Always Our Love

by Tawdra Kandle

  “Duly noted.” She hesitated, and I sensed she was wrestling with something. “And I’m Jenna. If we’re going to be working closely together, it doesn’t make sense to stand on formality, does it?”

  “Nope.” I hooked my thumbs in my belt loops. “So Jenna. According to the report, the lower level of the house is safe enough for us to walk through. I have a couple of hardhats in my truck, just in case and because this is now an active job site. Care to give me the tour?”

  She grinned broadly, and for the first time, I thought I might be getting a glimpse of the real Jenna Sutton. “Definitely. Let’s grab the hats, and I’ll lead the way.”

  “SO, WHAT DO YOU THINK?” I stopped just inside the front door, which Linc had propped open with a stick from the yard. It was sweltering in the house, even just on the first floor; I could feel waves of even hotter air rolling down the stairway from the second level.

  Linc must’ve felt them, too. He ran one large hand over his face, wiping off the sweat that had beaded there. I’d been watching him sideways all along our short tour, taking in his broad shoulders, smooth movements and even the easy way he had of talking. I was trying not to see how snugly his jeans fit what looked to be a killer ass or how the muscles flexed in his huge arms. At the same time, I kept waiting for panic to set in; I’d been jittery for days before this meeting, nervous about having to interact with a stranger. To my surprise, I’d felt relaxed almost from the minute he’d grasped my hand in greeting. It turned out that Lincoln Turner wasn’t the intimidating contractor I’d expected.

  “Well, the first thing I think is how much Ryland is going to hate that I’m doing this job and he isn’t.” A wicked grin spread over his mouth. “Matter of fact, I just might have to call him on the way home and rub it in.”

  I couldn’t help laughing at his obvious glee. “That doesn’t seem very nice. Won’t he be coming up here, too? Or does he have another building he’s working on right now?”

  “Oh, I’m sure he’ll wander up, maybe a little later in the summer. Right now, he and his wife are moving into a new house, so they’ve got their hands full. Plus, I think he wants to give me the space to handle this one on my own. It’s kind of our new paradigm. Used to be, he started the jobs and then I came in with my team to do the finishing. This is the first one I’m overseeing from beginning to end on my own. Ry’s working on some smaller jobs down around his area, and he’s handling all the administrative shit that comes with transitioning a new company.”

  “Ah.” I nodded. “I’m glad you said that, about this being your first solo job. It’s the first project I’m running, too. I guess we can make our mistakes together.”

  Something I didn’t quite recognize gleamed in Linc’s eyes. “When it comes to first times, I’m not sure whether it’s better that both parties are virgins, or if one of them should have some experience.” He waited a beat before adding, “Building virgins, I mean, of course. In this case, I think we’ll be okay, since even though I’ve never run the whole show, at least I’ve handled the last phase myself.”

  My face grew even warmer than it had been, and I was positive my cheeks had gone red. Nice. Way to look sophisticated and worldly. I should’ve ignored his innuendo—if in fact that was what it was—and gone on with our discussion as though he hadn’t mentioned virgins and first times. But instead, I heard myself speaking, an unfamiliar tone in my voice and no clear idea of what I was about to say.

  “Is that the best part, do you think? The end? I mean, you get to miss out on most of the grunge work, right? The dirty stuff? By the time you’d take over, it would just be making it all pretty and shiny, I’d think. Bringing it to a happy ending.” I mimicked his pause for effect. “You know, the fun stuff.”

  Linc narrowed his eyes at me. “I’m not sure whether you were teasing me or shooting me down just now. I’m going to assume you wouldn’t question my ability to handle a job from beginning to end and just say . . . yeah. You’re right, most of the nasty work was finished before my team got there, but don’t think just because something’s pretty that it isn’t hard.” He seemed to hear his own words as they were coming out of his mouth. “Difficult, I mean. Time-consuming. Requiring attention to the smallest detail . . . aww, shit. There’s nothing I’m going to say now that’ll redeem me, is there?”

