“I know you’re not an engineer, Reid,” Jack said to him after he arrived at work the following morning, “but I’d like you to have a look at our terminal in Caution Point. I understand that it’s attracting photographers, so I’d like to know that it’s going precisely according to your plans.”
“I thought Kennedy was the engineer for the project. Won’t he get his back up if I’m snooping around?”
“Point taken. What do you suggest?”
“We could have a weekly or bi-weekly conference on it, give him a chance to say whether he sees any problems. If so, I could check it out. I’ll go there if you think it’s necessary, but I’m fairly certain it would cause hard feelings, Jack.” Reid shrugged. “But it’s up to you.”
“I’ll have an informal meeting with the three of us tomorrow.”
His next assignment would tax his abilities. It occurred to him that Jack intended to use him for the most difficult jobs, and he didn’t mind the experience, but he was no longer dejected, no longer in a pit trying to see daylight, and he was not going to permit Jack or anyone else to take advantage of him. Little did he know that opportunity would knock soon, bringing with it both discord and dilemma.
“Would you come to my office?” Jack said to him over the intercom after lunch that day. He wondered that the man didn’t greet him, and that he spoke like a boss, just short of ordering him to come to his office.
“Yes,” he replied with equal detachment and wondering if his cordial relationship with Jack Marks had come to an end.
He walked into the office where Marks and Connerly sat at the conference table. Jack did not ask him to sit down. With his guard up, Reid said, “You want to see me, Jack?”
Jack leaned back, his demeanor that of a boss certain of his status and power.
“You’ve been soliciting work for yourself again, and that is not permissible.”
“I’ve done no such thing,” Reid answered, “and I want you to withdraw that accusation. If anyone says that I’ve solicited an architectural design job since Reid Maguire and Associates folded over seven years ago, that person is lying.”
Jack leaned forward. “You’re telling me that—”
Reid narrowed his eyes, not bothering to hide his annoyance. “Who told you that I solicited work? I want to see that liar.”
“Now, Reid, maybe I shouldn’t have said it the way I did, but it comes from someone I’ve trusted for years.”
“You’ve misplaced your trust. You’ll have my resignation in twenty minutes.” He turned to leave. Talk about a downer!
“Wait a minute. Not so fast. I don’t want your resignation.”
“And I won’t work for a man who doesn’t respect me.”
“You’re the best architect I’ve got. I don’t—”
Reid interrupted Jack for the second time and didn’t care if he did. “I know I’m the best architect you have, and I also know that you take advantage of me, but I’d do the same if I were in your place, so I don’t mind. For now. When I get tired of it, I’ll leave.”
“Mr. Marks,” a voice said over the intercom, “a Mr. English is here to see you. He says it’s urgent.”
“You deal with your guest,” Reid said to Jack. “I’ll be in my office.”
“All right, but I don’t want you to resign. I’ll make you a junior partner.”
“Yeah,” Reid said, “but you’ve exploited me for the last time. I’d like to know who the hell told you that lie.”
Twenty minutes later, his phone rang. “Maguire speaking.”
“Reid, this is Jack. Would you mind coming to my office? I apologize for that scene earlier. I was totally misled.”
Reid took his time. He didn’t want to be buttered up, and he was in no mood to be gracious. He walked into Jack’s office and saw, with Jack, a man he hadn’t seen before.
“Reid Maguire, this is Reginald English, and he tells me he’s come a long way to see you.”
Reid walked over to shake hands with the man, skipped the preliminaries and asked, “Why do you want to see me?”
Reginald English stood, tall, gray-haired, chalk-white and blue-eyed. He extended his hand. “I’ve been trying to find you for a good eighteen months. I was about to give up when I mentioned it to Marcus Hickson, who’s rebuilding my son’s grand piano, and he told me where to find you. I want to build an office building and a vacation house on the Outer Banks. I want them stormproof, and that means money. You can do it.”
