by Lisa Norato
“You can thank me by enjoying your new home.” Jamie reveled in the satisfaction of a job well done. “I purposely didn’t tell you what I intended to do. I wanted to leave it as a surprise.”
He grinned. “I got that.”
“It’s a relief to know you like it. I’d hate to have to redo the backsplash.”
“Are you kidding? Not like it? It’s awesome. Thank you,” he added softly.
“You’re welcome.”
She felt an urge to reach across the table and comb the cowlick off his brow. He had such gorgeous hair. Thick and brown, it shone with health. What was she thinking?
Jamie speared a chunk of melon from her fruit salad and chewed thoughtfully. “How does it feel to be back at Elm’s Elementary? Sitting in the cafeteria where your grandmother once worked must stir up a lot of memories for you.”
“It does. Not just memories of Gran, but friends I lost touch with when she passed and my mom moved me to Texas. One of my best friends, John, lived next door to me. He eventually went on to law school, married and has his own practice right here in town. We reconnected when I began working for Rochford. It’s great to have him back in my life, but coming here today has brought to mind others I often wonder about. Did you know I had a sweetheart in elementary school?” he added with a twinkle in his blue eyes.
“Why am I not surprised?” Intrigued, she leaned forward. “So, what was she like?”
“Samantha Banks. She was very sweet and the prettiest girl in class.”
“Let me guess. Tall, long blonde hair, blue eyes.”
He gave her a curious frown. “How’d you—”
“Just a hunch. Go on.”
“She moved to Elm’s Corner in the fifth grade. When our teacher asked for a volunteer to guide Samantha around the school, my hand was the first raised. I made a point to greet her every morning and smiled at her a lot, but it wasn’t until sixth grade that I worked up the nerve to engage her in a conversation longer than my usual, ‘Hi, Samantha.’”
Jamie slurped another gulp of chocolate milk. “I have such a hard time imagining any sort of shyness in you.”
The dimple at the corner of his mouth engaged. He had such a handsome smile.
“I wasn’t assigned to any of her classes in middle school, so I tried out for football because she was a cheerleader. In high school, I joined the theater program to be around her. I didn’t actually ask her to a school dance until sophomore year.”
Jamie put down her half-eaten sandwich. Wow. Tall, beautiful, blonde starlets. It had been established. Rick definitely had a type and she wasn’t it.
“And that’s about the time my gran passed and my mom moved me to Texas,” he added. “Coming here today has made me wonder, not so much about Samantha, but what life might have been if Gran hadn’t died so soon. If my mother had been a real mom to me. Sorry, I don’t know why I told you all that.”
“You probably needed to tell someone. Memories were bound to overwhelm you once you moved back into the home of your childhood. Maybe giving voice to the sadness and disappointments of the past is just what you needed to move forward.”
He’d been pushing kale around his plate but stopped to gaze into her eyes with a smile. “Thanks,” he said with a nod. “That’s just what I needed to hear.”
“And who needs Samantha Banks when you’ve got Vera Andersen? Though I can’t help noticing Vera seems suspiciously like an upgraded, adult version of your childhood sweetheart. You haven’t been mooning over Samantha all these years, have you? Trying to find her in the other women you’ve dated?”
“What? Absolutely not.” He laughed, a little self-consciously. “I have not been mooning over anyone. Turns out I wasn’t meant to be with Samantha any more than I belong with Vera. We’re over,” he announced and then, to Jamie’s great surprise, proceeded to tell her what happened between them after Jamie left his Victorian the Saturday they’d gone shopping together.
So that was why he’d seemed distant today. He was heartbroken. Temporarily. Jamie understood him better now. Her heart sank at the realization, even though she’d never really had any romantic expectations for Rick and herself. He fell for beautiful women but didn’t moon over anyone. One way or another life took him away onto something new, and being the independent man he was, he moved along with it, leaving behind one romance for the next adventure. In a way, all Samantha and Vera had been to him were conquests. Women he enjoyed being with but didn’t love. He’d never been in love. He wasn’t one who valued commitment.