  I was laughing so hard that I couldn’t speak, and as I held my sides, it occurred to me that I hadn’t laughed like this—real, genuine laughter—in so long that I couldn’t remember doing it. “Seriously . . . just stop. I can’t breathe.”

  Linc chuckled, too. “Okay, well, the point is that what my team did was just as important as the early work that Ry and his crew accomplished. We put the polish on their efforts.”

  “I’ll concede. You’re both wonderful, and you can both go to the prom.”

  He frowned quizzically. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I flipped over my hand. “Oh, you know. It’s just something my mom used to say when my sisters were fussing at each other. ‘You’re both pretty, and you can both go to the prom.’ I must’ve picked it up from her.” I took a deep breath. “So back to business here. I know you probably need some time to write up a report and lay out your plans, but what’s your gut reaction, seeing it? What problems do you foresee us running into on this restoration?”

  “Our biggest challenge, as it always is in a job like this, is figuring out how to make it functional and up to code without losing the historical integrity.” Linc rubbed the rounded top of the newel post that flanked the stairs. “For instance, just standing in here now, we know this place needs climate control. Air conditioning and heating both. But the fact that it’s so stinking hot also tells us that it’s probably pretty air-tight, which is unusual for a house this old. That’s good news—means that it was probably well-built from the beginning.”

  I turned in a slow circle, letting my eyes wander over the cobweb-covered, dusty walls and windows. “Can you even imagine what it must’ve been like back then? When it was new? Or even when it was just a little old, in the heyday of the plantations?”

  “Yeah. The rooms full of people . . . women in those big dresses, men smoking cigars and talking politics or crops . . .” His eyes were soft and unfocused, as though he were actually seeing it. He gave his head a little shake and glanced down at me, embarrassed. “I guess I’ve watched a few too many old movies late at night.”

  “In our line of work, I can only see that as being a benefit.” I hugged my arms around myself. “I can’t wait to see it brought back. Knowing I’m going to have a part in that is very gratifying. I can’t imagine how you must feel, with all the houses and buildings you’ve restored.”

  “Sometimes it’s just like that. Other times, when we’ve had to make concessions to the owners’ wants or likes, it can be bittersweet. Like I can see the possibilities, but I couldn’t realize them.”

  “I can see how that would be tough.” I touched the decorative molding on the long window next to me. “You won’t have to worry about that here, though. We’re committed to as high a degree of historical accuracy as possible, just as you are.”

  “That makes everything much easier,” Linc agreed. “It also takes a lot off my plate, because I won’t have to handle the heavy-duty research. I already took a look at your preliminary timeline on the house’s history, and it’s helping me put together our plan.”

  “I’m glad. I thought once we got a little further along, we could do a room-by-room inventory for things like knobs, handles and built-in furniture. One of our interns is doing research into curtains, rugs and other home furnishings of the period.”

  “Awesome. Well, I’ll get working on my end, and once we have a firm starting date, I’ll be in touch. It won’t be long.” He stepped through the door and out onto the porch.

  “Thanks. I appreciate you meeting me out here, too. I thought it was important for us to be on site at the very beginning.” Following him outside, I broached the topic I’d be
en considering since his arrival. “I met your daughter the other day. At the bakery? She’s lovely.”

  “You met Becca?” He cocked his head. “She told her brother and me that she’d found what she called a ‘really cool bakery’. She said something about the owner being um, different, but she didn’t mention anyone else.”

  “Oh.” I felt a little deflated. “Well, I guess I didn’t make a very big impression. Doesn’t really surprise me—Kiki’s pretty amazing. I don’t blame Becca for liking her.”

  “Hey, just because she didn’t tell me about you doesn’t me she didn’t like you. My daughter . . .” Linc sighed and raked his fingers through his light brown hair. “She’s going through a rough patch just now. I made her leave the house that day and go explore the town. I figured she’d end up hiding in the library, so I was pretty psyched when she told me about finding the bakery.”

