No. There was a richness to her now, an inner beauty, as though she’d come into her own long after she thought she already had.
That said, she smelled the same. Lily of the valley. Or was Jamie smelling the scent as it rose from the edge of the woods, where yards and yards of the real stuff carpeted the ground, green except for those tiny spikes of little white bells? The smell was ageless. It fit her mother perfectly.
“Are you nervous?” Caroline asked softly.
“With Chip’s parents here and Theo—” Distracted, she broke off. “He looks good, Mom. How did his tests go?” Theo had had a minor stroke the winter before, hastening Caroline’s ascension. Though he remained president of the company, he had named her CEO from his hospital bed. In the six months since, she had hired good people to help, including a CFO, a new legal head, and Samantha.
“He’s fine,” Caroline assured her. “Cagey as ever. There are times when I wonder whether he didn’t stage that little TIA just to get me on board.”
“But you and CEO are a fit. Better than me and kitchen. Yes, I’m nervous.” She indicated a Post-it on the wall by the fridge. “I have lists of what all to remember to put out—ketchup, mustard, pickles, olives, and—”
Caroline stoppered Jamie’s mouth. “Everything out there is terrific. The table is full.”
Jamie had a sudden thought. “Lemonade.” She started for the fridge, but Caroline caught her arm.
“It’s on the table, and if you’d forgotten, someone would have asked, you’d have come back in for it, and all would have been well. You don’t have to be perfect, baby. We’ve talked about that.”
“I know.”
“But that wasn’t what I meant,” Caroline said. “Are you nervous?”
Jamie didn’t follow, until her mother’s conspiratorial tone registered. Then her eyes lit. “You mean about watching the tape?” That was the second purpose for the party today. How could she have forgotten? Hel-lo. She’d had a few other things on her mind, like new sneakers for the boys, finishing touches in the guest room for Helene and Donald, and cole slaw dressing.
“It’s your debut,” Caroline said.
The hosting switch was complete, in part because Theo needed Caroline in the office, and in part because Jamie had taken to it so well. Caroline had hosted the fall project, to which Brian consented once he had a promise of the transition. They had just finished taping the spring project in Maine, with Jamie hosting from start to finish.
“It’s also Gina Anderson’s directorial debut,” Jamie pointed out, pinching back a smile. “Do we miss Claire?” The question was rhetorical. Her absence made things immeasurably more relaxed. And no, the Weymouth property wasn’t on the show. It never would be. The brothers were firm about that, and Jamie and Caroline had come to agree. They didn’t need Gut It! publicity to help sell the development; within months of inking the deal, MacAfee Homes had preliminary contracts on nearly every lot. Without the Weymouth property, the Barths hadn’t held much of a lure for Claire Howe, who decided that Gut It! didn’t hold much of a lure for her anyway, what with Brian intent on keeping the MacAfees and the MacAfees standing as one on who should host. An interim EP had directed the fall project, allowing Jamie and Gina to start fresh in the spring.
“If you’re nervous,” Caroline said now, “there’s no need. Your own personality emerged, and it worked, so if you’re worried about what the raw cut will show”—she tipped her head toward the great room, where a huge flat-screen awaited the postcookout showing—“do not be.”
‘I’m not,” Jamie said and realized that she meant it. “I’m really not. Not that Gut It! doesn’t matter. I mean, I love that we’re still doing the show, and the new coffee table book is going to be amazing. But it isn’t the only thing in my life.”
“That’s an understatement,” her mother drawled and asked, “I take it you’re happy with the latest new architect?” Jamie had actually been through two before finding a woman who could execute a similar architectural vision. Moreover, she had kids of her own, which meant that she was comfortable, in essence, job sharing with Jamie.
“Like her a lot,” Jamie declared, more concerned about dinner on the deck. Wanting to make sure everything was where it should be, she linked her arm through Caroline’s. They had no sooner left the kitchen, though, when her attention caught on her grandmother’s Victorian lace, which now hung on her own dining room wall.
“I feel guilty having this here, Mom.”
