Newport Dreams: A Breakwater Bay Novella

by Shelley Noble

  It was because she was some dilettante rich kid out on a lark who would leave as soon as she lost interest. She didn’t need this job. Hell, she could pay for a good chunk of the restoration for what she probably paid for that car. He could probably survive for a whole year on the same amount. Hell, she’d laugh if he invited her to dinner, she probably ate at five-star restaurants.

  He reached for his notebook. He’d spent hours last night calculating specs and working out scheduling for demolition and reconstruction, while Miss Fancy Pants was out getting wasted and probably having hot sex all night.

  He logged in, then stood glaring at the women until they left the room.

  Doug shook his head and leaned over the fact sheet.

  “I know,” Bruce said. “I’m just a little stressed these days. Sorry.”

  “Look if you don’t have the time, I understand. I’ve been there. I had to turn down lots of work when I started out, because I had to work paying construction jobs. Made me crazy.”

  “But you stuck it out.”

  Doug straightened up. “Having second thoughts?”

  “No. And I could make it fine if some of my clients would actually pay me. But it seems the richer they are the slower they are in paying.”

  “Which is probably why they’re rich.”

  “Probably.”

  “Look, if you need to spend some time on your other work, do it. We’ve got enough work to keep us busy. I’ve got a call in to a couple of carpenters. They can handle the changes. Catch up with your other work. We’ll still be here.” He chuckled. “Actually, we haven’t paid you either.”

  “You’re different. I want to do this and nobody else is being paid yet, except that party girl, and if you ask me she doesn’t need the money.”

  “Maybe not, but she takes a damn good photograph.”

  “Jeez.” Carlyn said as they walked tandem back to the office. “Feeling a little tense, are we?”

  “I know.” Meri pantomimed strangling herself. “I probably should have stayed to see the numbers, but I was afraid he was going to blow.”

  “Is he always this nasty?” Geordie asked. “Or . . . or is it just me that sets him off?”

  “You?” Carlyn stopped and threw her arm around Geordie’s shoulder.

  It took her by surprise and she nearly flinched away.

  “Why do you think it’s you?”

  Geordie shrugged but didn’t answer.

  When they reached Carlyn’s office, Meri closed the door. “I don’t know Bruce very well. I’ve never worked on a project with him. But Doug doesn’t allow histrionics on a project, does he Carlyn?”

  “Only his own. Fortunately the worst he gets is teddy-bear-on-a-tear. I don’t know about Bruce, but I bet you money, Doug’s in the kitchen telling him to lighten up.”

  Geordie took a breath. Her throat tightened. “Maybe I should just . . .”

  “Don’t quit,” they said simultaneously.

  It made Geordie smile and at this point she didn’t think she had a smile left.

  “At least not until after lunch,” Carlyn said. “We’ll go out. Meri can’t do anything until the cleaners are gone except help them haul garbage. Totally a waste of her talent. And I can’t face the non-state of our non-finances on an empty stomach.”

  “Is it really that bad?”

  “Always. And total mayhem at the start. But somehow we keep muddling through. Meri, remember the first day on the Wilkinses’ Farm?”

  “Do I have to? The stone house had survived for almost two hundred years up until it was declared a historic home and okayed for restoration. We walked into a foot of water. A pipe had burst. Fortunately it happened only that morning. You’ve never seen people move so fast to pump out the water before it stained the fieldstone.”

  “You’ve all worked together a long time?”

  “Yeah,” Meri said. “I weaseled my way into an internship with Doug while I was in college, before I really knew what I was doing.”

  Geordie’s stomach bottomed out. Was Meri giving her a subtle hint?

  Carlyn thumped her chest. “I fortunately knew what I was doing from the get-go.”

  “Finance major,” Meri said. “I got her hooked on architecture and the rest is history.”

  “That’s really neat. I mean that you’re friends and colleagues and everything.”

  The two women exchanged smiles, a kind of camaraderie Geordie couldn’t remember having.

