* * *
Two days later, Stewart assisted Izabella onto the buggy and drove toward her house to discuss the renovation. Although he had been in the building on many occasions, he normally entered the front door and ascended the steps to spend the night with Izabella. Early in the morning, he’d leave her sleeping, lock the door and return to his own home. Not until seeing the building through the eyes of an architect did he realize the full potential. Structurally sound, the building simply needed to be converted to smaller units. Wanting Izabella’s opinion before he began writing his notes, they returned to the front hall.
“It’s a well-built structure,” Stewart informed her. He sat on the sofa and shifted his body toward her. “You must tell me your vision.”
“I’m not an architect. I don’t possess the ability to vision my home any other way,” she admitted. “I have faith in your ability. My hope is to own a house that I, that we, would be proud to live in.”
“My mind is bursting with ideas. I’m certain you shall be pleased.”
“Stewart. I recall my conversation with Charles when you worked on the stores. Although he was thrilled with the results, he was surprised by the low estimate. “I was informed it was low given the workmanship expected and the difficulties working around a running business.”
Stewart recalled the contract vividly in his mind. “Were you informed of the arrangement Greg negotiated on behalf of Vicki and Hope?”
Izabella shook her head.
“Greg negotiated, for our family, lifetime discounts for purchases within the mall,” Stewart stated proudly. “Charles was pleased to oblige, and both Greg and I were thrilled knowing Hope and Vicki’s appreciation for shopping. The discounted bill arrives monthly to our personal attention.”
“Vicki is one of my better clients. And your momma shops as well,” Izabella admitted. “I know they patronize other businesses that are owned by the Herman Corporation. We have one central accounting department for the business. The boutique sends invoices with the retail and final prices. I’ve never felt the need to inquire about discounts that Charles arranged. I doubt there are many.” She took a breath. “I will expect to see an estimate, Stewart.”
Stubborn. Stewart’s attention shifted to the sky. Apparently I’m attracted to that quality. “You shall hear from my associate, Greg, with an estimate, Mrs. Herrmann,” he replied.
Izabella reached up and gently kissed him.
“I’m looking forward to working closely with the owner of this home,” Stewart admitted. He knew his eyes were sparkling.
“Do not mix business with pleasure, Mr. Donovan,” she instructed in a mocking tone.
“I shall be mixing business with a great deal of pleasure.”
He placed his forefinger under her chin, closed his eyes, and kissed her.
* * *
When the two large two-bedroom apartments were complete, Stewart took Izabella on a private tour. Later that day, she showed the renovated apartments to associates of Charles and was signing lease agreements within the month. The associates were simply informed she would be moving to a smaller home.
* * *
Hope loved life at the orphanage from the moment they moved in. Just as his parents had done years earlier, Adam and Hope relieved his parents of some of their responsibilities. Adam managed the adoption paperwork and reviewed the doctor’s notes regarding the birth of each baby. Hope took over the financials.
Hope sat at the smaller desk in the office, a ray of sunlight shining on her paperwork.
“Are we able to pay this month’s invoices, Mrs. Venderkemp?” Adam asked, glancing up from the paperwork in front of him.
“I find myself amazed by the donations,” Hope admitted. “Thankful, but amazed.”
“As is Momma. The townsfolk in the area appreciate our efforts.” Sitting upright, he stretched his back and yawned. “I’m craving fresh air. We’ve been staring at these walls half the day.”
That was an exaggeration, but Hope appreciated his desire to go outside. Standing, Adam extended his hand and led his wife out of the room, outside, and right into a small throng of children.
“Adam, we’re organizing a game of ball. Do you wish to join us?”
“You’re not playing without me,” Hope stated. She walked toward the children.
By the expression on the young boy’s face, he had not expected Hope to join them now that she was a married woman.
“Mrs. Venderkemp?”
Not expecting the formal greeting, Hope turned her attention to the young boy. “You are not referring to us as Adam and Mrs. Venderkemp,” she lectured. “Adam’s momma is currently in the building and she is Mrs. Venderkemp. I will be pleased to respond when I hear the name Hope.”
The young boy looked around and shrugged his shoulders. “You are joining us, Hope?”
“Indeed I am,” she responded.
The children were separated into teams. Both Adam and Hope had a wonderful afternoon playing baseball. When Izabella returned home from the boutique, she sat under a tree, keeping track of the score, and informing the children when they were up to bat. Stewart joined Izabella when he returned from work, watched the game and cheered on the children. Exhausted from their paperwork, fresh air, and exercise, Adam and Hope retired to their room once the children were settled for the evening.
* * *
With the renovation to Izabella’s home complete, Greg refocused his attention on profitable projects. It was discouraging, they hadn’t heard from the owner of the hotel. He didn’t win every contract he negotiated but had wanted that particular one very badly. Stewart had just persuaded Greg to move on, to forget it, when they received a telegram. The entrepreneur would be in the area for a couple of days and wished to meet with all representatives of companies that were bidding.
