To Be With You

by Daphne Abbott

  “We don’t need that kind of help,” I said and gestured around the kitchen of my newly inherited Victorian manor. “This is mostly cosmetic work. You even said the bones of the place are sound.”

  Nick sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Liv, just because the foundation and most of the structure is okay doesn’t mean there isn’t a lot of work to be done here. I’m used to building family homes or small cabins. This place is above my level.”

  I felt my heart rate increase at his words. I knew the renovation of the Van Ess House would be a massive undertaking, but after Nick had agreed to take on the job, I assumed he was capable of the work. He had mentioned early on that the house was big compared to most of their jobs, but this was the first time Nick had said it was above his skill level. Had I made a mistake?

  “I have my meeting with the historical society in six weeks,” I said, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. “They’re going to want firm plans on the renovation and addition.”

  “Which is why you need to call him. My cousin is an expert on historical preservation and architecture. I’m just a small-town contractor.” Nick leaned forward and flipped the magazine over to show Cal’s face again. “Not to mention he’s loved this house almost as much as you and Rose for his entire life. He’s the right person for the job, and you know it.”

  I swallowed, fighting against the lump in my throat, but my voice still came out raspy when I said, “Pam said as much last night at the Auxiliary meeting.”

  Nick grinned. “Yeah, I heard you had a bit of a scuffle.”

  I laughed. “I had to push apart your aunts, Debbie and Pam. I thought their rift had healed.”

  “They usually play nice when they’re around others. But the fight between Aunt Debbie and Uncle Dean and the rest of the family will never let up. They’re too wrapped up in their anger over how Grandpa Waite split the inheritances and feel like they should have gotten more than the old family farm.” Nick pulled out a chair and sat down. His handsome face was a mask of concern, and he reached out a hand to cover mine. Part of me wished I could develop romantic feelings for the sweet, handsome Nick, but all I ever felt was friendship. “I’m more concerned about you. Five million can make many people lose their minds. Which is why you need to get the right people to help you.”

  “Callum hates me, Nick. He won’t come back here to help even if it’s for the Van Ess House and the town.”

  “Cal’s a stubborn ass, and can hold a grudge as good as any of us Waites. But he loved your great-aunt, and I’m willing to bet he’d want to help see her last wishes fulfilled.”

  I had to agree with Nick. Cal was always stubborn but also sweet, kind, and loyal. He’d always made time to visit with Rose and take care of any little chores she needed done around the massive house. If I was honest with myself, I could even admit that the relationship Cal and Rose had shared made me envious.

  “There are other restoration architects out there, Nick. Besides, Callum doesn’t visit except for the occasional holiday. What makes you think he’d come for this?”

  “If I know my cousin like I think I do, I know he’d come home for this house. It’s his white whale.”

  I laughed. “The house isn’t as bad as Moby Dick.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Nick waved a hand at the ceiling. “The HVAC update alone is a massive undertaking. Not to mention the floors, windows, and hardware restoration. Then there’s—”

  “All right! All right!” I held my hands up. “It’s a massive job. But you agreed to do the work.”

  Nick sat back in his chair and glared. “I agreed because you went behind my back and begged my dad. You knew there’s no way he’d say no to the job.”

  I blushed. Going behind Nick’s back to get his dad’s agreement had been an underhanded thing to do. But when I had an idea in my head, I was very single-minded until I saw it through. “Nick, I’m sorry. But I needed to figure out something. I’ve been planning this business for years with Rose. I’m tired of waiting. Her death seemed like a tipping point. Like it was now or never.”

  Nick sighed and got up from his chair to pace to the window. I knew he was looking at the tangle of weeds, trees, and planters that lead to the lake below. Rose had moved out of the Van Ess House ten years ago when the estate got too much for her to handle with only her live-in housekeeper for help. During that time, the house had remained closed with only the barest of maintenance done.

  When I’d come up with the idea to convert the space into a wedding venue and flower nursery, Rose had loved it. We’d both fallen in love with the idea and spent hours poring over plans and plant catalogs. Rose had encouraged my idea, but I’d hesitated to start the renovation, which was the logical first step. Now that I was the sole owner of the mansion, I needed to see it renovated and making me money. Otherwise, the property taxes would bury me in debt by the end of a year.

  “I agreed to help because this place is important to you, and you’re one of my best friends,” Nick said as he continued to stare out the window. “But my agreement’s got a condition now.”

  I didn’t have to ask what that condition was. “Fine.”

  “Good,” Nick said, and spun from the window. “We have the permit to repair the roof. I’ll get a crew on that while you work out the interior plans with Cal.”

  “We have plans already,” I said, and gestured to the pile of papers on the table.

  “And now you’ll get historically sensitive ones,” Nick said with a grin. “Won’t that be nice?”

  I released a growl of frustration. “No. I just want to get my house renovated so I can start my business. Now I’m stuck begging a former friend to help re-do the plans, and oh yeah, renovate the town for me because my dead aunt wanted it!”

  “Come on, Liv. You know this is a great opportunity for you and the town. That money Rose left us is going to do a lot of good for Eagle Creek.” Nick circled the table and pulled me into a tight hug. “I know it’s frustrating to take on the endowment on top of the project here.”