  “Yeah it is,” Carlyn said.

  “And karaoke partners,” Meri added. “Hey, it’s hard being the new kid. You’ll find your way. By the way, can you sing?”

  BRUCE LEFT THE plans with Doug and drove to Middletown to check on the progress of the Lovells’ bathroom renovation, stopping only long enough to drive through a fast-food place and down a hamburger while he drove.

  The fixtures had been put in, the plumbers had come and gone. He spent the afternoon measuring and laying backsplash tile, while one tiler came in to do the cuts.

  It was dark by the time he climbed back into his old Kia and headed for home. Man and car both needed a bath, and the Kia needed new brakes. Like that was going to happen. He might be biking it before the winter set in. Or maybe the Lowells would give him a big tip.

  He’d meant to check on a kitchen/great room demolition, but he was just too tired. But he did swing by to see if Doug was still on-site.

  Doug’s car was gone, but Carlyn’s was in the parking lot, along with Meri’s bike and Geordie’s little sports car. The Dumpster had been delivered and was already piled high with junk. He probably should have stayed to help oversee the clean out, but Meri was more than capable. He was just turning into a control freak and that was not a good thing.

  He parked at the back door and took a few deep breaths before going inside. The hall was dark but he could hear laughter coming from down the hall.

  It was coming from the annex. What could the girls be doing in there at this hour?

  He groped his way toward the sound and poked his head in the open door. The room was only partially lit, enough to show a pizza box and a six-pack of soda. The three of them were sitting at the table behind Geordie’s laptop.

  Were they helping her to organize her slides? Honestly, if she couldn’t do the most basic work by herself, she really needed to be off the project.

  She saw him first. Froze like a deer in headlights then jabbed at the projector. The room suddenly went dark. Leaving the women barely silhouetted against the little light from the hall.

  Carlyn stood and a second later the overhead light came on.

  No one gave him any kind of explanation. Just looked.

  “Is Doug still around?” he asked, knowing it was a stupid question, because Doug’s car was gone.

  “He left about an hour ago, “ Meri said. “We’ve just been looking at—” She broke off. “Can I do anything for you?”

  “No.” They were acting awfully suspicious. “Did you finish documenting your photos?”

  Geordie didn’t answer. Damn her, he wasn’t an ogre. “Well?”

  Carlyn struck one of her poses. “Signed.”

  Meri mimicked the same pose. “Sealed.”

  He waited, but Geordie didn’t join in. She just gave him a look, then shoved a thick manila envelope across the table.

  Bruce barely caught it before it hit the ground.

  “Hard copy and I e-mailed you the file.”

  He studied the three women. He’d bet money that’s why they were all three still here. They had helped her. Anger welled up inside him. He tamped it down. What did it matter to him if they wanted to help her? She’d just better start carrying her weight, and soon.

  He took the folder, glanced inside. It was thorough, to judge by the first few pages. “Just lock up when you’re done.” God, he sounded li
ke a condescending jackass. “I mean . . .”

  “We know what you mean, and we’ll be sure to check everything before we leave.” Meri smiled at him. “Especially our naughty-and-nice list.” She was joking but she was letting him know he had stepped over the line. “Twice.”

  Brue nodded. He deserved that. He really needed to get a grip. Maybe he should make a doctor’s appointment.

  He didn’t need tranquilizers, he needed more time, more money . . . he needed to lighten up and give his business plan more time or go back to working in a firm and quit being an ass to his colleagues because he was screwing up.

  He hid a yawn behind his fist; his eyes were gritty from tile dust and lack of sleep.

  “Must have been some party.” Geordie smiled back at him, not friendly but a combination of sarcasm, anger, and challenge.

  He didn’t have the energy or the patience to play that game. “Good night.” He retreated into the hallway.

  “WHEW,” CARLYN SAID. “That boy needs some smacking.” She grinned. “And I wouldn’t mind doing it, except he’s just too damn intense for me.”

