Love in a Victorian

by Lisa Norato

She’d been in his thoughts the entire week he’d been away negotiating a contract in Paris. Jamie had cared for Boo Boo in his absence, reassuring him with texts and keeping him abreast of progress on the restoration.

  Ceilings had been resurfaced, kitchen cabinets painted, and soapstone countertops installed. Structural work on the fireplace was complete, awaiting the placement of a cast iron fire chamber. Decorative tiles would eventually be laid in vertical columns between the fire chamber and wooden mantelpiece. Jamie had emailed him samples, trying to match the original.

  What would you choose if it were your house? he’d texted from across the Atlantic.

  She had helped him decide on a replica of an antique design, classic Victorian yet not overdone. Raised summer flowers on a tan tile. They were in keeping with the original color scheme yet made for a tasteful upgrade. Gran would have approved.

  After a shower and shave, he fed Boo Boo, then sat down at the antique dinette Jamie had so beautifully refinished with his own breakfast of cold cereal. Afterwards, he carried his empty bowl to the farm sink, unable to keep from admiring his new kitchen yet again. That was when he noticed something he hadn’t before−a decorative touch within the new backsplash. That Jamie. His smile widened at the thought of her. One way or another she’d left her stamp in every room, and it was her homey design touches that made it all feel so right — his decision to move back into his boyhood home.

  He couldn’t go anywhere in the house without thinking of Jamie and being reminded of how comfortable she had made his home. The project was moving closer and closer to completion, and then she’d move on to her next job and out of his life. What then? What would his life be without her?

  He hadn’t given her the news about Vera, although he’d wanted to. It just hadn’t seemed an appropriate topic of conversation while he’d been away. He did, however, grow tired of the formality of their exchanges and texted, Do you miss me? (smiley face emoji).

  She had responded evasively. Don’t know if that question was meant for me or Boo Boo, but she’s fine, and my crew and I are enjoying having the house to ourselves. Reminds us of the days before you showed up with your air mattress and stole my lunch (laughing face emoji).

  Not the personal response he’d been hoping for.

  He was really looking forward to seeing her by the time he arrived at the principal’s office of Elm’s Elementary. A small group of adult professionals filled the reception area. Heads turned to assess the newcomer, but not Jamie’s. She stood deep in conversation with a police officer, and the easy, familiar way she smiled up at him was enough to sour Rick’s excitement.

  He couldn’t imagine Jamie being so easily charmed by a uniform. Then again, what did he know? They seemed well acquainted. How many men had she invited today? Oh, that’s right! She hadn’t invited Rick. Her mother had.

  “You must be Attorney Damien. Thank you for participating in our program today.” A sophisticated middle-aged blonde woman approached, extending her hand. “I’m Principal Stratton.”

  As they shook hands, Rick expressed his pleasure to be visiting his alma mater. “This is a much nicer experience than the last time I was called to this office. I wasn’t exactly a favorite of Principal Carr’s, but he did know me by name.”

  Principal Stratton smiled knowingly. “I see. Well, it’s always my pleasure to welcome an alumni as a career day speaker, no matter their disciplinary record. Given your career choice, am I safe in assuming you’ve developed a healthy respect for following rules?”

  Rick grinned. “I have, Principal Stratton, but sometimes it’s good to have a reminder of where you came from.”

  “Mrs. Stratton! Mrs. Stratton! I have to go home right away. I can’t get any work done today because I can’t concentrate.”

  The kid appeared out of nowhere. Rick opened his mouth to respond, and there he was, standing between Rick and the principal, scratching his dark head like crazy.

  Rick backed up while Principal Stratton leaned down. “What’s the problem, Ethan?

  “My head’s too itchy. I have to go home.”

  Rick retreated another couple of steps.

  “Well, Ethan, do you think you could go back to class for just a little while and try to get some work done? Just for the morning and then at lunchtime if you still can’t work, you can go home.”