Reid sat down. If he did that job, he could call his shots. “You didn’t tell anyone that I solicited this job, did you?”
“Me? Hell, no. I’ve never spoken to you before. Is there a problem?”
He decided to let it all hang out. Telling the truth never hurt. “Do you know why my architectural firm folded?”
English crossed his knees and leaned back. “Of course I know. When I enter into a business deal, I know all there is to know about the other party. You’re back on your feet now, and I assume you’re going to contest that judgment. I can recommend a crackerjack lawyer.”
“Thanks. I’ll get to that,” Reid said, careful not to show his hand.
“Well? My only reason for coming to Queenstown is to get your signature on a contract, Mr. Maguire. I’ve had a man examine over half of the buildings you designed, and I’m satisfied that you’ll bring me something solid and exquisite.”
“Thanks for the compliment. How may I reach you? You’re asking for a decision that I can’t make at this time.” Moreover, he wanted to talk with Jack Marks, now that Jack had evidence of his innocence in respect to that accusation. Once you’re down, people find it easy to step on you. He was grateful to Marks for giving him a job as an architect in spite of his blemished reputation, but not so grateful as to accept an unwarranted rebuke. He wanted an apology or he was out of there.
Reginald English stood, and in Jack Marks’s presence, he said to Reid, “You don’t have to work for anybody but yourself. All right, so you got the short end of the stick and you didn’t deserve it, but what about the thirty-some other buildings that bear your name? Not to speak of private houses. They’re a testament to your competence. I waited eighteen months, and I’m willing to wait another twelve.” He handed Reid his card. “I’ll be expecting to hear from you.” He turned to Jack. “Thanks for your help, Mr. Marks. Good day, gentlemen.”
Reid watched the man leave the office, then turned to Jack. “It’s your call, Jack.”
“Look. It was unfair of me to accuse you without first hearing you out, and I’m sorry about it. I saw myself losing you, just when I’m ready to accept a job that, frankly, I don’t think any of my other architects can do. And it’s been so long since I designed a building more than fifteen stories high that I’m probably not up to it, either. But you can do it.”
“That’s a tempting offer, Jack, and he’ll pay whatever I ask. I won’t mislead you. I’m going to give it serious consideration. I appreciate your confidence in hiring me, all things considered, but I have to be honest with you.” He looked Jack in the eye, saw that the man regarded him with heightened esteem and asked him—not because he was seeking advice, but because he wanted Jack Marks to show his integrity or lack of it. “If you were in my place, would you take that job?”
“You don’t pull punches, do you? I expect I would, if for no other reason than it would allow me to form my own company again. That’s what you’re after, isn’t it? And of course, it’s bound to be a lot of money.”
“I know. The name English is synonymous with wealth and has been for generations.”
Jack made a pyramid with his hands and propped his elbows on his desk. “It hurts me not to be able to take on the job of designing the tallest building in Chowan County. But if you leave, I’ll have to pass it up.”
“This town won’t support two architectural firms, Jack, so I have to think this thing through.”
“Well, let me know your decision as soon as you can. I won’t hold you to your contrac
t. That would be unconscionable.”
“I didn’t think you would. Besides, it has a release clause that I could probably meet. See you tomorrow.” He couldn’t wait for four-thirty; he had to get out in the fresh, clean air, spread his arms and pay homage to life. He didn’t remember ever having felt so free, so strong, so capable of changing the world. For two cents, he’d reach up and fly. He got into his car, his very own car, and headed home, wrapping his deep baritone around the words of his favorite song “Shenandoah.” Shock reverberated through his system; he hadn’t heard himself sing in years. What a day!
Already, as he drove, he sensed that mental stress—something he hadn’t felt since he went to Dickerson Estates—had begun to creep up on him as his mind dangled his options by the weight of their positive aspects. A building’s design and its plans represented a hefty percentage of the cost of any building, and Reginald English would erect a building that was a credit to his name. As for the summer house, that would surely be a mansion. But could he risk leaving a sure position with a promise of a junior partnership—Marks, Connerly and Maguire, Architects—for a job that, although it would carry fame and prestige, was unlikely to last more than two and a half years, if that long. He didn’t need that dilemma.