Chapter Eleven
Late in the afternoon, deep in a meeting with Rochford Industries’ Board of Directors, Rick felt the vibration of his cell phone. He never took calls during meetings. President Dale Rochford had just announced his company’s sizeable donation to the St. Agnes Food Pantry and Health Center to a round of applause. The decision had been based on Rick’s research and recommendation. In a couple of weeks, representing Rochford, Rick would be presenting a check at St. Agnes’s annual black tie fundraiser. This was an important moment for him. Still, for whatever reason, he couldn’t resist a peek at the display of his cell from under the conference table.
It was Jamie calling. He knew it. He’d had a feeling. Or maybe he’d been hoping she’d call. So, why was she calling? She never called him at work. She sent emails or texts. Something was wrong. Boo Boo? No. Nothing was wrong. Why was he jumping to conclusions? They’d had a nice conversation in the Elm’s Elementary cafeteria last week over a school lunch. It had been fun. Rick always enjoyed her company. Truth was, he longed for more. Maybe she did too.
Maybe, now she knew he wasn’t seeing anyone, she was making an effort to show her interest.
The Board had moved on to a more serious topic and a colleague to his right gave Rick a puzzled look. Rick realized he was grinning. He never should have looked at his phone. Now Jamie would be stuck in his head, distracting him, throughout the rest of the meeting.
An hour later, back in his office, he returned her call.
“I thought this deserved a call so I could give you the news personally,” she said. He leaned forward, elbows braced on his desk as he listened for her next words.
“Renovations are now complete. Sean and I installed the custom mantelpiece with the mirror today, and your Victorian fireplace is now in full working order and ready to go. It’s beautiful, Rick. It makes the room,” she added excitedly.
“I can’t wait to see it.” Business. A business call.
“With a little creativity, you’ll be able to furnish the room to create the hominess of your grandmother’s sitting room and still be proud to call it a man cave. I’m going to be here a bit longer cleaning up, but after that the house is all yours. We’ll finally be out of your hair.”
Rick couldn’t think fast enough of all he wanted to say and whether or not he should say it. This was it, then. She was leaving. Maybe he could find another project for her. He didn’t want Jamie out of his hair.
He sensed her hesitation on the other end of the line.
“I’ve sent my crew home, but I could hang around, if you don’t expect to be home late. We could light the fireplace together,” she offered. “I wouldn’t mind seeing it with a roaring fire and how the light reflects around the room.”
The heaviness in his chest lifted. Leaning back, Rick swung his office chair around for a view of the historic Providence skyline and smiled. “I’ll leave early and meet you there in an hour. We’ll make a celebration of it.”
Before leaving the office, he called in an order at his favorite Chinese restaurant, which he stopped to pick up on his way home, along with a bottle of champagne.
Merging into traffic on the Route 6-10 connector, his thoughts wandered. He would spread a blanket on the floor, picnic style. They’d laugh over their sloppy attempts to eat lo mien with chopsticks and read the predictions of their fortune cookies aloud. Sip champagne. Gaze into each other’s eyes.
Jamie’s van was parked in the str
eet when he arrived. He activated the garage door opener as he pulled in his driveway, then slipped his BMW between the clutter of unpacked boxes, garden tools, and newly installed shelving. He really needed to organize the mess that was his garage.
The evening was cold and dank. Half-frozen leaves crunched under his Italian oxford shoes. A fire would be just the thing to chase away the chill. The warm smell of dinner rose from the takeout bag. He climbed the steps to his porch, noticing movement behind the etched glass of his front door.
It opened for him and there stood Jamie with Boo Boo comfortably slumped like a rag doll in her arms.
“Hi,” he said.
He gave his little gray a scratch behind the ears, but his smile was for Jamie. Her dark brown hair was pulled in a disheveled ponytail beneath the tattered ball cap. One corner of her fleece-lined flannel shirt hung out of her dusty jeans, its cuffs rolled up over a gold Henley. He couldn’t imagine a more beautiful, welcoming sight.