  The kid scratched diligently, deep in thought. Rick didn’t need to think about it. She’s actually sending him back to class? He hated to tell the principal her job, but he felt it a lot safer for everyone if she sent Ethan home and was about to suggest as much.

  Principal Stratton regarded his horrified expression with a smile. “I know what you’re thinking. No, it’s not lice. Believe me, I’ve seen this countless times. If it were lice, they’d all have it. It’s never just one.”

  Rick took the woman at her word and relaxed. He glanced over at Jamie, who grinned and gave him a discreet wave. Rick’s heart gave an uplifting thrust at the twinkle in her sweet, dark eyes. She had missed him. Or had she? The police officer smiled along with her. Maybe they were having a laugh at his expense. He should have gotten here sooner. He blamed Boo Boo. There was something about that soft, furry body warming his brow that had lured him back to sleep. He lived walking distance from the school and still had been last to arrive, missing his chance to talk to Jamie before the program. Before that cop had gotten to her first.

  “Come along, Ethan,” Principal Stratton said. “We’ll walk back to class with you. You wouldn’t want to miss career day, would you? It looks like Attorney Damien has brought presents.”

  Rick gave the boy a peek into the bag of Rochford Industries marketing merchandise he’d brought for the children. Ethan glanced up at him, eyes bright. Rick reached inside and handed the child a frog-shaped stress ball. The squeezing seemed to distract Ethan from his itch, and Rick followed the boy and his principal out of the office.

  It looked like he’d have to wait for his chance to talk to Jamie. Rick didn’t like waiting. It made him uncomfortable. Other than impersonal texts, he hadn’t spoken to her in over a week, and the last time he’d seen her he’d told her Vera was his girlfriend, which wasn’t true. He’d purposely put distance between himself and Jamie because he’d felt overcome by the great day they’d shared together.

  Stupid. What did she think of him? Did she even care? His head felt itchy.

  Miss Meredith’s first grade class proved to be an eager audience with plenty of questions.

  After the officer, a dog groomer, and journalist had all addressed the class, Jamie took the floor, a fully loaded tool belt weighing down her feminine hips. In girly pink skinny jeans and scuffed work boots, she spoke about being a woman in a male-dominated field. She offered encouragement to the six-year-olds to pursue their dreams no matter what obstacles came their way.

  “What makes a restoration contractor special is that we work on really old houses. We make them beautiful again, like they were at the time they were first built. You might look at an old house and think, ‘yuck, why not just tear it down?’ Well, that would be a shame. Because when I look at an old house, I see its character and history. Sort of like our grandmas or grandpas. They might look a little weathered on the outside, but on the inside, we know the very special people they are, don’t we?” Jamie nodded, causing many of the children to nod in response.

  “Every piece of damaged or rotted wood is part of a house’s story. It’s my job to repair that wood with new materials in a way that blends with the original structure to keep the house as it was designed. But not only houses have stories. Tools do, too,” she said, pulling out the oldest hammer Rick had ever seen. “If it could talk, this hammer could tell you of all the houses it has built through four generations.”

  Rick couldn’t speak for the students, but she had him convinced. Why had he never learned to be handy? He’d changed a light bulb here and there, but Gran always called on a neighbor whenever something needed to be fixed. She’d had to nag Rick to m
ow the lawn.

  Jamie allowed the hammer to be passed around the room. “It once belonged to my great grandfather,” she explained. “You can see where he carved his initials on the handle when he was a young builder. Later, he passed it on to his son, my grandfather. My grandfather passed it to my father, and my father gave it to me the day I first started working for him.”

  What would the next generation of Kearly contractors be like? Rick wondered. Perhaps another little girl with dark Mediterranean eyes and full, determined lips. Was he actually imagining Jamie with a child? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? He had to stop. He’d even noticed she’d acquired a new flannel shirt for the occasion. One with pink tones to match her jeans.

  Geesh. He didn’t want a serious relationship. He wasn’t made for commitment. He had a demanding career, lots of world travel on his company’s private jet, exposure to diverse cultures including interesting women of all nations. In fact, he’d met a lovely British redhead in Paris at a business dinner. She had given him her card so he could call on her the next time he was in London. He had no idea what he’d done with it. Probably dropped it somewhere while he’d been busy texting Jamie.

