From the Top

by Roxanne Smith

  Seraphina snuggled closer. Her breath moved the hairs on his arm as she leaned into him for a closer look at the small screen. “I’m about eighty-percent certain. It took a couple days of digging through some archives at Town Hall, but I found the records from the estate sale in the fifties, which was the first time the building switched ownership. It had been owned by the same family for generations up until that point. The Robichards even managed to hang onto the property through the Depression. I may have traced the sale of the telephone booth to the buyer, but from there it’s a lot of conjecture. Still, even if I can’t find the exact one, I can get a refurbished replica. God bless the internet.”

  “Amen,” he murmured, scanning her notes with renewed appreciation. “So again, why are you bothering with the likes of me? Seraphina, you’re a remarkable talent. You should be focusing on your own business. You’d give Neve Harper a run for her money. And myself.” He grinned sideways at her. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to expand outside of Arkansas.”

  Her lips had turned down. “I have half the experience you and Neve have, that’s why. I don’t have a solid reputation to fall back on. Sweetclover is the first real thing I have in my portfolio. You know that, Grant. It was all I had to recommend myself for the position at your firm, besides the years I put in at the university.”

  He shook his head. “Why the late start?”

  She glanced away from him. Maybe he’d hit on something uncomfortable. A seed of curiosity planted itself firmly in his gut. “Come on, I’ll swap a story of mine for one of yours,” he bargained. “I think we’ve been as intimate as two people can get. What’s the harm?” He grinned at the blush that crept up her neck to infuse her cheeks.

  “Maybe,” she conceded. “But this is different.” She met his gaze squarely. “There are different kinds of intimate.”

  He twirled his finger in a circle between them. “So this is just a sex thing. I was wondering when were finally going to dredge up a label.”

  “That’s not what I—I didn’t say that.” He hadn’t thought it possible, but her pale skin flushed an even deeper rose.

  Grant found it annoyingly attractive. His reaction threw him. He didn’t expect to be so affected by Seraphina’s reticence. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s probably for the best if we keep a few barriers up.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I’m just insecure. As usual. It’s not like my history is some special secret. It’s just…well, it’s embarrassing. And I don’t tell many people. Although, it’s fair to say not many people ask.”

  “We’re not exactly the type to invite personal questions, are we?”

  She blinked, her gaze morphing into something like surprise, as though he’d said something that warranted meditation. “No. We aren’t.” She gazed at him for a span of five seconds before breaking away.

  “Do you want me to go first? Hi, my name is Grant Gallagher, and I’m emotionally handicapped.”

  Seraphina grinned sheepishly. “If you wouldn’t mind breaking the ice.”

  “All right.” He made himself relax, forced an easiness into his bones he didn’t feel. Even so, he held Seraphina’s hand tighter as the words began to flow, stuttering at first, then gaining strength as he continued. “I was basically dumped on Kathleen’s doorstep when I was eight. I don’t know a lot about my dad, other than he’s a giant prick, and nothing at all about my biological mother. Of course, you know this much already.”

  “That’s a spectacularly shitty start.”

  “Indeed.” He pressed his lips together and nodded. “But there you have it. The great and terrifying Grant Gallagher is one vague father figure away from being an orphan. I’d probably be a lot angrier about the abandonment if it weren’t for the fact that Kathleen is pretty much the most amazing human being on earth. She was fifty when I came to stay with her. A club foot and mute from a stroke in her forties, thanks to some underlying heart condition doctors didn’t catch until it was almost too late. The two of us, we were a pair.”

  Seraphina had snuggled close enough to his side to rest her head against his shoulder. “Your dad left you with an old disabled woman? It doesn’t sound like she was in any position to take on a child.”