Stewart had a two hour meeting with the gentleman in his mid-fifties. Exhausted, when the owner left, Stewart’s mind overflowed with ideas.
The day before the negotiation, Greg and Stewart had a closed door discussion to go over the estimated cost in detail. Leaving nothing to chance, they realized the competition would be fierce. They knew the minimum bid Greg could negotiate to make a profit for the company.
Stewart was filing papers into his desk, preparing to leave for the day, when Greg appeared at his office door. Not expecting to see to see his brother-in-law until the following morning, Stewart’s mind drifted to the meeting with the owner. I was too confident. Perhaps I came across as arrogant or aggressive. Mr. Macintosh declined my company’s bid before Greg entered the building. Overcome with shame, he looked up at Greg.
“I did not expect to see you until tomorrow,” Stewart admitted.
“Vicki will also be surprised. I expected both her and Matthew to be sleeping when I returned. I shall see my son before our meal and assist with his bedtime routine.”
“You must not leave me in suspense. I felt our price was reasonable given the quality expected. Was the grievance with me personally?”
Greg’s grin lit his face. He beamed with pride. It didn’t make any sense to Stewart.
“Not at all, in fact, quite the opposite. Once we began speaking, it was my opinion they were impressed by you. I don’t believe our competitors were taken seriously, but were interviewed in order to follow proper protocol.”
Elated, Stewart’s eyes began to sparkle. “This project is an architect’s dream,” he boasted. “We have yet to construct a building of this magnitude.”
“You have established a reputation, boss.”
“I must ask. What price did you agree upon?”
Greg opened his briefcase, removed a piece of paper, and slid it across the table. Allowing his eyes to drift down the page, Stewart saw the quote. He blinked and stared at the number, his jaw dropping, unable to believe his own eyes.
“This amount never entered our private discussions. They would be fools to agree to such an exorbitant price.”
Greg leaned over the desk and res
ted his fingers by the signatures. Speechless, Stewart’s gaze shifted up to Greg. His brother-in-law beamed with pride. The profit margin would be astronomical.
“They admire your work and are paying for the privilege of employing your company. They wish to see a model to scale and a shovel in the ground within three months,” Greg informed him.
Unable to speak, Stewart nodded.
* * *
Three months after Adam and Hope moved into the orphanage, Adam’s parents announced their intention to move. Taking advantage of the large anonymous personal donation that Stewart had left in the mail, they found a small home, a mile from the business they once owned. After over twenty years of managing the affairs for the children, they were looking forward to the tranquillity their new home would offer. Hope would miss her in-laws but looked forward to the freedom to manage without their input.
Her father and Izabella shared their home, but with both working outside the building, they were not a visible presence.
Hope found the combination of the orphanage paperwork, bookkeeping duties for her father’s business, and spending time with the children exhausting and challenging, but rewarding. There weren’t enough hours in the day. Uncle Marcus arrived regularly with his wife, the daughter of a duke, their two teenaged daughters, and Nanny. They enjoyed their visits although Nanny tired easily from the commotion.
Izabella found the new lifestyle equally satisfying. She cherished her time with the children and enjoyed going to Stewart’s former home for visits with Vicki, Greg, and Matthew. Slowly, she found herself scheduling less and less time at the boutique to spend time with her extended family.
When Vicki informed Stewart she was ready to resume her role as bookkeeper for his business, Hope handed over the boxes of files with a smile on her face.
* * *
Twice a week, Stewart arrived at Vicki’s to deliver the mail and retrieve cheques for payroll and invoice payment. He cherished his playtime with his young nephew.
Stewart entered his former home and sat on the area rug with Matthew on his lap. Vicki took her seat on the chair.
“It is pleasing to see Hope followed my system, but I have not located vital information for the orphanage. I’m able to trace the paid bills to the suppliers and the wages, but I do not see partial or final payment from our client, the orphanage. I find myself perplexed, knowing Hope’s attention to detail. Has she encountered a problem getting the money from her trust fund?”
Keeping his eyes on his young nephew, Stewart recalled the number of times Hope requested information to process the bill. Being the master of procrastination, he had only given lame excuses. “Hope was not informed of the fee I’m charging her, the orphanage,” he admitted.
“You have procrastinated long enough,” Vicki lectured. “I will not allow this project to remain outstanding on this business’s account. I cannot imagine Hope’s frustration.”
“Perhaps I have made an error allowing you to return as the bookkeeper,” Stewart responded to his bossy sister.
“Stewart.”
“Hope is my daughter.” He touched Matthew’s toes. Giggles filled the room. “It was an honour designing and building their home. It’s difficult putting a price on such a privilege.”
“I’m listening for instructions,” she reminded him, impatiently. “You are not leaving this building until you inform me of your wishes.”
Rolling his eyes, he considered the project. He received substantial volume discounts from his suppliers, but the premium products were expensive. He couldn’t even consider the wages.
“Prepare the invoice according to my cost for the supplies. I do not wish to make a profit on the material.”
“I was anticipating that response. We must discuss a fee for the labour,” Vicki reminded him.