  “And I’ve got a boyfriend,” Meri said. “Soon to be fiancé. Besides it doesn’t really work to get involved with your coworkers.”

  They both looked at Geordie.

  Geordie shook her head, “You don’t have to warn me. He’s good-looking, but I’m with Carlyn, way too uptight. Plus he doesn’t like me.”

  “Huh,” Carlyn said. “Maybe he just needs some love.”

  Meri pushed her chair back. “I don’t know about Bruce, but I know I do. Can you guys close up? I’ve got to go home and change so I can do-wah-diddy all night.”

  Carlyn sighed. “I guess I’ll go home and wash my hair.”

  Meri laughed. “Don’t let her fool you. She’s got a stable of . . .”

  “Don’t say it. Commitment-phobic hunks.”

  “I was just going to say hunks. But yeah, she really knows how to pick them.”

  Carlyn rolled her eyes and began cleaning up the pizza leftovers.

  Meri dumped their paper plates in a garbage bag. “So I’ll be busy tomorrow , but Sunday is supposed to be nice. Peter’s working on a brief, and I’m going out to see Gran. Might be our last beach day. Want to come?”

  “I’m in,” Carlyn said.

  “How about you, Geordie? If you’re free, you’re welcome to come. My grandmother lives across the bridge on a farm near Little Compton. It’s right on the ocean. Private beach. Good food. And she loves company.”

  It sounded great but were they just being polite? Should she stay home and work? Brood? Worry?

  “You can ride out with me,” Carlyn said. “You could get some great shots of the farm and the bay.”

  “Well . . . okay . . . thanks.”

  They carried the trash and recycling back to the kitchen. Meri left but Carlyn and Geordie doubled-checked windows and doors, and turned off all the lights before closing up the house for the weekend.

  “When things start moving we’ll be working all the time, even on Sundays whenever Doug’s wife will let him. Sometimes without him. But you won’t need to be on-site all the time. You’ll have time for your other work.”

  Alarmed, Geordie blurted. “I don’t have other work.”

  “I mean your other photos. You know they’re very good. They should be in a gallery. Meri thinks so, too, and she knows her stuff.”

  Geordie gave her a weak smile. That’s how this whole thing started, when she’d announced that she was going to be a professional art photographer. It’s what she really wanted to do. It was obvious after tonight and the way Meri and Carlyn had reacted to her portfolio that that was where her talent lay.

  She’d known it for a while. Even while trying to fit it into another job, which would bring her “security” and teach her “responsibility.” Like her sisters. Alicia and Kendra were professionals—marketing and pediatrics—and married—podiatrist and lawyer.

  Geordie thought project photographer might satisfy her father. It sounded pretty good, but basically it was a job with no future. No ladder to the corner office—not even a husband.

  But Meri and Carlyn, Doug, and even Bruce Stafford were passionate about their work. Lived for it. Gave up other more lucrative careers for it.

  Geordie wanted to have that fire and the only times she felt it were when she was photographing . . . in the zone, as it were . . . or in the darkroom or at the computer working with her photos.

  But how could she convince her dad?

  They said Bruce was stressed. Well, she knew the feeling.

  Ordinarily when life got to be too much, she’d go out to a party or a bar, have a few drinks, dance, maybe pick up some decent guy for a one nighter. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a steady lover. And “boyfriend?” It was a quaint and yet oddly tempting idea. Unfortunately, she’d never met anyone who kept her interest for more than a few days.

  She wondered if Bruce had a steady relationship with someone.

  “Don’t even think it.” She liked the way he looked, kind of got off on his intensity when it wasn’t directed toward her. But she knew better than to pursue it. She knew exactly where that would lead. Not to love, but straight out the door with a pink slip.

  Chapter 5

  EARLY SUNDAY MORNING, Geordie slung a stuffed beach bag and her waterproof camera bag across her chest and set off to meet Carlyn. The day was already sunny and warm and she was looking forward to a day at the beach.

  She was also a little nervous. She liked Carlyn and Meri, but she knew very little about them. And they knew practically nothing about her, which is the way she wanted it.

