“You’re welcome. I hope when the house is built you will return and spend some time here. You did promise to give me gardening tips.”
She nodded.
Kevin adjusted the air conditioning in his car. “I’ve wondered about your trip to Falcon Cove in the spring. It must have been very difficult for you to meet your mother and your half-sister after all those years. That took courage.”
“You might say courageous, others would suggest foolhardy. I’m sure some of my friends think I should have left it alone. Meanwhile, I have a mother and a sister and a whole set of relationships to deal with that I never had before. I can honestly say I wasn’t prepared for that.”
“I’m sure you’re up for it. Look at it this way; it’s a part of your life that you’re taking on without Kurt next to you.”
She looked at him, puzzled. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
“Well, you told me how old you were when you got married, and you were married for twenty years. Every action and every decision that you made during those years were made in reference to Kurt. Now, you’re free to do those things yourself.”
“He is Joe and Lauren’s father, so he’ll always be a part of my life. But if you think I’m sitting at home, pining away for him, you’re dead wrong. It’s been fifteen years since he left me. I’ve learned to adjust to life without him. I had no choice.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” But he wasn’t convinced. “You were very close to your father, weren’t you?”
“Yes, I was. He taught me a great deal, and we saw life in the same way.”
“I appreciate that. I was close to my father as well. When he died, I had to make all the funeral arrangements myself. My brother never even came home. It was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done.”
“I’m sorry. Saying goodbye is so hard.” There was a long silence. Finally, she spoke. “I apologize as well, Kevin, for dragging my heels about the house. I know you’ve made an offer. It’s hard for me to visualize it as no longer mine.”
“It’s okay. I’m a patient man. By the way, you call it the Sinclair house all the time, and you once asked me whether it would keep its name. I’m curious about the original owner.”
“Why?”
“I never invest in property unless I know its history. The Sinclair house, as you call it, was owned by Clarence Boland, isn’t that correct?”
“Yes. I once thought of him as my grandfather, but he wasn’t. Thank God.”
“Not an admirable fellow?”
“I didn’t have much to do with him. But what I did see wasn’t admirable, no.”
“Did your father talk much about him?”
“Very rarely. I think he didn’t want me to know, and I never asked.”
Kevin pondered her words. Were there things about Clarence Boland that Charles deliberately kept from his daughter? Even though she was his favourite? Or perhaps because she was? As he turned for the exit into St. John’s, he pieced together what he knew about Charles Sinclair. The picture was becoming clearer each day.
In the passenger’s seat, Jeanne questioned her decision to be so open about her father’s life and the Boland family. Despite Kevin’s affection for her, she wondered what he would make public about them. She rubbed her fingers across her face as she rested her elbow on the car door. Waves of mistrust honed from years of experience swept over her. She had to find a way to make it right. As they entered the city limits, she decided to turn to the one person who could help.
* * * * *
Despite the shortened workweek, Kurt was exhausted by Friday morning, and he knew he had planned a busy day. Shortly before noon, he passed by Doris’s desk, pausing only with a request. “Doris, I have a proposal to write, and it’s time-sensitive. Please, could you see that I’m not interrupted for about an hour? Unless it’s family, of course.”
“Certainly.”
Experience had taught him that asking Doris to guarantee his privacy was a sure thing. He was surprised, therefore, when she tapped on the door only a few minutes later.
“Kurt? Sorry to interrupt. You have a phone call.”
He looked up from his computer. “Who is it? Jaclyn? Lauren? Mother? If it’s Mother, tell her I lost my job and I’m gone to the unemployment office.”
“No, neither,” she said with a laugh. “It’s Emily.”
“Emily!” He looked directly at her. “Doris, I signed off on the Sinclairs with the divorce settlement, didn’t I?”
“I hope so. But she sounds upset, and she’d like to speak to you for a few minutes.”
“She probably has a GIC maturing in a month’s time. For Emily, that’s a crisis.”
“No, I think it’s personal. She sounds . . . desperate.”
“Fine.”
Doris closed the door and Kurt picked up the phone. “Good day, Emily.”
“Kurt, I know you are a busy man. I hope I’m not interrupting.”
Knowing there was no point in suggesting that he was, he simply said, “What can I do for you?”
“I am calling to ask a personal favour.”
“Okay.”
“This is all my fault. I realize that. I should never have encouraged Mr. Gillis to look into the house.”
“Emily, I’m not sure what you want.”
“I suggested to Kevin Gillis that he should talk to you. You do, after all, know so much about business. He wants to purchase the house and make it an inn. I know he’ll be very good at it. He owns an inn here, The Astilbe Inn, just outside Wolfville. The astilbe, you know, is a perennial, a beautiful flower in so many vibrant colours, and the staff there have seen to it that astilbe bloom in the garden all summer long. They plant them so that they are blooming all season. Isn’t that amazing?”
“Yes, but you were saying about Kevin Gillis?”