At home, he parked in the underground garage of his apartment building, rode the elevator up to the first floor, walked slowly into his apartment and closed the door behind him. Everything looked the same, but he didn’t feel the same. As if he were tied to a bag of helium, he could hardly prevent himself from floating up to the ceiling. If only his father were alive to rejoice with him. He was, at that moment, experiencing his psychological ascent from that deep, dark pit, and he needed to shout it to someone who would appreciate how far down he’d been. He telephoned Philip.
“I just had to share this, man,” he said to Philip after they’d greeted each other. “You’re the only person who knows how far down I was, so I want you to be the first to hear this.” He told Philip about Reginald English’s offer and Jack’s counteroffer of a junior partnership less than an hour after having accused him, in effect, of lacking integrity. “I’ve never been easily overwhelmed, but, man, this is a plateful.”
“Surely you’re not wondering what to do?”
“In fact, I am. Mad as I was at Jack, I still have some allegiance to him because he gave me a chance when others didn’t.”
“How many places did you apply to before you got a contract with Marks and Connerly?”
“Five. Four firms turned me down, and I received an offer from a fifth one after I signed on with Marks and Connerly.”
“As far as I’m concerned, Marks hired you because he knew you’d be gunning to prove yourself, and he’d get a bargain. He knew your history as an architect. Look, it’s up to you, of course, but I’d go for it. What does Kendra say?”
He scratched his head. Why hadn’t he called her before he phoned Philip? Then he remembered: Kendra didn’t get home until around five o’clock. “She’s still in court, so I haven’t told her, but I pretty much know what she’ll say. I asked Jack what he’d do, mostly because I wanted to test his integrity, and would you believe he said he’d take English up on that offer?”
“If he’s an honest man, he couldn’t have said otherwise. I can see that a partnership at this stage of your life, the past considered, sounds tempting, but don’t forget that your status as an architect has been higher than that. When do you think you can get back down? I bought a summer place right on the bay. If the weather’s good, we can fish and swim for a whole weekend.”
At the moment, a weekend on the Chesapeake Bay held about as much interest as the art of catching butterflies. He had to decide what to do with his life. “As soon as I get my head straightened out, man, I’ll let you know. Thanks. Somehow, the estate is the place that means home to me, so I’ll get down there whenever I can.”
“Make it as often as you can, brother. Your room will always be empty.”
Reid went outside and sat in his garden, which had been his reason for taking the terrace apartment. He kicked off his shoes, pulled off his socks, stepped on the lawn and let the blades of grass tickle his toes. He had a sense of being completely alive. The Dutch irises, planted by some previous occupant of his apartment, bowed in reverence to the brisk wind, and he turned to face the breeze and receive its exhilarating magic. Ah, what a day!
“I think I’ll go down to the Sound,” he said to himself, but when he looked at his watch, he saw that in a few minutes Kendra would be home. He put on his shoes, locked the door of his apartment, got into his car and headed for the market. He wanted to do something special for her, something different. He walked through the supermarket, but could find nothing that interested him, so he went to the fishmonger and bought four large lobster tails, then went back to the supermarket and got what he needed to complement the lobster. Finally, “I’ll take that nice red one,” he said to the woman who sold roses beside the newsstand.
“This is Reid,” he said when Kendra answered the phone. “Did you eat yet? No? That’s good. May I come over in about forty minutes for a while?” He listened more to her voice than to her words of welcome. At times, the sweetness of her voice captivated him. He hoped that he would never get used to it. He showered and dressed, steamed the lobster tails and put them in the picnic basket along with the remainder of the meal, got the rose and two bottles of white wine and walked through the alley to her house.
