by Dara Girard
"To do what specifically?"
"Does it matter?"
His mother hesitated. "I want so much for you. You had everything and now--"
"I'm making the choices I need to make."
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
No. "Yes."
"You'd better. I don't mind you ruining your life. You like to be reckless, but Kojo isn't like you."
"My battery’s running low. Bye Mom." He disconnected then put his phone away.
He'd pay his brother from his savings. He knew hiring him was the only way to appease his mother and he would need someone to help supervise the men, once jobs started coming in.
As spring turned into summer, Vance got word out that he would be starting his own company. He surprised some family and friends, by deciding not to be a general contractor, but instead to limit his business to furniture restoration and conservation. He had always wanted to dive into his first love working with antiques. Growing up, he was always fixing up old pieces of furniture he’d pick up from yard sales and flea markets. He remembered his mother limiting him to their garage, telling him “I don’t want you bringing that old thing in here.” Then several weeks later, she would see what he’d done with a piece and take it. He loved studying the different ways furniture was made, and had taken a carpentry class at the local college.
“I hope you plan on getting a better career than cleaning up old furniture,” was a constant phrase he heard from his mother. She had no idea how much could be made repairing and refinishing so called ‘old junk.’ Now he could put in practice what he had learned so many years before. A few years back, he had traveled to Italy, and attended a six-week apprentice program, to learn from some of the most experienced and well known furniture makers and restorers. Now he would apply what he knew. He found a space, where the rent was reasonable, and set up shop. He named his company, ML Restoration and Conservation. He decided to use the first letter of his mother and father's surnames: Minton and Lamine. Within a month, several workers from Cordell’s firm came knocking.
"I can't give you the salary you need," he told them. "You have a young family to support and Clyde you're nearing retirement.
“We know that,” Clyde said. “Just like you, I’ve put aside a small savings, I can hold on, at least for a year of two, until we get on our feet.” He was an excellent worker, and experienced in structural restoration, and Vance knew that having him as part of his team would be a coup.
“I can get by.” Andrew Bryson was a tall, lanky guy around thirty. “My parents said we can move in with them. They have a basement apartment I can use, until I start bringing in a salary.” Vance was moved, but still not sure. He didn’t mind taking the risk, but he wasn’t sure he wanted others to do the same.
"We like working with you. Cordell’s old school and won't try new things." By the end of his first week Vance had three full-time workers, and he was able to start work on Greta's house. Two of his best friends, one an electrician and another worked in construction, volunteered to help him fix Greta's place, donating their time. All Vance had to do was buy the material and supplies, which he got wholesale. Now he was ready to face Greta and tell her how he felt.
***
Eric was a genius. Greta looked at Vance's thriving plant with pride. She'd followed his instructions and it had turned around. She'd even played her clarinet for it, although she hadn't been able to go back to rehearsals yet, but playing again had filled her with hope. She knew that she would soon be traveling again for work and she still didn't know what to do about her house. Greta turned from the plant and rested her briefcase down next to the couch. It had been a stressful day at work and looking at Vance's plant always lifted her spirits. It least it was one thing in her life that was working. She sat on the sofa and rested her head in her hands. She hadn't seen him in weeks and their phone calls were always cordial, but brief. Maybe he was avoiding her. Maybe he felt that he'd taken too much on by taking her in. She didn't want to be a burden. She hadn’t planned on staying longer than a couple days and it had now been a couple of months.
Greta lifted her head when she heard keys in the lock. Had Sylvie come by again? Would she be the one to tell Greta that her time was up? Was she going to show off her ring? Greta jumped to her feet in surprise when she saw Vance. He looked different somehow. Tired, and the sadness she'd sensed several weeks ago was gone from his eyes, replaced by a hesitation she couldn't understand.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Why would anything be wrong?"
"Your face."
"I should learn to hide my emotions better. It's just been a hard week."
"Sit down. I'll make you something. It's really good to see you." Greta started to walk past him, then stopped, knowing the question that burned in her heart. "Have you asked her yet? Did she say yes?"
"Who?"
"Who else? Your girlfriend. I met her when she dropped by."
Chapter Eleven
Vance stared at her stunned. "Sylvie came by here?"
"Yes, I'm surprised she didn't tell you. It was awhile back. I guess it wasn't important. She was looking for you and we had a great chat."
"You did?"
"Yes, you're lucky to have each other. I can tell she really loves you."
"Sylvie came by here?" He motioned to the floor.
Great nodded. "Isn't that what I just said?"
Vance rubbed the back of his neck. She'd never done something like that before. She probably wanted to see what Greta looked like. "I don't believe it."
"She's so beautiful and kind. She told me she's a graphic designer."
His shoulders relaxed. "Oh. That's not Sylvie."
"Who is she?"
"My daughter."
"You have a daughter?"
"Yes."
"In graduate school?"
"Yes."