  Their clasped hands had shifted to his lap. Grant hadn’t even noticed when he’d put aside the tablet. His free hand stroked the line of her knuckles. “Like I said. A giant prick.” He laughed quietly, amazed at how easily the story spilled from him. It seemed like he’d been waiting a lifetime for just the right person to tell, and here she finally was. She didn’t have an alternate view to offer. She wasn’t a savior, come to drag him from his pit of self-containment. On the contrary, Seraphina inhabited a pit of her very own, thus making her perhaps the only person in the wide world who understood his alienation. How they managed to bridge the gap between their two islands was a mystery for the ages, but maybe they’d find a way.

  “I see her every day,” he continued. “I don’t even know if she likes having me around, but I can’t not see her. I feel like I owe her everything. She’s in her late seventies now, still putting around with her walker. Keeps a little pad and pen in her pocket and writes me notes as I drone on about work. I never know what else to talk about. I mentioned you, though. That seemed to make her happy.”

  Seraphina was still as a deer caught in the lights of an oncoming car. She cleared her throat delicately. “Am I newsworthy?”

  “Yeah, I think so. Looking back on our first meeting, you could see why you might stand out. I don’t regularly get into heated arguments with designers I hired sight unseen. In fact, it’s been a good long while since a designer has spoken against me, thanks to my ‘terrifying’ reputation. I was vexed, to be honest, but Kathleen was tickled. She actually suggested the apprenticeship.”

  “She did? But why?”

  Grant bit his lip, glad Seraphina hadn’t glanced up to scrutinize his face. He had no idea what he might give away. “I may have suggested she’d like you. You’re a lot like me. She figured if she’d like you, then I must like you, too. She does that sometimes. Ferrets out the meat and potatoes while I’m still trying to make sense of the garnish.”

  “So,” Seraphina drew out the word thoughtfully. “You like me because I argued with you?”

  “I like your stones.” He shrugged and laughed. It was the truest thing he could’ve said. She had a grade-A body, a mind like a steel trap, and talent she didn’t seem to realize, but what had crawled under his skin and settled to stay was her temerity. “I don’t look for doe-eyed obedience in the people who work for me. I hire for talent. Behind real talent, there’s always a fire. Because we’re artists. I’ve had to step away from that side of designing, because now, my art is a business. I’m ruthless when need be. I never suspected the necessity would turn me into whatever people think I am.”

  “You’re nothing like I expected,” she said quietly. She pulled away from his shoulder and sat up, only to twist and lie down with her head on his lap. “When Neve Harper thinks you’re scary, I have to take her at her word. It’s usually dead on target. I kind of can’t wait to tell her she’s wrong about you.”

  He shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I think simply being forward and looking people in the eye while you negotiate can earn you a few whispers in this industry. I don’t smile much. That seems to strike an unfriendly figure.” He knew he made people uneasy. He even accepted that he used the preconceived notion to his advantage. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Seraphina giving away his secret. “Is it worth seeing her fall to give away my only advantage over Neve? She’s fierce competition. She hasn’t beat me out yet, but she damn near took the Baylor and Tack remodel right out from under me. Damn near. Besides, she can’t possibly be as bad as people say.”

  “Having met Neve, I swear upon my very soul, she is every inch what people say she is. Abrasive, crude, opinionated to a fault, and usually spot-on. She gets
it right almost every time. It’s tiresome. At the same time, she’s a compelling person. And a strange friend to have. You want to kill her, but you also want her to like you.”

  “Well, now I know.”

  “She considers you a worthy rival, if that’s any balm.”

  He scoffed. “Until she gets to know me, at any rate.”

  “And you have plans to get to know Neve Harper, do you?”

  “Most definitely. If she’s a friend of yours, it’s merely a matter of time.”

  * * * *

  Seraphina wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Defiantly, like a dragon hoarding gold, she wanted to keep parts of herself hidden away from Grant—his potential scrutiny and inevitable judgment scared her to pieces. That’s how friendship, or any close relationship, worked. At first, people kept an open mind. But pretty soon, like Kay and Neve, they were tossing out admonishments and opinions like confetti at a birthday party.

