Designing Hearts

  Chapter Five

  As the next five days went by, Jill focused exclusively on her work and family, avoiding any tendency to wallow in self-pity. Meanwhile, David took a month-long leave of absence from the network. She heard from him occasionally, mostly when he left cryptic messages instructing her on what to say if his mother, sister, or brother called the house. She began to feel like a message service and told him so.

  “I’m sure your family would love to hear from you directly. No one has called the house in days. If they did, I wouldn’t be able to say anything other than what I know, which isn’t much.”

  David had not responded for two days after that, and Jill was grateful for the reprieve. These days, whenever she thought about him, or when he called or emailed, the feelings of embarrassment and gut-wrenching hurt still reared up. Yet she could already tell that those moments were decreasing in number, intensity, and duration, and that she was feeling better and stronger each day. It also helped to realize that she had no regrets about her own actions in her marriage. What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, she thought, already realizing the truth in the adage.

  Meanwhile, Jill received an email from the Communiversity program director at the community college, letting her know that nine students had enrolled in the Introduction to Feng Shui class. Jill’s stomach flopped and her throat became dry when she heard the news. Too late to chicken out, she thought. Now it seemed the only thing to do was show up to teach the class. The rest of that week passed in a flurry of activity as Jill handled her design work while preparing feverishly for the class. Like it or not, this was a period of out with the old, in with the new. There was no way to undo what had transpired in her personal life. At least she still had her career—doing work she loved and that she knew could help people. She intended to be well-prepared for her students, whatever their reasons might be for taking a class on feng shui.

  On Tuesday of the next week, the start of her first class, Jill was too agitated to concentrate on her work. She left the office early that afternoon, determined to put her nervous energy to good use. The second week of September arrived with a barrage of high heat and extra humidity that kept most people indoors in air-conditioning. Barefoot and holding a glass of iced tea against her forehead for relief, Jill decided it was time to tackle cleaning the patio furniture before cooler weather arrived. She donned a light-blue sleeveless top and a pair of faded denim shorts that she would not have been caught dead wearing in public. Since she was alone, the desire for comfort had won out over modesty. She reached inside her shirt, unhooked her bra and wriggled out of it, then flung it onto the table in the foyer so she’d remember to take it upstairs later. Then she pulled on a pair of long, blue-rubber gloves up to the elbows and headed to the patio with a bucket and a soft-bristled brush.

  As she dragged the garden hose onto the patio and connected it to the spigot, she thought about the chain of recent events and was even more grateful for closeness with family, coworkers, and friends. Sometimes, however, the jagged cracks that remained of her former life still threatened to swallow her whole, especially at home in the quietness of the late evening. But overall, she took comfort in the routines of work and home care, and frequent conversations with the boys, Missy, and her parents.

  She turned on the outdoor faucet and aimed the hose into a bucket. Then she added the tea tree oil cleaner her mother recommended in her household tips column, and began scrubbing each of the redwood chairs. Taking a long drink of her iced tea, she stopped to wipe the cold glass over her steaming cheeks and started in on the chaise lounge with a vengeance. She was sweaty and miserable as she baked in the sun, sweat trickling down her face and neck and between her breasts.

  “I must be crazy starting this project today,” she muttered, “but at least the cushions will dry fast in this heat.”

  Twenty minutes passed before she took a break. Sliding open the glass patio doors, she stepped inside the air-conditioned kitchen and basked in the coolness that enveloped her. She poured another glass of iced tea and gratefully sank into a kitchen chair. Soon she would need to take a shower and get ready for class. Feeling a bit more refreshed, she pulled on the blue rubber gloves and was about to go outside again when the doorbell rang. Must be a neighbor, she thought as she went to investigate. But when she opened the front door, she saw a man wearing a striped blue-and-white golf shirt and pressed khakis.