  He had recently been dumped by a smart, gorgeous woman he’d been dating for months. Why wasn’t he more upset about that? He couldn’t remember ever being dumped. At the very least, his ego should be bruised, but he hadn’t thought of Vera in days.

  It was Jamie he couldn’t get out of his head. Would she have him if he made his interest known?

  Vera had made her point. Rick couldn’t even attempt to start something with Jamie unless he was prepared to give himself completely to a relationship. He wouldn’t want to disappoint Jamie the way he had Vera. He wouldn’t hurt Jamie for the world.

  “We have one last speaker,” Miss Meredith announced, distracting Rick from his thoughts. “Class, say hello to Mr. Damien. He’s going to tell us what it’s like to be a lawyer.”

  *

  “Miss Kearly and her tools are a tough act to follow, but I’ll do my best.”

  Jamie’s heart fluttered as Rick turned to her with a wink before re-addressing the class. They eyed him in his dark business suit with no props and gave him a bored stare. The little girl seated directly before him yawned. Ethan, the boy with the itchy head, looked like trouble. Any moment now Jamie expected Ethan would burrow his stubby fingers in that cap of dark brown curls.

  What had her mother gotten Rick into? Why should she feel for him? He was a grown man. A professional. With a girlfriend. Not her problem. And yet it had stung the way he’d introduced Vera as his girlfriend to her and Dorie, even though Jamie had already known he was in a relationship. She’d been foolish to imagine anything happening between them. What had gotten into her that day? Even Dorie had sensed romance in the air. Nope. Nada. Silly, really. Jamie couldn’t let herself fall for a guy Stella had picked for her. It would be too pathetic.

  The fifth and last speaker of the day, Rick had only the tail end of the students’ attention spans to work with, yet he remained confident and relaxed before them, totally unrattled in all his white collar perfection. Jamie experienced an unwelcomed weakness in her knees.

  “As Miss Meredith said, I’m a lawyer. Hopefully, none of you have ever needed a lawyer, so let me explain what lawyers do. Do you know how sometimes you have a problem and have a hard time explaining to people what’s wrong? You get nervous and can’t think of what to say. Well, that’s what a lawyer does. A lawyer speaks for you. Sometimes it’s a little scary to stand before the judge. You have to be prepared and know what you’re going to say beforehand. A lawyer gathers all the information about your problem and goes over every detail. When you step into the courtroom, he knows exactly what to say and does the talking for you.”

  The young students inclined their heads. “Does anyone here know what a courtroom looks like?” he asked. “Have any of you ever watched Judge Judy?”

  Several hands raised.

  With the teacher’s permission, he engaged the children in moving their desks into a courtroom setup. Miss Meredith’s desk was the judge’s bench. A chair beside it served as the witness stand. Three desks were pushed together for the prosecution table on the right, three more to the left for the defense. He assigned each student a job within the courtroom, explaining briefly the purpose of each, from court reporter to deputy to the twelve members of the jury.

  He wrapped up by saying, “I hope you guys have gotten more out of this than the fun of disrupting your classroom. Maybe even one or two of you will consider law when you’re ready to think about a career. Does anyone have a question?”

  “Can you get my mom out of jail?”

  Miss Meredith stepped forward with a shake of her head. “Logan, you know very well your mother is not in jail.”

  “She says working for her boss is like being in prison.”

  “You know that’s not the same thing, Logan. Now, does someone have a real question?”

  A small hand shot up. “Were you nervous on your first case?”

  Rick nodded. “My first case was to talk a judge out a traffic ticket for my client, and yes, I was very nervous.”

  “How much do you weigh?” another child called out.

  “Do I have to answer that?” Rick appealed to Miss Meredith.

  She shook her head with a smile.

  “How much money do you make?”

  Jamie felt a nudge, followed by a deep, low chuckle in her ear. “Looks like your friend has actually pulled it off.”