Vance waited for her to make the connection and silently answered her questions. Yes, his daughter was twenty-three and he was thirty-nine. He'd had her when he was sixteen. Yes, he probably should have mentioned it early. No, she didn't hear about it at school, but he didn't brag or mention it like the others did. No, he didn’t keep pictures of her around, because the baby pictures he liked embarrassed her. He'd gotten in the habit of protecting himself and his daughter from the possible scorn of others for so long, he didn't know how to stop. Some women were impressed when they learned he had a grown daughter he'd raised, with his parents help. Other, mostly those from an upper class background, thought he was quaint. But he hadn’t done it as a badge of honor, but out of duty and shame. He never forgot the conversation with his father. He let him know he needed to step up to the role of being a father. Their sort didn't abdicate or skip out on their responsibility. He'd followed his father's words, but he didn't completely change his ways.
Would Greta see him in that light? As he used to be? Would she see him as the kind of guy who'd knocked up her sister? The kind of guy with smooth words and no prospects? He'd charmed his way through school, barely earning any grade he received. Getting girlfriends to cover and care for him. But that wasn't who he was now. He could have given her up for adoption. He'd kept her for selfish reasons. He thought having a kid made him a man. But he knew Greta would see through him. That's what terrified him. He couldn't charm her or seduce her or use any of his usual tricks. Why did he care so much?
"You must be so proud."
Vance blinked. She beamed at him. There was no judgment or censor. She just looked at him as if he were a proud parent, which until that moment, he'd never let himself be.
"I mean she's amazing," Greta said. "So elegant and smart."
"I'm not going to pretend that after she was born I turned my life around. It took another two years for that, but I've changed. I had to provide for her and I wanted to be a good father and role model."
"And you are. I know looking after a kid is no easy feat. You've done a great job."
"Thank you."
&
nbsp; "Her mother--"
"Is not in our lives."
"Oh." Greta suddenly swore.
Vance laughed.
She frowned at him. "What's so funny?"
"Hearing you swear."
"You don't know everything about me."
"What are you swearing for?"
"If I'd known she was your daughter I wouldn't have told her all about the drug bust. That was not something she needed her hear. It was just that I wanted her to understand why I was there. I thought she was your girlfriend and wanted her to know everything you were doing for me, and why I was here. "
"I'm glad you told her."
"Why?"
"Because I want you to know her and for her to get to know you."
"Now we do." She turned. "Let me go get you something."
Vance grabbed her arm, stopping her. "Wait."
Greta looked up at him curious. "What is it? I know something is bothering you."
He dropped his gaze. "I broke up with Sylvie."
"I'm sorry."
He looked at her, then his gaze lowered to her lips. "I hope you don't mean that."
Greta licked her lips again, her mouth suddenly feeling dry. "What?"
He took a step closer his eyes capturing hers. "I don't want you to be sorry, Tera. I want you to be glad. I had to end it with Sylvie. It wasn't an easy decision to make, but I wasn't being fair to her. I want to be with you. I can't explain why and I don't care. I like you. I like being with you. I like how you make me feel." He cupped her face in his hands then said in a hoarse whisper, "Please don't tell me I'm the only one who feels this way."
Greta shook her head.
"Good," he said then his mouth covered hers. The touch of his lips sent her senses whirling. It was dream. It was fantasy. Could she really believe this was happening? When she felt his arms circle her waist and press her close to him, she no longer cared. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. When his hand snaked down her thigh she drew away.
"Wait, maybe we shouldn't."
He drew her close again and nuzzled her neck, his breath warm against her skin. "Do what?"
"This."
His hand inched up her blouse. "Why not?"
Greta fought to stay focused as his hand slid up her back and unhooked her bra. "You're getting over a breakup. I'm just trying to be sensible."
"I broke up months ago."
She stared at him shocked. "And you didn't tell me?"
He swung her up into his arms. "There's a lot I haven't told you."
"But where have you been staying?"
"In a hotel." He headed for his bedroom.
"Why didn't you come here?"
"I had a lot to think about. The truth is, I not only broke up with Sylvie, I lost my job too and had to trade in my car so that I could start my own business." He set her on the bed and took off her blouse. "But I don't want to talk right now."
Greta’s heart pounded in her ears as her mind tried to comprehend what was happening. He'd felt this way for months? Could she believe her eyes and her ears? Her body definitely could as his hands undressed the rest of her. Her skin responding to every touch. Was this really happening? In seconds his hard body was on top of hers.
Vance’s eyes searched hers with a passion that made her mouth dry and her body wet. "Are you taking anything?"
"I've never had the need too."
"You do now." He sat up. "But that's for later. Let me find something." He went to his side table and opened the drawer then he swore.
"What?"
"It's empty." He raced around the bed and checked the other drawer and swore again this time with more feeling. "I can't believe I'm out." He snapped his fingers then darted out of the room. Greta bit her lip never imaging she'd enjoy the sight of seeing a naked man run around a room. He returned with his overnight bag and frantically searched the contents. "I'm an idiot. Why didn't I take any with me? I had a whole bunch of them."
"That's not something I want to hear right now."
He had the grace to look chagrined. "Oh, right. Sorry."
"It's okay we can do it another time."
"No, I want to do it now," he said sounding like a petulant child. He upended his case, dumping the contents on the bed. "I can't believe I left one of the most important things."