“I was watching for you at the front door,” she said, and took the rose from him and kissed his cheek. “Oh, Reid, sometimes, you touch me right where I’m most vulnerable. Thank you.” She saw the picnic basket. “What’s that?”
“Allow me the pleasure, ma’am, of serving your dinner.”
He shifted his gaze, for he was sure that her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and if one teardrop left her eyes, he knew that—considering how he was feeling—that lobster would be ice-cold by the time they ate it.
Chapter 8
This man had more ways of locking himself into her heart. She was in trouble, big trouble, and she knew it. She had looked at him standing there with a rose in one hand and a picnic basket in the other one and told herself that she had better not cry, that crying because a man showed that he cared was juvenile behavior. But she couldn’t help expressing her feelings, so she kissed his cheek, took his hand and pulled him into her house.
She kissed the rose and asked him, “Are we having a picnic?”
“No, madam, I have prepared your supper, and if you will lead the way to the dining room, I will set the table and feed you.”
A funny, drunken sensation settled in her stomach, and she leaned against the wall in the hallway that led to the kitchen and looked straight into his eyes. “I’m a strong woman, Reid, and I’ve proved it to myself many times, but when I got a broken heart wasn’t one of those times. You shower me with affection and caring, but if it’s…if it’s because there’s nobody else available, I want to know right now.”
He put the basket on the floor and stared at her. “I came to you because I’m bursting with happiness, because my ship came in today, and I want to celebrate it with you. Why do you think I would hurt you? Do you doubt me?”
She shook her head. “I’m feeling so much in here, Reid.” She pointed to her heart. “It just scared me all of a sudden.”
“Let me hold you.” His lips brushed her forehead, but she could tell from the tension in his body that he was using an inordinate amount of self-restraint. “You will hurt me long before I hurt you.”
Regretting her moment of weakness, she said to him, “Come on in here. When you called, I had been wondering what to cook for my supper.” She put the rose in a bud vase and watched, marveling, as he set the table with utensils from the picnic basket, and placed the warm lobster, a bowl of butter sauce, steamed tiny waxy potatoes rolled in butter and minced parsley, asparagus tips and a green salad. He poured two glasses of Château de Rodet, a rich white burgundy, bowed an
d held a chair for her.
“Madame, dinner is served.” She sat down and dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. “What’s wrong, Kendra? If you cry, I won’t be able to eat.”
“I’m not crying. My eyes do this sometimes. This is wonderful, and I love lobster. I wish something good would happen for you.”
“Something good has happened.” He told her about his day and added, “Sweetheart, I feel as if I could fly with my own wings. If you knew…
“Ten months ago when I left Dickerson Estates, I saw a rough road ahead. I’d been so far down. When I stopped Philip on the street in Baltimore, I was ready to commit suicide. I hadn’t eaten in almost three days, but I wouldn’t stoop to stealing. I asked him for a dollar, and he asked if I wanted a chance to rebuild my life. I had nothing to lose, so I went with him. And now this.
“Loyalty is deeply ingrained in me, Kendra. My father poured it into my head. Jack needs me, but I need to work at my full potential. If I take a junior partnership, I’ll be fixed for a long time, because Marks and Connerly are the top firm in this entire region. But I’ll be selling myself short.”
“I can’t believe you’d even consider turning Reginald English down. Tell Jack you’ll design that building for him as a consultant, if he likes, and reestablish your own firm. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t sweat over that.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you? Even knowing that after a minimum of four years I could be without work, you think I should do it?”
“If Jack Marks has a dozen of the best architects around, and he thinks none of them is as capable as you, why would you worry? You can do anything you set out to do. Anything. Only such a man as you would be able to pull himself up—even with help—and come out of pure hell unscathed.”
He lifted his glass of wine with fingers that he could barely control. Finally, he had to steady the glass with his left hand. “I brought us some dessert,” he said, and couldn’t let himself lock gazes with her, an indication that his composure had slipped, “but if you continue to say these things to me, I…doubt we’ll eat it tonight.”
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