  “He’s not my friend, Aaron,” she whispered back. Aaron, as a police sergeant, was a regular, annual Elm’s Elementary career day participant like her. “Attorney Damien is a client of mine. Ours is a professional relationship.”

  “Okay. Whatever you say, but the black look he gave me when he walked into Principal Stratton’s office and saw us together would indicate otherwise. And since when do you invite clients into your personal life?”

  Jamie frowned. She hadn’t noticed any look. And she didn’t have a good answer to Aaron’s question other than blaming her mother. Which wasn’t really fair, because in reality she knew it was her own fault for being stupid enough to let herself indulge in any form of affection for Richard Damien. It was those feelings, unwanted as they were, that had made her look at the beautiful Victorian that could have been hers in a different light. Instead of only seeing what it offered, she now realized what it would have lacked had she won the sale.

  Someone to share it with.

  “Some lawyers earn a lot of money, but it’s not always about the money,” Rick was telling the class in response to the last question. “A lawyer is in a position to help others less fortunate. I work for a very successful company, and every year they receive requests for charitable donations. The most fun part of my job is to help them decide how and where to give back to the community. I investigate each charity and learn about what they do, so I can go back to the Board and suggest what I think are the best places where their donations can do the most good.”

  Aaron nudged her again. “Aw, how sweet. Did your eyes go all soft just now or was that my imagination?”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “No talking please,” Miss Meredith reprimanded.

  Jamie blushed just as Rick turned around to witness her shame. And there was that grin of his. Oh, great. He wasn’t going to let her live this down. She’d have some explaining to do over lunch. And she’d have to eat with him alone. After class, Aaron would be heading back to the station.

  “I’ve brought some gifts. Who needs a good pen?” Rick asked the class. “Because no matter what you choose to do in life, you’ll always need a good pen.”

  *

  Jamie bit into her grilled turkey and cheese sandwich. Rick sat opposite her at a cafeteria table. He stared at her with a deeply serious look as if he had something to say. “What?”

  “Nothing.” He pointed to his lunch tray with a plastic fork.
“Where else can you get orange popcorn chicken with rice and a side of kale Caesar salad for two fifty? Right?”

  “Actually, our lunches were free. Or, I suppose you could say, a two dollars and fifty cents allowance for a speaking engagement.” Jamie sipped her chocolate almond milk from a straw. What was up with him? Rick had been weird — lost in his own thoughts — all through the tour of the new school library and then during their wait in the lunch line and subsequent search for an out of the fray place to sit.

  “You did a great job, by the way,” she added. “That was clever, arranging the desks into a courtroom setup. You really got those kids involved.”

  He shrugged off the compliment. “What were you and your police buddy whispering about in the corner? You two looked cozy. Is he a friend of yours?”

  Jamie nodded. Setting down her sandwich, she wiped her hands on a paper napkin. “I’ve known Aaron for years.”

  If Rick wasn’t romantically involved with a gorgeous local celebrity, she might think he was jealous, but that clearly couldn’t be. More like just nosy.

  Rick took the hint she had no intention of expanding on her relationship with Aaron. Not that there was much to tell. She and Aaron had both begun participating in Miss Meredith’s career day a few years ago. As first-timers, they’d been nervous, offering each other moral support and striking up a comradery of sorts. Jamie had done some minor construction work on Aaron’s house, and he occasionally took his family to Bellucci’s.

  Averting his gaze, Rick stabbed up a forkful of kale. “Speaking of doing a great job, I got the best surprise this morning as I was drinking my coffee.” His blue eyes found hers and held her with what felt like sweet affection. “I found the tiles you salvaged from the fireplace deconstruction.” His grin grew. “They had been cleverly inserted among the subway tile of the new kitchen backsplash. It looks fantastic. I love it, Jamie. I really do. The combination of old and new. You preserved a piece of the Victorian’s history and salvaged a precious memory from my childhood that I’ll be reminded of every time I enter my kitchen. I don’t know how to thank you.”