  “I hope I have the right place. Are ye Jill Hennessy?” the man asked with a noticeable Scottish lilt to his voice. He was very good-looking in a wholesome boy-next-door kind of way, dark hair highlighted by strands of silver, and a smile that, no doubt, melted female hearts. Even hers wasn’t immune today.

  “I am.” Her voice sounded weak, even to her own ears. Yanking off the hideous blue rubber gloves, she wished desperately that she were dressed in something a little less Daisy Duke. She crossed her arms across her breasts and noticed the bra slung over the table in the foyer. She grabbed it and threw it into the hall closet, her face flaming.

  The man was clearly amused, but too well-mannered to react. “I’m Denny MacBride,” he said with a slight roll of the ‘r’ in his name. “I’m your new painter. Monica said you have the drawings and design plans for the Colver house, and that I should pick them up on my way over there. She said she’d let you know I was on my way.”

  Jill glanced at her cellphone and noticed there were two text messages. Monica had texted to warn her of Denny’s arrival while she was out scrubbing the patio furniture. “Oh, gosh, I’m sorry!” She was mortified at her appearance. “Monica did try to let me know. It’s so nice to meet you,” she said, forgetting her discomfort for a moment as she pumped his hand. “I took a look at your résumé and some photos from your portfolio. I’m very impressed with your work.” She glanced down at her outfit. “Sorry for my appearance. I …I’ve been cleaning patio furniture. I look awful.”

  “I think you look just fine, Jill.” His engaging grin told her he was entirely serious. “Sorry to show up without prior warning. If those drawings are available, I’ll not trouble you any longer.”

  “Please come in. It’s too hot to stand outside, and it’ll take me a few minutes to find those drawings and plans.” She began darting around looking for her briefcase, which inexplicably had disappeared from its usual place beside the back door. She left Denny in the living room as she searched through all the downstairs rooms.

  “Oh, no,” she said, catching sight of her bedraggled appearance in the downstairs bathroom mirror, hair sticking up in weird cowlicks from the humidity. Why, oh why, did she have to meet this handsome Scotsman for the first time looking like a molting chicken? After several minutes, she located her briefcase on a kitchen chair, removed the designs, and returned to Denny, who was studying a painting on a wall above the Queen Anne chair.

  “It’s a nice paintin’,” he said, rubbing his chin with his fingers. “I don’t recognize this artist’s name, but I like the simplicity of the subject. The green of those three pears, with one rolled on its side beside that blue-and-white china tea cup …. The composition is fine.”

  Jill handed him the design drawings rolled up inside a cardboard tube. “I’m not normally into still life paintings, but this one had so much life in it, I couldn’t resist. Do you like art?”

  “I do.” His expression didn’t change.

  “Denny MacBride,” Jill said slowly as it dawned on her why his name seemed so familiar. “You’re an artist! I’ve seen your paintings; they’re wonderful. In fact, I recently recommended two of them for a client’s home.” She was struck speechless for a moment.

  “Thanks.” He looked embarrassed. “I’ve been fortunate that my work has been well received.” He smiled and cleared his throat. “Before I go, I wanted to mention that I agree wholeheartedly with the color palette ye’ve selected for the Colvers’ house. But I’m concerned that the color in the library is a wee bit on the light side. I’d like ye to consider going two shades darker to thi
s more velvet shade, and really make the color pop with those golden oak floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Here, look at this shade and see what ye think.”

  He handed her a sample palette featuring a range of rich, nature-inspired greens. In all of her years of professional experience as a designer, Jill had never had a contract painter second-guess her color choices. In this case, she thought he was right.

  “I think it’s a wonderful suggestion. We’ll need to clear the color change with the homeowners, but I’m sure they’ll like it as much as I do. Why don’t we meet at the house a few minutes early, before you start painting?”

  “That’d be ideal. I’ll brush a little color on the wall, and you can make sure it’s okay.” His eyes met hers and lingered for a few seconds, causing Jill to blush. “I plan to be there by eight thirty tomorrow.”

  “I’ll see you then.”