  “She was very polite.” I tried to think of what to say about Becca’s visit to Kiki’s without making it sound weird. I had a hunch the little girl hadn’t told her father about the cookie incident.

  “Yeah, she’s polite. She’s quiet. She’s generally well-behaved. I don’t have any complaints about her. But sometimes . . .” Linc’s voice trailed off. “Well. You don’t want to hear about my family problems.”

  I wanted to argue with him that I did, in fact, want to hear about his family. It dawned on me that for the first time in ages, I was with someone who didn’t know anything about Poor Jenna. He didn’t know how I was Before, and although it was likely that he’d eventually hear whispers in town about what that poor Jenna Sutton’s been through, for now I could tell he was clueless. His manner around me had been too laid-back and easy for him to have known. And it was a relief to think about someone else’s problems or worries for once. Not being the center of attention was freeing.

  “I don’t mind listening. I bet moving to a new town, especially such a small community as Burton, would be tough on a kid her age. And if you ever need to work meetings or anything around your children’s schedule, just let me know. I’m pretty flexible.”

  “Ah.” Linc bobbed his head. “I see Becca told you about her mom. So you know I’m a single dad.”

  My face flamed again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be—to sound intrusive. Or like I was pitying you. Believe me, I wasn’t. I just wanted you to know that if something comes up, I’ll understand. I can’t imagine being a father on your own is easy.”

  “Not hardly.” He stared off into the tangled trees. “And I’m still getting my sea legs, so to speak. I don’t know if Becca told you, but she and my son lived with my late wife’s parents for the last six years. I’ve only had them for a few months, so we’re still figuring out how that works.”

  “No, she didn’t mention that.” I had a sudden and overwhelming compunction to share with this man, this virtual stranger, that I too was still getting used to a new situation. But I knew deep down that it wouldn’t sound the same. The kinship I felt with him, the hurting part of me that reached out to the same pain in him, wouldn’t be easily translated. And I was so accustomed to being misunderstood that I swallowed back the words . . . again. “Well . . . like I said, just let me know if you need any, uh, help. Or if you need to set up our meetings at a certain time, I can do that.”

  “Thank you.” Linc pulled out his phone and checked the screen. “I better get going now. The kids are over at Meghan and Sam’s farm, and God only knows what they’ve gotten up to.”

  “Oh, Meghan can handle anything. She’s got a way with kids. They have big parties out at the farm now, and it seems like she’s always surrounded by the children. She’s the art teacher at the elementary school, you know, and she gives private art lessons during the summer.”

  “Something for me to keep in mind. Might be good for Becca.” He moved to the next-lower step and paused. “Well, I’ll be in touch once I have everything set up on my end for the initial structure work. Oh, and we’re going to have to talk about widening the access road, too. Some of the equipment coming in might not make it through there as it is.”

  “Hmm. I hadn’t thought about that. I’ll mention it to Cora and see how they usually handle this kind of thing. I’d figured we’d put off working on the landscaping and grounds until most of the work was finished on the house itself.”

  “And that makes sense, definitely. Anything you planted now would be at risk for being trampled or crushed. But the driveway’s got to be a priority—both cutting back some of that foliage and maybe smoothing out the dirt.”

  “But not paving it? That wouldn’t be historically accurate.”

  Linc smiled. “No, not paving. Might think about some gravel on it, though. That could be a good compromise.”

  “I think I can work with that.” I stayed where I was, the higher step keeping me closer to being eye-to-eye with Linc. “Can I ask you something real fast? Before you go, I mean.”

  His forehead creased as his smile faded. “Sure. Lay it on me.”

  “I told you this is my first time being in charge of a project this big. But I do know that normally, once we’ve gotten approval from the state, we accept bids on the job from contractors. This time, though, the foundation funding the restoration stipulated to your company being hired. How did that happen?”