“Oh, no no no. Do not. This is where it’s supposed to be, one generation to the next.” They stood together before it. “What do you see?”
“Maybe it’s laughing at me and my cole slaw, because I see a bunch of big wide grins.”
“Those are happy grins. Satisfied grins. Fulfilled grins. I see them, too. What do you think that means?”
Jamie didn’t answer. Her throat was suddenly tight. She had her mother back with an even greater appreciation of their relationship, but that was just the beginning. Looking past the dining room, through the great room and out the French doors to a colorfully food-filled deck, where her husband was standing with Caroline’s would-be husband, flipping burgers on a huge gas grill, while the boys wandered from adult to adult eating hot dogs and chips, she was overwhelmed.
Then Theo looked their way. His wrinkled face broke into a grin, seconds before an arthritic hand gestured them out.
Neither was about to refuse.
acknowledgments
Do I seriously have to write about things I don’t know? How easy it would be to stick with the tried and true! Unfortunately, it would also be boring. I’ve always prided myself on making every one of my books different, so I naturally gravitate to the new. Or maybe I simply like new things, and if I do, I feel my readers will, too. Writing about new things is slightly scary at times. Trust me, there was plenty of insomnia where Blueprints was concerned.
My medicine for that? Good people, willing to share their expertise with me. I start by thanking Susan Wornick, television personality extraordinaire, who gave me enough information on how the real thing works to make Gut It! credible. I also knew nothing about architecture until Jenne Whitelaw and Peter Darlow filled me in enough so that I could picture a real architect’s life. My thanks to them. In the field of construction, huge thanks to Bob Gavill and to Ed Foran, for answering my questions. And Ed’s crew, which unwittingly made my book real. They were here in my house doing renovation work while I watched and asked questions. And they thought my curiosity was idle. Hah! My apologies for any deception, along with admiration and thanks.
Writing about these fields, I’ve taken liberties in the name of fiction. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.
My thanks, as always, to my agent, Amy Berkower, and to my editor, Hilary Rubin Teeman, and her talented and dedicated team at St. Martin’s Press. Thanks to my assistant, Lucy Davis, whose work exceeds assisting, to Linda Kay, for references and a ready ear, and to Eric MacLeish, for sharing child custody info in answer to every last question I posed. And to my family, truly the footprint on which my own personal blueprints are drawn. Much thanks and love forever.
Finally, my readers continue to be my greatest professional pleasure. With the landscape of the book world constantly changing, they continue to read my books. I never forget that.
about the author
BARBARA DELINSKY is a New York Times bestselling author with more than thirty million copies of her books in print. She has been published in twenty-eight languages worldwide. A lifelong New Englander, Delinsky earned a B.A. in psychology at Tufts University and an M.A. in sociology at Boston College. She lives in Massachusetts with her husband, more books than she’ll ever be able to read, two tennis racquets, and enough electronic devices to keep in close touch with her children and their families.
Visit her at wwww.BarbaraDelinsky.com or www.facebook.com/bdelinsky. Or sign up for email updates here.
ALSO BY BARBARA DELINSKY
The Invitation
The Real Thing
Crossed Hearts
The Dream
The Dream Unfolds
The Dream Comes True
Heat Wave
Sweet Serenity
A Special Something
The Right Wrong Number
Up All Night
First Things First
The Forever Instinct
Straight from the Heart
The Scent of Jasmine
Home Fires
Don’t Tempt Me
What the Waves Bring
Pictures of You
Silken Sands
Hold My Heart
Call My Name
Amber’s Embrace
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Barbara Delinsky
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
BLUEPRINTS. Copyright © 2015 by Barbara Delinsky. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Cover design by Michael Storrings
Cover photographs: ladder leaning against wall © Ojo Images/Getty Images; blueprints © Comstock/Getty Images
eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to ankoress 2015 [email protected].
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-00704-9 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-4668-7885-3 (e-book)
e-ISBN 9781466878853
First Edition: June 2015
Blueprints Page 42