  After Denny left, Jill slapped herself lightly on both cheeks. She was shocked to find herself thinking of Denny, his twinkling eyes and handsome smile. She cringed, remembering how she looked when he met her.

  “Nice going, Jill,” she mumbled, wishing she could rewind the entire day and start over. She would make sure the woman he saw the next morning looked her professional best.

  Denny MacBride had no sooner driven away before the phone rang. Startled by the sudden noise, Jill took a deep breath and looked at caller ID, hoping that it wasn’t David. But the number on the screen was her parents’.

  “Jill, I hope you aren’t in the middle of anything,” Nancy said in greeting. “I haven’t talked to you since the weekend. Dad and I wondered how things are going.”

  “Fine, I think. I’ll have to start getting ready soon for my first feng shui class tonight, but I can talk for a few minutes.”

  “Still as nervous?” Nancy asked.

  “Yes, but I’ve got hand-outs and notes. Hopefully, that’ll keep me from disaster.”

  “You’ll do fine.” Nancy’s voice was reassuring. “Are you getting any relief from all the attention?”

  “Everyone at work is still being careful not to say the wrong thing or pressure me for info, although I know they’d love to hear all the sordid details. Strangers are staring at me and whispering in the grocery store. There are still looky-loos cruising down the street, and I may never finish eating all the food.”

  “Funeral food?”

  “All the favorites. My freezer is jammed with casseroles, soups, bread, brownies, and coffee cakes. The neighbors have all been so nice, but it really does feel like there’s been a death: the demise of my marriage. Oh, and David emailed last night to tell me that he really wants to come home and start working things out. I told him I wasn’t ready for that yet.”

  “Life in a hotel room just isn’t the same, eh?”

  “Actually, I have no idea where he’s staying now. Knowing David, he isn’t suffering, though.”

  “Ten bucks says he’s at the Waldorf.”

  “Could be,” Jill said, grimacing. “We keep our own credit cards, but for all I know, the network might be putting him up somewhere. I hope so. I don’t need to face debt I didn’t expect on top of everything else.”

  “So, where do things stand now? Have you spoken with an attorney?”

  “I have. I didn’t really want to take any action yet, but there were some tricky things, like what David’s rights might be as far as our house is concerned. I was advised to file for legal separation, if I wasn’t going to allow him to live here, and to make sure certain financial agreements are in place. I hired a very good attorney who I met a few years ago. Tom and I designed her house, and I like and trust her. She’s got a good reputation for being tough but fair, and she encourages mediation; that is, if I actually decide to go through with the divorce.”

  “Information is always good to have,” Nancy replied. “Have you considered that saving your marriage might be an option?”

  “I can’t say, Mom.” Jill nibbled on a ragged cuticle. “This happened for a reason, even if I don’t understand what it might be. I don’t know why David cheated, and he didn’t respond when I asked. But how will I ever be able to trust him again? I need legal advice because if things get ugly between us, I could end up losing a lot more than my self-respect.”

  Nancy was silent for a moment. “You have not lost your self-respect, Jill, because you did nothing wrong. That’s a normal reaction, I’m sure, but you need to keep things in perspective. It’s certainly telling that David wants so much to come home. As for his lack of an explanation or apology, do you suppose he’s been instructed not to admit fault? He’s been the one carrying the banner for family values.”

  “I’m sure that’s part of it. A public apology would mean admitting to the very behavior he claims to despise. However, I’m not the public. I’m his wife. Even when we went to a counselor, I got the feeling that David had no intention of apologizing.”

  “An apology would be the best place to start,” Nancy agreed. “There will be tough days to come, but I believe everything will turn out for the best, and you’ll come through this just fine. By the way, Dad and I are proud of how you’ve handled yourself throughout this entire ordeal.”

  Jill felt a lump forming again in her throat. “Thanks, Mom,” she said, her voice barely audible. “I’ve always had great role models.”

  “True.”

