Treat You Better (The Family Stone Book 3)

by Brooke St. James

  "Yeah, he used to quite a bit, but he hasn't been in a while," Carl said.

  I had no idea what they had said, but I continued smiling and pretending I did.

  "I've been retired for a year, and I've been tempted to ask him to teach me, but I think I'm too old now."

  Marisol glanced at me, and I shot her a look of confusion, hoping she would clue me in on what they were saying.

  "I'm a strong swimmer," Carl continued, drawing my attention from Marisol. "But I'm not too confident with my balance. My body doesn't quite have the reaction time it used to."

  I had no idea how they would have gotten off on a random subject like surfing, but I was relatively sure that was what Carl was talking about. I remembered that guy I met at the grocery store looking like a surfer.

  The fact that he made jewelry was the shocker.

  It was somewhat surreal to me that the man who had caught my attention just based on looks would also happen to be a jeweler.

  It felt like I was being messed-with.

  Some things that seemed too good to be true just were too good to be true.

  Chapter 5

  I was so nervous about going to school the following morning that I woke up two hours early. I stayed in bed, trying to fall back asleep, but it was useless. I was dressed and ready to go before Leo even woke up.

  "You look beautiful," Mom said, hugging me when she came in the door that morning. "Why are you so dressed up?"

  "I'm not. I'm just wearing my hair down."

  "I like your little denim shirt, too. That's cute. And you smell good."

  I laughed. "So, you're saying I pretty much look and smell like a big bum every other day."

  "No, I'm not saying that." Mom said. She knew I had been playing around, anyway.

  She came into the kitchen, setting her things on the counter before peering over the bar into the living room, searching for Leo.

  "He's eating," I said. "And watching cartoons."

  "Big day at school or something?"

  "No, why?"

  Mom shrugged, still looking me over. "I can just tell when you took an extra fifteen minutes," she said.

  "We have a substitute teacher," I said, since seeing Noah Case was the main thing on my mind.

  "Oh," Mom said. She nodded and made a face like she was trying to figure out what having a substitute had to do with the extra effort.

  "My teacher and his wife had a baby, and there's some hot-shot jeweler taking over the class for the rest of the term."

  "Oh, so you're trying to impress him? Him? Is it a man or a lady?"

  "A man," I said. "His name's Carl Case."

  I was silly for choosing to say Carl's name instead of his son's, but I was afraid my mother already saw through me.

  "Is he handsome?" Mom asked, confirming my suspicion.

  I snickered. "He's Dad's age. He's got a wife and grown kids with children of their own. But he's really nice. He was there yesterday, and I got to talk to him quite a bit."

  Mom smiled and nodded, but she still seemed a bit confused. Maybe she was wondering why I hadn't mentioned it the day before or she was still trying to figure out why I was wearing my hair down and a coat of lip gloss on account of it.

  I really hoped my classmates wouldn't notice.

  ***

  There was no reason at all for me to worry about my classmates noticing the extra effort I had put into my appearance that day. They were all too preoccupied with the extra effort they had put into their own appearance.

  The entire class arrived early, and everyone was bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and looking sharper than ever.

  "You and Carl really hit it off yesterday."

  I was in the process of putting my things down when Marisol spoke, so I wasn't even sure she was talking to me at first. I glanced at her once I processed what she had said, and I nodded.

  "I liked him," I said. "I thought he was really nice."

  "Did you tell him who your dad is?" she asked.

  "No."

  "Do you think he knows just by your name? Mike and Callie did, remember?"

  I shrugged. Mike was a classmate of ours who was huge fan of my father's. He knew who I was on day one. He brought a record from his own collection to ask if I could get my dad to sign it.

  "I have no idea," I said. "If he knew my dad, he didn't say anything about it. We talked about other things. Jewelry."

  "Who talked about jewelry?" Brendan asked, overhearing us and turning in his chair to face us.

  "I was asking Indie about being buddy-buddy with Carl Case yesterday," Marisol said. "I was asking her if she told him she was famous or not."

  "I'm not famous," I said.

  Marisol glared playfully at me.

  "I'm not," I said defensively.

  "You're more famous than the rest of us," Brendan said. "Way more."

  "Still. I don't just bring up my dad in random conversations. We just talked about jewelry."

  "I would definitely bring it up in random conversations if Alec Stone was my dad," Brendan said.

  "No kidding," Marisol agreed.

  "He might not even care about that," I said.

  Marisol shook her head. "People care about Alec Stone. Even if they don't listen to his music, they care."

  "Well, we didn't talk about it," I said.

  I absentmindedly began taking my things out of my bag and setting up my work station. I hoped my nerves weren't as obvious as I thought they were. I knew Noah would be here any minute, and I had a hard time catching my breath because of it. My voice felt slow and heavy, like I couldn’t get words out as quickly as I wanted.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw shadows in the doorway, and I glanced that way to find exactly what I thought I'd find—Carl Case and his feverishly hot son, Noah, walking into the room together.

  I had imagined that they would come in like this, and I still wasn't prepared for it. Noah Case was definitely the man from the grocery store.