Standing this close, he felt the attraction full force. He didn’t understand when it had happened or why she affected him so, but something about Jamie Kearly clicked with him.
“Hi,” she said. “We got you a housewarming present.” She drew his attention to a bronze plaque mounted by the front door. He hadn’t noticed it because he’d been so focused on her.
It read “circa 1887” with the address engraved below, “28 Grange Avenue.”
He needed a moment. A lump had formed in his throat. This was so unexpected. So kind. “It’s perfect, Jamie. Thank you. Gosh, I don’t know what to say. You’ve gone above and beyond with this, when you’ve done so much for me already. I wouldn’t have this beautiful home if not for you. I’m not sure I deserve you, but I do recognize that I am one lucky man. I couldn’t have asked for a more capable, talented, or magnanimous forewoman.”
“You’re very welcome.” She stepped aside and he entered the foyer, closing the door behind him.
“It’s been both a challenge and a pleasure,” she said, and he caught the blush of pride in her smile. “A historic home should have a proper plaque. I’d feel my job was unfinished if I left the job without seeing this Victorian’s architectural history memorialized.”
She lowered Boo Boo to the floor, and his cat wove her supple body between his legs in welcome.
Jamie, meanwhile, was already making her way down the hall and called behind her, “I know you’re anxious to see the replica of your grandmother’s mantelpiece.”
“I’ve been waiting for this from the moment we met.” He followed her into the kitchen where he set his bundles on the center island and shrugged out of his coat. Reaching into one of the bags, he pulled out a bottle of champagne. “So, I decided the occasion deserved to be honored. In fact, I had an idea. If you don’t have somewhere to be, I thought we could—”
“Champagne, great.” The towering blond Jameson Kearly entered the kitchen from the back of the house, nearly causing Rick to drop the bottle.
“Hey, Rick.” Beaming, he offered Rick his hand in his usual gregarious manner and they shook. “Usually, I take my little girl out for ice cream to celebrate the completion of a job,” he ribbed, smiling at his daughter, “but champagne is a better choice. She really topped herself with this project. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.” He reached his daughter in a few strides and pulled her close in a one-armed hug, her cheek squished against his flannel-clad chest. “Rick lucked out when I sprained my ankle.”
“Dad.” She pushed him off affectionately.
Chuckling, he grabbed her again and kissed the top of her head. “You were there when I needed you. You didn’t want to, but you put aside your personal feelings and stepped in for your old man.” Turning to Rick, he added, “I had to come today and inspect the finished work. I think I may have to acknowledge the hard truth my daughter has grown into the better restoration contractor.”
“I don’t know about that, Dad, but thanks.” She finally quit fighting her embarrassment over the fatherly attention and hugged him back.
Rick was moved by the tender family scene, even though he hadn’t come to terms with the sudden knowledge he and Jamie were not alone in the house. There went his plans for a picnic dinner before the fire. He’d even thought he might work up the nerve to ask her to be his date for the St. Agnes fundraiser.
Instead he’d be sharing Chinese takeout with his cat. Just he and Boo Boo in his grandfather’s old wing chair by the fire. Seemed he was turning into the old granny of Vera’s complaints.
*
Jamie reached her hands towards the fire in the cast iron grate. It burned with a comforting crackle and snap and filled the room with soft, dancing light that reflected in the mirror of the wooden mantlepiece. Lovely. She had framed Rick’s old photo of the room and placed it on the mantelshelf as yet another final housewarming gift.
She threw herself into all her projects, but this Victorian had been special, and it was hard to be leaving.
In the mirror’s reflection, she saw the room in its restoration. The walls were now painted a serene blue-gray as opposed to the former navy and pink flowered wallpaper. A chair rail had been reintroduced. The old hardwoods gleamed like new. A vintage chandelier hung from the center of the refinished ceiling, a good match to the one in the photo. The leather wing chair remained the only piece of furniture from the old sitting room. The rest of the furnishings and décor would be Rick’s decision.
As for Jamie, her work here was done. Staring into the flames, she sighed, not intending that it should escape as such an audible sound.