"There is another option."
"What?"
"Outercourse."
"Outer-what?"
Greta lay down on her side and crooked her finger. "Come here."
Vance lay down next to her. "What?"
"Let's just touch each other."
"I don't want to just touch."
"With just our mouths." She covered one of his nipples with her mouth and sucked it then met his gaze and smiled. "What do you think?"
His reply needed no words. His mouth covered her breasts, his tongue teasing her nipples, and then making a slow steamy path up her thighs to her center, soaring her into heights of ecstasy. She returned the favor, leaving a hot trail down his stomach then lowering her mouth to the center of him, using her tongue in ways that made him gasp. She met his eyes. "You like that?"
"I dreamed about your tongue."
"My tongue?"
"Yes. When you were wetting that reed for your clarinet, I nearly lost it."
Greta giggled. "That's why you left?"
"I had to. I wanted you so bad. I still do." He kissed her, his mouth making her senses spin and soon using their mouths wasn't enough. They used their hands, exploring every inch of each other. He slid his fingers inside her, making her moan. "Next time that will be me," he whispered.
"I thought it was."
"Not the part of my anatomy I want it to be," he said with feeling. "I--"
Greta smothered the rest of his words with a kiss and quickly made him forget about condoms and anything else but her. Once satisfied, they collapsed on the bed. Greta rested her head on his chest and laughed.
"What's so funny?"
"Who would think that ‘Van the Man’ would end up sleeping with ‘Greta the Gremlin'?’"
He tenderly caressed the side of her face. "We're not those people anymore."
"No."
"I don't think we ever were."
"You were."
He shook his head. "Most of it was all show. Sometimes I felt on top of the world and others times I was scared out of my mind that I'd be found out. You scared me the most."
"I did? What do you mean by 'found out'?”
“That I wasn’t who I pretended to be. But you were so confident. You didn't care what people thought."
She chuckled. "My grandmother taught me how to build a shell to protect myself. If I cared what others thought I'd never get anywhere. But I won't pretend that some of the things people said and didn't hurt sometimes."
"I'm sorry."
"Apology accepted."
"So, does that mean you'll go to the prom with me?" he teased, taking on the bravado he'd had as a teen. "I have a lot of girls waiting for an invitation, but I'd like to take you."
"I'm not sure. That depends."
He turned on his side and looked at her. "On what?"
"Well, Drake asked me out first."
"Drake Henson? Flaky Drake?"
"Who called him that?"
"The guys on my basketball team. Of course no one ever said that to his face but the guy was just strange. He was asleep most of the time. Or always preoccupied with something."
"I liked that about him," Greta said with a dreamy smile. "He was so nice to me."
"And I wasn't."
Greta sat up, ready to put her clothes on. "No, you weren't."
Vance drew her back down on the bed, and caged her between his arms gazing at her with a steady gaze that brimmed with tenderness. "How can I make it up to you?"
Greta smiled at him, wanting him to know there were no hard feelings left. "You're doing well so far."
"So, forget the prom. How about a date? What would you like to do?"
"There's something I've always wanted to do, but you might find it silly."
"What?"
"I'd love to go bicycle riding around the Tidal Basin then we can go to that fountain near the Capitol. Oh, what’s its name?"
"Court of Neptune Fountain?"
"Yes. It’s beautiful, especially at night."
"Okay, let’s do it."
"There's one problem."
He paused. "Don't tell me you can't ride a bicycle."
She grimaced. "I never learned how. I mean, first I never owned one, then life got busy and time slipped away and here I am."
"Fine, I'll teach you." He sat up. "Now let's get something to eat."
Chapter Twelve
"I may be moving soon," Marlene said. Greta had met her sister for coffee. She tried to see her sister at least once a month and keep in touch so that she could make sure she was okay. She looked healthy and happy, even though Greta cringed when Marlene said her 'fortune teller' had told her. "She said I'll soon be going on a grand adventure."
"I'm glad to hear that."
"Mom didn't believe me."
Greta paused. "Wait, you heard from Mom?"
"Yes, she's staying with us."
"She's staying with you?"
"Yes, she had nowhere else to go after you threw her out."
Greta shook her head annoyed. "Again, everything’s my fault."
"No," Marlene said softly. "I understand why you did it, but I couldn't just say no to her."
Greta took a sip of her coffee then picked up her biscotti. "You can't let her stay long."
"She's not too much trouble."
"She will be. She's bad news."
Marlene paused and looked down at her hands. “Sorry about what happened to your house. Mom said it was all Terrell’s fault. And I know you have a right to be angry, but she's our mother."
Greta set down her biscotti, losing her appetite. "I know that more than anyone."
"People can change."
"She hasn't." Greta lowered her voice and pointed at her sister. "Remember, don't let any of her men in your apartment. Not one."
Marlene rolled her eyes. "I'm a big girl now, I know how to handle mom."
Greta wasn't so sure. Her sister was caring and her mother was manipulative. She wished she'd suspected her mother would pull something like this. Marlene was just getting her life back on track and didn't need Rita messing it up.