  Grant brushed her bangs back from her forehead. “You look pretty cute in my lap like that. So, tit for tat. Your name is Seraphina, and you’re…”

  She gusted out a heavy sigh, a grin pulling at her lips. Grant didn’t look so bad from this angle, either. “Hi, I’m Seraphina, and I too am an emotional handicap.” She licked her lips and tried to decide the best place to start. She couldn’t recall she’d ever told the tale in full before. It wasn’t the kind of thing a young girl would be compelled to dish to her friends. “As I mentioned before, I was a theater rat. My dad and my mom separated sometime after I was born, but before my cognizant memory was functioning, apparently, because I have practically no memories of her. I have Dad’s story of how things went down.” For a second, she wished her story was as simply straightforward as her dad leaving her on some kindly old woman’s doorstep. It was almost hateful to think, even to herself, but maybe her life would’ve been better that way. Grant continued to stroke her forehead, like she were a puppy in his lap, listening attentively.

  She felt silly but stayed put. “You’d think the whole theater gig might’ve given it away sooner, but I guess not. Sometimes, we see what we want to see. And my mom saw a perfectly straight man who wanted to marry her and have a kid. Except, my father is not straight. Back then, though, things were different for men like him. If you wanted a family, you had to go about it pretty much the way society expected you to. When I was very young, my dad…” She paused and cleared her throat. “He had a, uh…well, an affair. With…you know. A man. My mom found out.”

  Grant’s face screwed up into a grimace, but his lovely blue eyes held an ocean of pity. Whether for her deceived mother, or for the confused child Seraphina had been, she couldn’t guess.

  “My dad says that my mom was floored. He sort of suspected she knew, but her reaction to his affair made it crystal clear she’d had no idea. I guess they tried to work things out at first. Dad had this huge weight lifted, and he was happier. He was sorry for the affair. He didn’t want a divorce. He just wanted Rebecca—that’s Mom—to accept him. You know, he loved her. And me. And he wanted his family and figured we’d all just get over it. Move on. My mom went looking for answers, though. She sought help, at first from counselors, then eventually the local church. She got super involved. Started reading their pamphlets on the devils of homosexuality, buying into the fiery sermons. For her, religion became a lifeboat, rescuing her from a storm of hurt and confusion.”

  That part had always struck Seraphina as fair. She could understand Rebecca’s search for answers, for anything to make sense of something crazy and strange; something so few others could relate to. It wasn’t exactly unheard of, but if Little Rock still had a small-town mentality now, how much more so over twenty-five years ago. Even now, small Southern cities clung to their prejudices and xenophobia.

  But her mother’s actions were less easy to justify. “She left. She packed her things and left us both. Dad says one of the last things she said to him was that he’d corrupted me the moment I was born. As a gay man’s daughter, I was ruined before I ever drew my first breath.”

  Grant inhaled deeply and whistled. “Shit. I hate to say it, but good riddance. I mean, unless you think you’d have been better off raised by an ignorant bigot.” He paused a beat. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. You’re right. The abandonment stings, but I’ve never once wished she’d have taken me with her. My dad is many things, not all of them great. But he’s honest. The only person he seems to judge unfairly is me.”

  Seraphina decided she’d had enough of Grant’s pets. She knew she was imagining it, but they felt more a thing of pity with every stroke. She sat up and put a few inches of space between them. “All that talking, and I haven’t even got to the stuff that matters yet.”

  Grant’s thick forefinger traced a path across the back of her hand. She remembered those clever, clever fingers. Unwillingly, her gaze traveled to his mouth. His lips were pressed together. His gaze was downcast. He didn’t appear to be enjoying her life story any more than she was.

  “He’s hard on me, that’s all.” She tried to inject a small measure of levity into the explanation. She was bringing them both down with her weird, pathetic tale. “You ever just miss the mark with someone? One misunderstanding after another. If I distance myself, then I must be ashamed. He sees my mother’s shadow looming behind me. If I call to tell him news, good news in particular, then I’m a braggart, better than him. Again, shades of Rebecca Fawkes coming out. He keeps expecting to see my mother and ends up missing me entirely.”