Her father nudged her with an elbow. “Hey, this was fun, but time to move on, right? Lots of historical structures out there in need of our help. Wait until you see the next project I have lined up for you, you’ll forget all about this place. A twenty-room Italianate built in 1830 that sits high on a hill.”
That got her attention, and Jamie turned as he continued. “Then, in 1877 it received an upgrade which included a center tower, bay windows, and front porch, all in Second Empire Modern Gothic style.”
“Wow.”
Her dad nodded. “Right? I thought we could work on it together.”
“Sounds great, Dad.”
“What sounds great?” Rick entered, carrying three flutes of still bubbling champagne.
Jamie carefully took one from him. “My dad was just telling me about our next job.”
“Oh? Anxious to leave me?” His gaze found hers, and despite the teasing tone, Jamie saw disappointment in his eyes. Her father stepped up to accept the other glass, and Rick recovered with a smile. “Well, I still have the Kearlys for a few minutes yet, and I think we should toast to a job well done.”
“I can’t argue with that,” her dad said.
Rick raised his glass. Admiring the mantelpiece, he glanced up into their reflections in the mantelpiece mirror. “Thank you for giving me back my childhood home.”
He turned to face Jamie. “The mantelpiece is stunning. This room looks like I remember it, only better. The whole restoration is a dream come true. You’ve done all that I’ve asked and more. So much more.” His grin was bittersweet. “I know my gran would be thrilled. You’ve made her Victorian beautiful again.”
Behind her, her father said, “We hope it feels like home, Rick, and you love it here for years and years to come.”
They clinked glasses, and Jamie quickly brought hers to her lips for a swallow. Emotion overwhelmed her. After all her hard work, she had wanted to see the Victorian fireplace with a fire in the grate, but now that she had, she wanted to leave. Saying goodbye to the Victorian she had come to love even more than when she’d first put an offer on it was difficult. Saying goodbye to its owner, whom she had grown attached to … was too much. She wanted to get out, go home to the comfort of her family and begin the process of moving on, both professionally and personally.
“Thanks so much, Rick, and now we really should get going. My mom’s making dinner and she’ll need my help.” This was so no
t true. Jamie was neither needed nor wanted in the kitchen when her mother, grandfather, and Matt were combining their culinary talents, but Rick wouldn’t know that. And if he guessed it correctly as an excuse, well, what did it matter? This was goodbye.
“Right. Of course,” he said. “I’ve already delayed you. Thanks again for sticking around to light the fireplace with me.” He looked as if he wanted to say more but simply stood there staring.
“Thanks for the champagne.” Jamie nudged her father, in case he hadn’t already taken the hint, and Rick followed them into the kitchen where they deposited their glasses in the shiny white farm sink. Boo Boo had jumped on the countertop to look her in the eye with an imploring expression that seemed to ask, “Are you leaving us?”
Jamie lifted the cat for one last hug.
“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Rick,” Her father offered his hand and the two men shook.
She set Boo Boo down, blinking away the moisture in her eyes. “Enjoy your home, Rick.” She offered him her hand, but Rick stared at it awkwardly, then pulled her close to press a kiss to her cheek.
“It wouldn’t have happened without you,” he whispered in her ear before pulling away. “Thanks for everything, Jamie. Awesome job.”
He escorted them to the door. Jamie noticed her father’s steps dragging. She could feel his reluctance and prodded him with a shove out the door as they were saying their final goodbyes. They had made it to the picket fence at the end of the front walk when he stopped.
“Don’t do it, Dad,” she warned.
The apology in his expressive green eyes told her he had made up his mind and not in her favor. He would do as his wife instructed despite Jamie’s wishes. “Your mother insists Rick is a paesano.”
“That’s your defense? Rick is like part of the family? A friend maybe, non paesano.”
“I’m sorry, Jamie. I know you’ll forgive me, but your mother will make my life miserable for months if I don’t extend her invitation to Rick. She made me promise.” He gave the bill of her baseball cap a playful tug. “You know, your mother’s not a bad judge of character. You don’t seem interested in Dylan. Maybe you should give Rick a chance.”