His mind drifted to his daughter. Hope wasn’t stupid, but how could a father charge his own daughter for labour? The wages were astronomical, but something he could afford. Something his company could afford.
“Stewart, do you require a list of the crew and the hourly wages? You hired additional men to assist with that project.”
“Having signed weekly payroll cheques during the renovation, I’m well aware of that,” he responded, keeping his eyes glued to his nephew. He stared into space, contemplating. After a long silence, he looked at his sister. “Prepare a document, invoicing Stewart Donovan. I will personally pay the wages from my own resources.”
“Stewart. The fee for the supplies is minimal compared to the labour. Hope is aware of that fact.”
“That building has become my home,” he reminded her, defending his decision. “I intend to own a piece of it.”
“Your private quarters barely constitute a quarter of the addition. Hope is expecting to pay for the labour.”
“No.”
“Then I shall split the fee for labour between you and Greg. Compensation for the home we received from you.”
Stewart glared at his sister, infuriated by the suggestion. “You will do no such thing. Put that money toward your son’s university education.”
“Ste-wart!”
“Vicki. Do not hand me a document that I will question,” Stewart warned. “I shall become miserable and cranky. Izabella will not forgive you.”
“You were never this stubborn in your youth,” she responded angrily.
Little Matthew looked up at his momma, his green eyes questioning the slightly raised voices. It was not his intent to upset Vicki, but his mind was made up. This was the right thing to do.
“Hope will be using the money from her trust fund, Vicki. Without an idea of the value, how am I to charge her for the project?”
“Stewart, you’re not a fool. Natasha’s mother paid heavily for the privilege of seeing her granddaughter grow up. Over the years, the value must have increased proportionately.”
Staring toward Matthew, Stewart recalled the day he saw the dollar value that Natasha demanded for his personal use. The sum set in accordance to Natasha’s will. Although he was certain Hope’s trust fund was substantial, he still questioned the value she received. He didn’t possess the nerve to ask either Hope or Nanny, even knowing either would be happy to tell him.
“My apologies. I normally avoid the topic knowing it causes you pain, but Hope shall certainly let you know her opinion.”
“I shall inform my daughter it was a belated wedding gift. I beg of you. Use discretion when preparing the bill. It cannot be obvious the invoice doesn’t include a fee for the labour.” He stood, preparing to leave.
“Are you enjoying your life in your new home?” Vicki asked her brother.
Knowing his sister, she didn’t want their day to end with an argument, a fact he appreciated. They had always shared a close bond, something he never wanted to lose. The twinkle returned to his eyes.
“Indeed I am. It’s bringing back wonderful, happy memories of my youth with Natasha. I cherish every moment with the children, Hope, Adam, and Izabella.”
“It’s pleasing to hear you’re content, but I admit I miss both you and Hope. Izabella will not complain in my presence, but is she adjusting to her new lifestyle?”
“More than I expected. More than I hoped. She hasn’t spent a full day at the boutique since moving. She enjoys being in the company of the children.”
* * *
Returning home after work the following day, Stewart entered the orphanage lobby. Looking into the office, he saw Hope sitting at her desk with Adam looking over her shoulder.
“Good afternoon,” he greeted. He placed the invoice Vicki had prepared on the edge of the desk and turned to leave.
“Poppa!”
Lacking the heart to ignore her, he stopped and turned around.
“This cannot be accurate.”
He shrugged his shoulders, wishing for the ability to avoid the discussion. “I’m simply the messenger,” he stated, hoping for a quick exit.
“Poppa, this is not acceptable. I’m wishing I had receiv
ed quotes and hired competitors,” she grumbled.
“You would not be as pleased with the quality or the workmanship.”
“As your client, I demand to see a breakdown. I expect to see the actual labour hours and the fee for supplies. I expect to see the detail I prepared for your clients.”
Why in heavens name did I allow Hope to cover while Vicki was off?
“Inform Aunt Vicki she must complete the form properly,” Hope demanded.
He glanced at Adam. His son-in-law stared at his desk, remaining silent. Stewart turned his attention back to Hope. “As my daughter, I’m not allowing you to see that information.”
“Your daughter didn’t hire you. The managers of this orphanage hired Stewart Donovan Contracting and Engineering. As your employee for a few months, I prepared invoices and expect to see a proper document billing the Venderkemp Orphanage.”
Stewart shifted his attention, looking around the room.
“This has become my home,” he stated, keeping his tone soft. “I’m proud and honoured to share it with my daughter, my son-in-law, and the woman who worked her way deep into my heart. I believe I now own a very small portion of this establishment.” Pointing at the dollar value, he continued. “Mrs. Carson would appreciate having the account settled.”
Adam reached over and gripped Hope’s hand.
* * *
Her father walked out of the office, infuriating Hope. “Adam, I beg of you, you must speak with him,” she pleaded.
Adam released her hand, raised his hands over his head and shook his head. “No. I’m not in the habit of initiating an argument I cannot win. I admire and respect your poppa. Living in the same building, I wish to keep the rapport we have established.”
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