  “Hm. You should’ve gone first. My story would’ve lightened the mood.”

  Seraphina cracked a smile that took mere seconds to become full-blown laughter. “You’re right. I’m far too serious for my own good.”

  “Nah.” Grant shook his head, a slight grin tugging at his lip. “I don’t believe that. For people like you and me, there’s no such thing as ‘too serious.’ We adapted to our environment.”

  “That’s not better. You think our pasts define us?”

  “Not at all. We evolved as a means to move forward. We’re a product of our experiences, but I don’t see us sitting here blaming our bad luck and shitty decisions on our parents. Seems to me we’re two successful, well-adjusted adults.”

  “Hm.” Seraphina grew quiet. She let Grant’s words tumble inside her head. “You ever consider listening to people on couches full time? I hear there’s good money in it.”

  He laughed softly. “No, I think not. I have to be invested before I can care. I’m Grant Gallagher, remember? Callous. Terrifying. Cold.” Their gazes met and held. “But I sense an impending thaw. Makes me nervous.”

  Seraphina kept her expression studiously somber, but her heart hitched in her chest in a wild, sudden surge of something like hope. “You’re telling me.”

  Grant cleared his throat, and they both seemed to find something interesting on opposite sides of the room. When she felt comfortable in her own skin again, and less like Grant could see down to the fiber of her soul, she smiled disarmingly. “So, how about a tour of Tanbee House? I’ve seen the specs, but I wouldn’t mind the chance to poke around.” It was the sort of thing she liked to do alone before a big project began.

  Grant gave her a measuring look. “A short visit is actually on my itinerary. It’s one thing to scan blueprints and layouts, take in measurements and notations. But you don’t get a solid sense of what a home or office has the potential to become until you see the bones for yourself.”

  Seraphina smiled and didn’t care if she looked crazy. “It was cute at first, but the list of things we have in common is starting to creep me out.”

  Chapter 9

  The balmy night air felt different tonight—alive with subdued but playful excitement, like a kitten wriggling its bottom, poising to pounce. Seraphina was wise to the phenomenon now, though, and recognized the feeling as her reaction to Grant’s quiet, prowling presence b
eside her as they strode down the dark streets with their hands linked.

  They’d meant to visit Tanbee House earlier, ideally while the sun still lit the sky, but other things had distracted them: pizza, sex, and a movie. It was of dire importance that Seraphina watch Die Hard. She’d never seen the film, much to Grant’s consternation. She still hadn’t seen the film despite his efforts. They had both succumbed to naps ten minutes after the opening credits.

  Now it was late, the stars were out, and they were strolling through Little Rock’s historical Governor’s Mansion district, passing under pale street lamps and past looming plantation and carriage homes. “Maybe we should’ve waited. We both have to work in the morning. My boss isn’t the understanding type. He’ll be upset if I’m late.”

  “Yeah, I heard that guy is a real prick.” Grant’s amusement curled his lips into a soft smile. “All the same, I’d like to show you the place before tomorrow, when we have the first team meeting. We need to confirm the demolition schedule, begin processing orders for our supply contacts.” He paused, as if suddenly recalling Seraphina wasn’t new to the business. “Just another day at the office, I suppose.”

  Seraphina sighed as they rounded the corner, where a four-story Georgian home stood. Several windows were shuttered, and the elm tree in the front yard was half dead. “Kay lives in one of these monsters. She’s been renovating the last three years. I love my job, but when it comes to personal space, I’m a turn-key kind of gal.”

  Grant squeezed her hand so lightly she hardly felt the pressure. “Not into fixer-uppers?”

  As always, there was more to the conversation between them than the face value of the words. It was like they spoke in a code they’d learned in preparation for meeting each other. The night was almost eerily quiet as they moved farther from the constant downtown bustle. Seraphina’s shoes scuffed lightly on the spotted sidewalk. “I don’t have an exact image in mind of my perfect dream house. I’m not looking for a place to create an imagined perfection. I think, rather, that I can find comfort and peace in something as it is.”