  “Ah.” Linc slid his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, stretching his T-shirt over his chest and making me wonder idly if I could read those muscles with my fingertips, like I used to examine the relief map in grade school.

  I gave my head a little shake. What the hell was wrong with me? I decided to blame it on the heat and the atmosphere of this old plantation house. With more than a little difficulty, I focused on what Linc was saying.

  “Well, it wasn’t anything we set up, if that’s what you’re wondering. Ryland and I didn’t ask for special consideration.” He stretched his neck, as though tension had knotted it. “But we do know one of the board members at the Baker Foundation. Cal Rhodes was a friend of Lucinda Baker. He lives in Crystal Cove now—he and his boyfriend Alex run the bed and breakfast there. Ryland knows them both pretty well, since Abby was the manager at the B&B before, and she was friends with both of them. As I heard the story, Cal got your proposal, and Alex knew about Oak Grove since he grew up here in Burton. They were both enthusiastic about it, and about that time, Ry and I had decided to base the company here. We didn’t ask them to make our doing the job a condition of the funding—that was Cal’s idea—we planned to bid on the job, though. I hoped it wasn’t going to be a problem.”

  Slowly I shook my head. “It isn’t. I was just curious. I didn’t know about the connection between Alex’s boyfriend and the Baker Foundation. It makes more sense now.”

  “Do you know Alex?”

  I lifted one shoulder. “Small town, so the answer to that question is pretty much always yes. I know of him, at least—he and my sister Carla were in the same high school class. And I’d heard that he had moved to Crystal Cove.”

  A tic jumped in Linc’s cheek. “If you—if the historical society would feel more comfortable, you can go ahead and post for bids for this job. I don’t want anyone thinking that we called in favors to do it. Ryland and I don’t play games like that.” He’d stiffened, I noticed, and his jaw was tight.

  “That’s not even in question here. Oh, trust me, we did some research into y’all when we saw which company was stipulated, but we were all overwhelmingly impressed. I don’t have any doubts at all that Kent and Turner is the best fit for this project. I was just curious about how it all came about.”

  Linc regarded me for one long moment, and then he nodded, his face relaxing again. “Sorry. I can be a little defensive when it comes to anything related to this company. Our reputation and integrity are important to me, especially. Ryland’s built this business, and he’s taken me on, let me add my name to it. That’s not something I take lightly.”

  I raised one eyebrow. “From what I saw in my investigation on line, y
ou’re every bit as responsible for the success of the company as Mr. Kent is. You’ve worked as many, if not more, jobs, and in one interview I read, he even said he wouldn’t be where he is today without your guidance and help. And isn’t it true that you took him under your wing when he started out?”

  He smirked. “Damn. That’s some detailed research you did.”

  I refused to let myself flush again. Okay, well, I refused to acknowledge that my face was probably pinking up for a third time. It was damn hot out here; who could help such things?

  “I’m always thorough, no matter what I do.” I sounded prim and proper, but that was all right. I didn’t mind that.

  “Hmm. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” Linc winked at me—he winked at me—and sketched a salute of sorts. “Gotta run. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  I stayed in place as he stalked to the pickup truck, swung in and turned it around in the space in front of the house. I didn’t move until the red taillights disappeared into the brush. Only then did I let myself wilt.

  I felt as exhausted as if I’d run ten miles. Well, I told myself, it was no wonder; this was a new experience, and I’d handled my very first contractor meeting without too many missteps. I was glad to realize how comfortable I already was with Linc Turner. That would only make this job easier for both of us.

  The house was silent as I checked the rear doors and then pulled out the stick keeping the front door open. It was a little silly to secure the property at this point, but it made me feel better to at least make the gesture. Once everything was closed, I climbed gratefully into my little car and blasted the a/c, adjusting the vents to blow icy air right into my face.

  I was just navigating the huge potholes and bumps of the driveway when I heard my phone ring. My car audio system picked up the call automatically, and I saw my mother’s name on the read-out. With a sigh, I hit the button on the steering wheel that let me answer the call.