’s on your mind.”
Munching on a handful of crackers this time, Samantha considered that. Finally, seeming regretful, she said, “My family was always close. I could really use the emotional support.” She nodded. “Family builds. It’s a good sales slogan. I say that as a slightly impoverished version of your quintessential first-time home buyer.”
Caroline was thinking the girl was correct in that, too. She did represent the younger face of the market. If the slogan appealed to her, it would appeal to three brothers whose children had to be somewhere around Samantha’s age. She was also thinking that someone who was articulate, direct, and had a certain marketing savvy might impress the Weymouths. On impulse, she said, “I’d like you at that meeting. Can you come?”
* * *
If sheer numbers counted, the MacAfee side would have won hands down. Theo led the team, looking debonair in his old-world way. Caroline sat beside him, wearing another of her new outfits, while Dean flanked her, looking ruggedly Dean. Caroline was amazed at how stunningly Jamie presented herself, despite being thoroughly sleep-deprived. Samantha wore a slim-fitting white top over her narrow skirt, a very New York bump-flaunting look that was actually a clever marketing choice, Caroline thought, in that it portrayed MacAfee Homes as totally modern. Granted, Samantha didn’t work for MacAfee Homes. Nor did Chip, who looked sporty and god-awful handsome as he sat in the background, ostensibly present for moral support. Annie Ahl was there. And Linda. And Brad, looking awkward as hell.
Conversely, the Weymouth presence was limited to Ralph videoconferencing from San Francisco, Grant on speakerphone from Santa Fe, and, in the flesh, John the hotshot plastic surgeon who’d had plenty of work done on himself, and Herschel-the-lawyer-with-ties-to-Caroline.
Unfortunately, since the Weymouth brothers owned the land, they held the cards. Seeming disgruntled from the get-go, they had pithy remarks about Jamie’s designs, Linda’s real estate savvy, Samantha’s Family Builds image, and Caroline’s offer. They questioned whether Dean’s green installations were pure gimmick, and whether Annie’s landscaping plans would preserve their mother’s aging dogwoods. Ralph wanted to know why the Barths, who he claimed were about to affiliate with Sotheby’s, wouldn’t be a safer choice, and, by the way, if Theo was still the one in charge, why wasn’t he talking, and what role would he play anyway? John declared that he didn’t want Web marketing, which, he said, might create a conflict for someone Googling his name; Linda explained tha
t any URL would simply include the address, and Samantha, having done her homework that morning, pointed out that nine in ten home buyers used the Web at some point, with 52 percent citing it as their first step.
When they seemed to run low on criticism, Ralph asked Chip why he was there. “If you think your friendship with my son will get you brownie points, think again. You let down your teammates at Harvard and made a mess of your life. I wouldn’t want you involved.”
Chip held up a respectful hand. “I’m just the chauffeur.”
Jamie took exception to that. “He’s my husband. He’s here to support me.”
As much to prevent Jamie from saying something that might anger Frank as to make a protest of her own, Caroline put in a quick “Chip doesn’t work for MacAfee Homes, but if there was a position, I’d hire him in a heartbeat.”
Dean added, “I second that. My subs rave about how he is with their kids.”
“You’re all biased,” Ralph scoffed.
“Actually,” John told his brother, “I just heard the same thing from one of my patients. His kids go to Emory Elementary.”
That touched off a bout of arguments among the brothers, starting with the state of the local schools but quickly moving on to whether the prototype houses should resemble the manor, whether an imposing front drive was practical or pretentious, whether their father would roll over in his grave if tennis courts were built at the expense of a golf course.
Caroline was still smarting from Ralph’s remarks about Chip. When the brothers began suggesting terms of a sale, like mandating that freestanding houses be built on two-acre lots and sell for no less than $1.5 million, she began to feel that these weren’t people she wanted to deal with at all. That was when Brad passed her a note.
All posturing. They know they have to sell. Let them talk. Once they settle and agree to a sale, I negotiate with Oakes.
Caroline was grateful for his words. Actually, she was grateful that he had agreed to come at all. Yes, his job called for it, but he had one foot out the door and could have pleaded a dentist appointment or a migraine or whatever. For all his emotional shortcomings, it had to be hard for him sitting in clear view of his ex-fiancée and her new husband. Much as Caroline wouldn’t want Jamie with him, she felt a brief fondness.
Blueprints Page 40