  I snaked my arms around his middle and held on tight. Nick’s hugs were some of the best. Another reason I was angry I couldn’t muster up a romantic feeling for him. “This summer is going to suck.”

  Nick laughed and squeezed me tighter. “Yeah, but at the end, you’ll have everything you need to plan weddings and selling flowers.”

  “I know. I just wish I could snap my fingers and have it all done for me.”

  Nick stepped back and gave me a firm look. “Liv, if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you should never wish away time. You never know how much you’re going to get in life.”

  * * *

  “Is the entire Waite family crazy?”

  I shrugged and handed Lucy a glass of wine as I walked around the back of the couch to sit in my favorite reading chair next to the fireplace. “Callum is an expert on renovations. Plus, this could be a massive job with a ton of extra hoops to jump through.”

  Lucy stretched out her long legs on the couch as she took a sip of the wine and closed her eyes. I knew this pose; it was how she looked whenever she was mulling over a problem. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d sat in a room with Lucy looking just like that while we dissected our lives.

  After the discussion with Nick, I sent out an SOS text to my best friend for a debriefing session. Even though the project was still in its infancy, I needed to analyze and discuss all possibilities with the one other person in the world that knew the entirety of my history with Callum Waite.

  “Have you put out any requests to other architects in the area?”

  “No,” I said as I stared into the fireplace. I’d lit a fire as soon as I’d returned from town to chase off the chill of the night. “I’m sure there are other preservationist architects or whatever the hell they’re called. Maybe even some in the area. It didn’t occur to me to call
one in until Pam mentioned Cal.”

  “Preservation architect. The name sounds like they want to encase houses in jars and put them in a basement like your Aunt Priscilla does with her garden harvest. We need to figure this out. Cus there’s no way you’re calling Callum, right?”

  I pursed my lips as I studied the wine in my glass, letting myself enjoy the play of firelight across the pretty burgundy liquid. Then I asked that had been tumbling around in my head all afternoon. “Would it be the end of the world if I did?”

  “Are you kidding me?” Lucy screeched and popped up to a sitting position. “Are you forgetting the fight between you two? How devastated you were that he refused to stay?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “No but’s,” Lucy said and waved a decisive hand at me. “You two were the worst in high school, fighting like enemies but acting like friends. It was exhausting to be in the same room with you most of the time, and I will not live through another round of your bickering. Plus, I do not want to hear him gloat over how right he was about Peter.”

  Peter, my ex-husband, was my second biggest failure in life. “He’d have a right to gloat,” I muttered. “Everything Cal said would happen, did.”

  “Yeah, but we don’t need him coming back into our lives and bringing all that shit up again. You left Peter eight years ago. That’s three times as long as your marriage. You’ve moved on, and he’s disappeared to Minneapolis with some new chick. We don’t need Callum Waite coming back here and stirring all that up again.”

  I smiled every time Lucy said “we” when talking about my failed marriage and the aftermath. She’d supported me as Peter and I fought through the bitter end of our divorce. Though Lucy, with her pin-up style, projected the aura of a flighty or immature woman, she was the best friend I could ever ask for. Her love of fun kept me, the ultimate bookworm and homebody, from becoming too isolated.

  “Have you stalked Cal on the internet recently?” Lucy asked after several long moments of silence.

  I felt heat rush to my cheeks. “I don’t stalk.”

  Lucy laughed. “But you check out his posts, don’t you?”

  “His posts occasionally come up on my feed,” I admitted. “We’re mutuals on social media. Sometimes we like each other’s posts or comment on a meme, nothing more.”

  Lucy’s grin looked positively evil. “Right. Just mutuals. Nothing more. If I check out your search history, I won’t see his videos in your feed?”

  “Nope,” I said as I took a drink, feeling extremely confident she wouldn’t see the history of my video views. Not because I didn’t watch—I did—but because I was more tech-savvy than Lucy and knew how to cover my tracks.

  “Hand over the phone, Liv.”

  I picked up my phone from the table and handed it to her as I walked toward the kitchen. “Need a refill?”

  “No,” Lucy grumbled as she typed in my code and started picking through my phone.

  I knew she’d see exactly what I’d told her. A few post likes, a comment here or there. Nothing salacious, no indications of anything more than a very surface-level friendship between two former high school friends. It was exactly the relationship I’d curated on my public pages for exactly this purpose.

  Lucy could dig in that phone all she wanted; it would not tell her any secrets. I was too good at keeping my most intimate thoughts hidden. I was a Van Ess. Politics and subterfuge were the norm for us.

  I filled my glass, grabbed a bowl of grapes from the fridge and some crackers to serve as dinner, then walked back into the living room. Lucy had abandoned my phone on the coffee table and was now standing in front of the fireplace, fiddling with my TV on the mantle.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Trying to get this fucking thing to connect,” Lucy muttered as she mashed her fingers on the screen of her phone. “Mine just auto connects to my TV. How do you make this work?”