  Chapter Six

  As she drove to Southern Connecticut Community College, Jill thought about the unexpected visit from Denny MacBride earlier that afternoon. He was surprisingly humble and down to earth for such a talented, successful artist. His paintings certainly commanded an impressive price, and he was the featured artist at a respected Manhattan gallery. She remembered the twinkle in his eyes as he took in her bedraggled appearance and felt her cheeks redden again involuntarily. True to Monica’s word, Denny was, indeed, a very attractive man. In many ways, Jill thought he was every bit as handsome as David, but in a more approachable, less professionally styled way. She looked forward to seeing Denny the next morning at their clients’ home.

  The scent of summer rain and overripe vegetation hung lush and heavy in the air as Jill stepped out of her Subaru in the community college parking lot. She stopped to take in a fragrant breath and gave her outfit a last-minute once-over, wishing she had worn slacks instead of a skirt. Warily glancing up at the sky, she noted a promising sliver of blue peering through the roiling gray and optimistically tossed her umbrella onto the passenger seat.

  College students, many weighed down with backpacks and carrying fast food bags, hurried past her into the 1970s-style, sprawling redbrick complex of the community college. Butterflies fluttered in Jill’s stomach as she made her way along the concrete sidewalk from the faculty and visitors parking lot to the college’s main entrance. As she walked through the main entrance, her self-doubts resurfaced. She still wondered whether she could keep a class of adult students engaged for ninety minutes each Tuesday evening for an entire semester. Juggling an armload of folders containing handouts and reference books, she walked through the main doors and down the long, acrid-smelling, carpeted hallway to room C103. As she stepped inside, nine sets of eyes met hers.

  “Good evening,” she said, swallowing hard. She flashed a nervous smile as butterflies swarmed alarmingly in her stomach. Glancing around the room, she noticed with relief that a big screen television was available on the back wall. If worst came to worst and she ran out of things to say or they looked bored, she could let the students watch a design show on the Home and Hearth Television network while providing a running feng shui commentary. She deposited a stack of hand-outs on the desk, wrote her name on the chalkboard, and turned to get a better look at her students, who appeared to range in age from late twenties to mid fifties, mostly women. There were two men who looked to be in their early thirties. That was two more than she expected to see.

  She pulled out her notes and began to read them. To her dismay, her left hand shook so hard, the pages fluttered. She kept her eyes
focused on the page. “I’m glad so many people are interested in feng shui,” she began, pronouncing the term ‘fung shway’ in case there was any confusion. “My name is Jill Hennessy, and I’m an interior designer with the architectural firm of Becker, Hennessy and Johnson.” She looked up in an attempt to make eye contact and offered a weak smile before returning to the page. “First, let’s define what we’ll be learning about this semester. My definition of feng shui is pretty simple. It’s an ancient Chinese art form that helps us design and organize our work and living spaces in attractive and meaningful ways to create balance and harmony in our lives. Sounds pretty harmless, right?”

  She looked up from her papers. Nine sets of eyes stared at her. A few students smiled in a stiff, polite way. Great, I’m already losing them. Jill swallowed again and continued, “Our firm, which was founded twenty-one years ago, is strongly committed to feng shui when designing homes and commercial spaces. I’m sure you’ll agree that it isn’t at all weird or unusual for people to give great thought to the arrangement of rooms, their décor, or the placement of their furniture. Feng shui is about making deliberate choices with the intent of enhancing health, wealth, and happiness. The premise is that the thought or intent of what we want precedes the physical change, which ultimately brings about what we desire.”

  She took a quick swallow of water and surveyed the class. One of the students was doodling in her notebook, and a young man glanced at the clock. Jill felt heat rise in her cheeks and realized that she had just lost her place in the notes. Scanning the page, she went to the next bullet point and began again. “The way our homes are designed and where we place our belongings can mean the difference between feelings of well-being and the exact opposite: a sense that our lives are somehow out of sync. We want energy, the chi, to flow freely.”