“He’s done a wonderful job with the inn, Kurt. It’s why I recommended him to Jeanne. I go there often, for my book club meetings, you know.”
Kurt smiled and managed “yes,” knowing that Emily was prone to giving extraneous information. He would let her talk it out. Eventually, with any luck, she’d get to the point of the phone call.
“I’ve chatted with him. I told him about the Sinclair house. I thought it would make a beautiful inn, like the one here. It seems now, in retrospect, that I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why is that?”
“Because apparently he researches every property before he buys it. Jeanne told me. I checked it out here and, yes, he has a brochure on The Astilbe Inn next to the entrance.”
“That sounds like a good practice.”
“I guess so, but, Kurt, don’t you think sometimes it’s best to let things stay in the past? I mean, you never know what people will find, things that will hurt people. No, I think it’s best to let things go, don’t you?”
“Emily, getting back to your request?”
“Yes. Well, I wonder would you mind asking him not to research Father’s house?”
Kurt sat back at such a bizarre request. “And would you explain why?”
“I prefer not to. It is private, private to the family, and you are not a . . .” She paused.
“A member of the family. No, I realize that, Emily, but surely Kevin would wonder why. If you’re worried that he’ll find out about your father and Mrs. West . . .”
“No, Father’s indiscretions are the least of my worries.”
“Then I’m sure he would wonder why.”
“Perhaps so, but it’s none of his business either.”
Kurt sighed and sought an easy way to end the conversation. “I’ll do what I can, Emily. I’ll suggest that he keep his findings private. Would that be okay?”
“I don’t know how effective that will be, Kurt. He has a
lovely plaque at the inn here with a full description of its history. He probably would want to do the same at the Sinclair house.”
“Would that be so terrible?”
“Please, Kurt, I’m asking. Pleading. Surely a man of your influence could persuade Kevin to stop. I understand that he wants you to be a partner with him on some business. That should be enough to sway him to your way of thinking.”
“As I said, I’ll do what I can. Ultimately, it’s his decision. In the meantime, he hasn’t purchased the house yet, so your request might be moot.”
Ignoring his comment, she continued. “I appreciate it, Kurt. I’ll leave it in your capable hands.”
But even as she sounded confident, when she hung up, Emily decided that she would have to take further action if she didn’t want Kevin to know what she knew.
* * * * *
Later in the afternoon, Kurt stretched his arms above his head while sitting in his office chair. He had just finished describing to Quentin the bizarre phone call from Emily. “Let’s call it a day, shall we?” He turned around to view the sunshine that flooded the west end of the city. “Besides, it’s a beautiful afternoon.” He heard footsteps, and Quentin stood up to check the door. Jeanne was standing on the other side.
“Jeanne. Good afternoon.”
“Quentin.” She nodded and walked by him. “Am I interrupting something important?”
“We’re finishing up,” Kurt answered. “What brings you here?” He motioned for Quentin to stay.
“Kevin told me he has an interview with you lined up for Monday.”
Kurt nodded. “Yes, I’ll spare him an hour or so because things are a little lighter this time of year. At least they were until today.” He glanced at Quentin with a half-smile. “Kevin wants to ask me about the economic climate of the province, where I think it’s going, and that sort of thing. I can express an opinion, for what it’s worth. Seems harmless enough.”
“I think he’s interested in your style of management, and I say that because he’s asked me what your secret is.”
Kurt laughed out loud. “Indeed. My secret?”
“Yes, he seems to think you have some magic elixir when it comes to employees. You cast a spell to ensure their loyalty.”
“That’s absurd, Jeanne, and you know it.”
“He’s also asked about my father. He wanted to know about how he treated his employees. It’s possible that he will bring that up with you as well. The reason I’m here, Kurt, is I’m asking you to keep any nasty comments about my father to yourself, please. I know that you had nothing but contempt for the man. Kevin’s article will be published, and people will read it, and . . .”
Kurt held up his hand and glanced over at Quentin again, this time to communicate telepathically that he’d had enough of the Sinclair sisters for one day. “Jeanne, listen to me,” he began quietly. “Charles is gone, and whatever I think about him as a man or as a businessman stays with me. It serves no one any good to read what I have to say about Charles Sinclair.”
“Thank you,” she responded. “And may I also ask you to keep your comments to yourself when you talk to Hannah?”
Kurt looked puzzled. “As I said, I have no reason to speak badly of the man. True, we did not agree often, and I have been critical about him privately. Quentin knows that,” he said. “As do Joe and Lauren. But I hardly know Hannah or her daughter. I certainly would not deliberately attempt to poison their views of him.”
“I appreciate that. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same about Joe and Lauren.”
“That’s their prerogative. They have very upsetting memories of the man. You and I cannot help that. If asked, they will answer truthfully. If you are concerned that Kevin will talk to them about your father, I suggest that you talk to them first. But don’t expect either of them to say anything other than what they feel. I would expect nothing less than them telling the truth.”