  Before I could get up to help her with the phone, the TV sprang to life, and Callum Waite’s face filled the screen. Talk about a glow-up. My nerdy, shy, and introverted friend had turned into a confident and sexy man. It was almost like looking at a different person as he walked through a house and explained the history.

  “There!” Lucy said and gave a little booty shake in celebration before moving back to her spot on the couch. “This is the latest episode I could find. He’s somewhere in Delaware working on a house for a senator and his husband.”

  “Woah. I knew he was doing okay, but a senator?” No wonder he preferred to stay on the East Coast.

  We both watched in silence as Cal laughed and talked with his cameraman, Fabián. The two men were obviously friends, not just co-workers, and their banter was seriously engaging.

  I wouldn’t admit it to Lucy, but I was a fan of Callum’s work. Not just his designs, but the way he presented the show and the obvious passion he had for old homes. It was the reason I’d been watching the channel since he announced it on Facebook three years ago.

  The first time I saw his face on my screen, the crush I’d buried years ago had flared back to life. It had mesmerized me as I watched him working on a custom furniture piece and talking to the camera with ease he’d never had in his youth. He was no longer the boy I’d known. Which shouldn’t have been surprising since I was no longer the girl who’d known him.

  “Did you hear that?” Lucy asked.

  I shook my head to clear it. “Hear what?”

  “He’s talking about Eagle Creek. Here I’ll go back a few seconds.” She ran her finger over her phone, and I watched the scene reverse until Callum was once again standing in the grand foyer of the house.

  “... The architect of this home was William Pine. Pine was so famous for his homes here on the East Coast that a home built from one of his personal designs became a status symbol. Wealthy families all over the country paid exorbitant fees to have Pine design and oversee their home construction. This home is one of only ten Pine original designs that remain standing in the United States.”

  For years, historians had dismissed our Pine as one of his associates work and not an original—until Callum. As a young boy, he’d discovered the original letters and work orders in the attic of the Van Ess House. Then he’d worked with Rose to legitimize our claim as the only Midwest house that could boast it was an original Pine design.

  “I forgot how much he researched Pine and his designs,” Lucy said as we watched the end of the episode.

  “He loved exploring the old house,” I said and popped a grape in my mouth.

  Lucy rolled her eyes, then stood and stretched. “Well, I should get home. I’ve got meetings in the morning. Can’t afford a wine headache sitting in a work meeting with Hunt, Gray, and Marcus. It’s like herding cats with those three.”

  I laughed and stood to follow Lucy into the kitchen, where she’d left her purse and shoes. Caleb Hunter and Gray Archer had purchased Lucy’s family marina two years ago and then brought on Marcus Freeman to be the head chef of a new restaurant they’d built. Unfortunately, the project had hit some snags over the winter. Gray had needed to take some time off after his girlfriend had been the victim of a kidnapping. Luckily, Ruby was safe, and Gray was finally feeling better after some intense therapy. So the restaurant’s opening was back on, and Lucy was working hard to make sure it was a success.

  I leaned my hip against the counter and looked at my best friend. “Do you still think calling Callum for help is a bad idea?”

  Lucy gave me a small smile before coming around the island and hugging me tightly. “Yes, because you deserve to be happy. You’re close to quitting the realtor job and opening your dream business in that house. You’re a badass who’s gonna kick ass and show this town that it’s not your last name or your ex-husband’s money that makes you successful; it’s that sexy brain of yours. The last thing you need to do is invite that antagonistic asshole ba
ck into your life.”

  I laughed and hugged her back. “You’re too good for my ego, you know that?”

  “That’s what best friends are for, babe.” Lucy squeezed me hard one more time before backing up at arm’s length to look me in the eye. “You do not need Callum Waite to finish this project.”

  Chapter 3

  Callum

  The soft morning light filtered through the gauzy curtains and highlighted her graceful curves until they shone like gold. Every bare inch was a master study in exquisite lines and textures. If I was an artist, I’d reach for my paints to capture this moment. If I was a poet, I’d write an ode to her beauty, but I was none of those things, so all I could do was sit in appreciation of the fine form before me.

  “Dude, you’re in the shot.”

  Fabián, my business partner and friend, interrupted my silent observation, forcing me to drop back to reality like a ton of bricks. The asshole laughed. He’d known what he was doing.

  “Isn’t it your job to work around me?” I asked, and backed away from the staircase we were filming.

  “No, my job is to make this house, and you look good. Now get the fuck out of my shot. You’re wasting the light.”

  I grumbled but moved out of his shot because Fabián was right. The lighting in the foyer of the old townhouse we were filming was not to be wasted. While he continued getting B-roll, I wandered through the space, appreciating the result of an extensive project.

  The homeowners had hired us to take the subdivided building and restore it to a single-family home. At first, I’d wanted to walk away. Changing four apartments back into one cohesive space had seemed too daunting. But Fab had seen the potential in the project, and after several long weeks of arguing between us, I’d taken on the job.

  He was gloating now as we took our final walk-through, and I was struggling not to throw a few punches just to get him off his high horse. I hated when Fab was right. He’d hold this over me for months, if not years.