  She’d insisted on walking over to Carlyn’s apartment because she didn’t want them to see where she lived. Have it draw a line between them. Have to explain that it wasn’t really hers. All the things you found out about people as you got to know them.

  She wanted to be taken seriously, not be thought of as the rich, aimless person she was. Besides she was really enjoying the work.

  And not just photographing the site. She’d helped Carlyn rearrange the furniture in her office. Then Meri asked her to help her roll out plastic to cover some wood inlay. Everyone on the team pitched in where and when they were needed. And before Geordie realized it, she’d joined in the spirit of the others. Strangely enough she began to feel excitement, found herself taking ownership in the project herself.

  Only Bruce blamed Geordie for not having experience. Doug had complimented her work. Meri and Carlyn didn’t judge her, but helped bring her up to speed.

  The more Geordie learned about Doug’s team, the more her mind started going places she’d promised herself not to go. Here were people who lived from paycheck to paycheck, saving what money they could for when there were no checks. Who were content hanging out at the neighborhood karaoke bar, or eating lunch on the steps of an old house.

  And they loved their work.

  Geordie loved the way they got excited over simple things. Like Meri, rapt as she stared up at that god-awful painted ceiling. Doug marking up the floor plans with a flourish of an artist. Even Bruce, the ogre, hunched over the front steps, speculating what might be underneath decades of paint and plaster and grime.

  She understood what they were seeing. Felt their anticipation, the possibilities. Wasn’t it the same with her when she saw something that was more than what it appeared? Something that her eye could capture and transform . . .

  Geordie arrived at Carlyn’s much too soon. She was looking forward to the day but also was a little nervous. She shifted her bags and walked up the steps of an old house with four mailboxes hanging on the front wall. It was funky and lived-in. As she opened the door, a man holding a child in one arm and a tricycle in the other, called out, “Hold the door.”

  Geordie did and stayed to watch as the girl
climbed on and pedaled down the sidewalk, her father walking briskly behind her.

  Carlyn lived on the first floor. She answered the door wrapped in a towel. “Come on in. I’m almost ready. Just running a tad late.”

  Geordie walked into the smallest combination living room and kitchen she’d seen since her summer abroad in Ibiza, where she photographed Greek ruins and dark native children playing in the streets.

  She could see through to a small bedroom that was filled with morning light and half-packed cardboard boxes.

  “Are you moving?”

  “No, can’t afford to. My roommate is going to grad school in California. I’ll have to start looking for another one.” She shuddered dramatically. “It’s so hard to find someone you can put up with and vice versa.”

  Geordie nodded. She couldn’t imagine being confined to such a small space.

  “I’m almost ready. Just have a seat.”

  Geordie sat on a vintage couch that sagged in the middle and was threadbare on the arms.

  “Overslept.” Carlyn called from the second bedroom. She came out a minute later dressed in yellow jeans and an orange striped tee under a black hoodie. She rummaged through her oversized purse, tossing out a book, makeup, papers, and a calculator onto the tiny kitchen counter. Finally, she extracted a wallet and a pair of sunglasses and stuffed them into an even larger tote.

  Geordie stood. “Are you sure it’s okay with Meri’s grandmother if I show up?”

  “I’m sure. The more the merrier. Gran loves company and she’s a great cook.”

  Geordie swallowed. She hoped she wouldn’t feel awkward and totally out of place.

  “Come on. Sun’s out. Let’s get hopping; there won’t be many more days like this.”

  Carlyn’s car was parked at the curb half a block away. They threw their stuff in the back seat and jumped in.

  It was the end of September, and they were having a bit of an Indian summer. And a brief respite from tourists, a few days between the end of one tourist season and before the fall leaves drew a whole new set of people

  Traffic, always heavy on weekends, was moving steadily but slowly and a few minutes later they were turning onto Memorial Boulevard heading east toward the bridge that would lead them to the peninsula and farmland.