Jeanne’s look of desperation caused Quentin to take notice. From where he sat, he could see that she was shaky. He concluded that Jeanne was growing fond of Kevin and this family issue had the potential to upset their relationship. She was, quite simply, protesting too much about his intentions. Either that or she knew something that would shake the real estate deal apart. He leaned forward, hoping to help the situation. “Jeanne, if I may . . .”
She turned to him.
“If Kevin Gillis is a reputable writer, which Alan tells me he is, then it’s very unlikely that he’s going to write anything about Charles’s relationship with his grandchildren. After all, his purpose is to write an article about Water Street businesses and how the owners related to their employees, and then presumably compare it to today’s workplace. That sounds fairly innocuous to me. How he talked to his grandson on a typical Sunday afternoon is meaningless.”
“I guess you’re right, Quentin.” She took a deep breath. “Thank you. That is reassuring.” She looked carefully at the two men in front of her. She ran her hand through her hair. “All of this has come about in the past few months and has been difficult to accept. I’m sure you understand.”
“Yes, of course,” Quentin said, and Kurt nodded in agreement.
“Well, I’ll leave you to your work.” But as she gathered her purse and sweater, Kurt leaned forward. “Jeanne, one more thing before you go.”
“Yes.”
“Is there anything about the history of the Sinclair house that I don’t know about?”
Jeanne looked puzzled. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I had the most bizarre call from Emily this morning. She asked me to do what I could to prevent Kevin from researching the history of the house. Apparently, you told her that Kevin planned to do that.”
“Yes, of course. It’s part of his work.”
“And it’s a good idea. I commend him for it. But for some reason, Emily is dead set against it.”
Jeanne shook her head in frustration. “I know. She mentioned it to me as well, although she didn’t explain why. I’m sorry that she interrupted your workday, Kurt. You know what she’s like when she gets onto something. She won’t let it go.”
“Hmmm . . . indeed. Just thought I’d let you know.”
As Kurt walked with her down the hallway to a glass elevator, Jeanne surveyed the atrium arrayed with brightly flowering shrubs. The only sound in the building came from the two small fountains at either end of the atrium.
“Someone’s done a beautiful job,” Jeanne observed.
“I’ll pass along the compliment to Jaclyn,” he responded. “By the way, have you spoken to Hannah and Carrie lately?”
“Yes, a few days ago.”
“I don’t know if Lauren has mentioned this or not, but Sandi and Joe’s godparents want to put together an engagement party in August. Will you be in town?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“Fine. Check with Lauren for details. She wants to invite Hannah and Carrie as well, if that’s okay.”
Jeanne turned to him, looking into the deep blue eyes that she had fallen in love with so many years ago. “She and Joe came by the house and asked me.”
“Good. I hope they will agree to attend.”
“Kurt, I know that my mother and my sister are in my life now, but to be honest, bringing them to social functions is not something I look forward to. I know everyone will judge whether we look alike or talk alike, and they’ll whisper about my father’s indiscretions. It’s the questions. You know what people are like.” She hoped for sympathy; instead she got advice.
“Jeanne, I would suggest that most people are past that, except for possibly the likes of Caroline Kavanagh and her coven. I’d recommend keeping her at bay, if that’s possible. What your mother and father did means very little to anyone else but her type.”
She stepped onto the frosted glass el
evator and simply nodded. “Thanks for the advice,” she said, as the doors closed. But Kurt knew his advice was not what she wanted to hear.
* * * * *
In his hotel room, shortly after eleven o’clock that evening, Kevin had fallen asleep while watching the baseball game. He was startled out of sleep by the phone ringing. He opened his eyes, peered at the numbers on the digital clock, 11:10, and wondered who would be contacting him at such an hour. He picked up the phone.
“Mr. Gillis?”
“Yes.”
“This is Emily Sinclair.”
He sat up quickly. “Yes. Emily. Are you here in the city?”
“No, I’m at home in Nova Scotia. I’m sorry to bother you.”
“That’s okay. I’m sure it’s important.”
“It is. I have a concern, and I thought you could help.”
“A concern?”
“Yes. I’ve spoken to Jeanne, and she told me that you’re planning to put in an offer on the house.”
“I’ve already done so.”
“I see. I understand as well that you usually research a place thoroughly before you buy it.”
“Yes, I do, especially the older homes, those with rich histories like the Sinclair house.” Kevin shifted on the bed and adjusted the pillows behind him. He could not imagine where this conversation was headed.
“That’s admirable, of course, to be so thorough, but in this case, I’m asking that you refrain from conducting any research.”
“Well, Emily, I’ve already started.”
There was a long pause.
“Emily?”
“Yes, I see. That’s unfortunate.”
“Might I ask why?” He sat up and swung his legs down by the side of the bed. His curiosity energized him.
“I’d rather not say. But I’d like you to go no further. Please.”
“Emily, I’m afraid you have me baffled.”
“Mr. Gillis . . .”
All Good Intentions Page 21