  His layered hair was still shaggy, but it was slightly shorter than it had been the first time I saw him. His face was the same, though. I remembered it clearly—straight nose, full lips, light eyes, tan skin, and perfectly scruffy facial hair growing along his jaw. He was so striking-looking that there was no mistaking him for someone else. I was intrigued and curious, and way more nervous than I should have been.

  He had on stylish California-type clothes—khaki pants that were cut like jeans with a no-collar, three-button shirt that was navy with subtle red stripes. He looked sharp but still casual and cool. He glanced all around as he made his way to the front of the classroom. He scanned the room, but it was my absolute favorite, bestest moment ever when our eyes met.

  He stopped speaking to his father when our eyes met, and for a moment, I thought maybe he recognized me—that maybe he remembered me from the grocery store. But then he glanced away so that he could talk to his dad again. They continued speaking to each other as they took a minute to set their things down on Mr. Lee's desk.

  Both of them came around to the front of the desk, leaning back and half sitting down on the edge of it, looking confident and comfortable.

  This guy was just cool.

  Both of them were, but Noah.

  Goodness.

  Noah.

  A person could be really good-looking and not be cool, but this guy had it all. He had that certain something—that thing that made you unable to look away from him.

  He was a younger, slightly more robust twin of his father. Carl wore round glasses and had short grey hair, but their faces were very similar. I found myself wishing I could hang out with this family.

  I had been lost in thought, but it registered that I heard various sounds from the females in the room as the gentlemen positioned themselves in front of everyone. There was a sigh or two, a gasp, and even an, "Aww," as the two men relaxed on the edge of the desk together.

  "Good morning," Noah said, scanning the room with a casual grin.

  "Good mo
rning!" said everyone in the whole room. We were all so chipper and quick to respond that it was almost comical. I hated that I wasn't the only one who was looking forward to meeting this guy.

  He gave us a smile and a casual wave. "My name is Noah Case. You met my father yesterday, and I'm sure he told you I'd be here today."

  "He showed us your picture," Willow said from the back of the room.

  Noah glanced at his father. "Thanks for that, Dad."

  Carl gave him a sincere nod that said 'you're welcome' even though Noah was being sarcastic.

  "We're going to be working on your final projects, and I have a few techniques I want to introduce to you—some methods I've added to my tool box over the years—things I find really helpful. We've got three weeks together, so I think I'll have plenty of time to cover everything I want to say. I made a list of concepts I want to share with you, but for now, I'd like you to get out your projects so I can see where you're all at. Are there any questions before we get started?"

  He glanced around the room and paused when his eyes passed over the people in the back. "Yes?" he asked.

  "How did you get people to notice your work?"

  Of course, it was Willow who was asking. I didn't even turn to look at her. I just watched Noah to see how he would answer. He didn't have time to say anything, however, because Willow kept speaking.

  "You know what I mean. So many people try to do what you're doing. How did you get people to notice you? What'd you do to stand out? Because I'm like you. I want to start my own line when I get out of here. I have a name for it, and I've been working on branding and everything, but I don't know how I'm going to deal with the competition. I bet it's really hard. How do you deal with the pressure?"

  Finally, after all that, Willow stopped talking.

  I had been looking at Noah the whole time. He was smiling, but there had been subtle shifts in his expression as she spoke. He hesitated for several seconds, and I could tell it was because he was considering how to respond.

  "Somewhere in there, you said you're going to start your brand when you get out of here, and that might be the first thing I would change if I were you."

  "What do you mean?" she asked.

  "Do you enjoy making jewelry?" he asked. "Or is someone making you come to this school?"

  "I enjoy it," she said.

  "Then maybe you should say when I finish or when I graduate instead of when I get out of here."

  "Yeah, but even still, how do I make a name for myself when I do? How do I do what you did?"

  Noah smiled at her. "The truth is, I didn’t know I did a certain thing. I just do what I do. I have failures and victories just like everybody else. No matter what your position in life is, there's always someone better off than you and someone worse off than you. There are some people learning how to make jewelry on YouTube right now. They would think you have it made for being fortunate enough to sit in this classroom and have professors and guest artist who are here educating you. To some people, you're the one who has made it. All we can do is be ourselves. I used to compare myself with other jewelers, and I learned a lesson about that from the most unlikely place. It changed me. It changed the way I saw things. Ultimately, it freed me from a lot of unnecessary comparison. Just take my word for it when I say you're better off doing what you do and not comparing yourself to anyone else."

  "What's the lesson you learned?" she asked.

  "Geez, Willow! Let him teach the class." One of the other girls spoke up, getting onto Willow for hounding him so much right off the bat. I hated to admit it, but I was curious about the lesson he had learned, too.

  "It's okay," Noah said. "I'll tell you the story, although it might not translate to something that will make much sense to you. You might not see it the same way I did. It might've been just one of those things that made sense to me in the moment."

  Noah adjusted on the edge of the desk, propping his leg up and making himself more comfortable.

  "It happened with some dogs we used to have. There was a big one and a little one. The big one was a mutt that looked like a Rottweiler mix, and the little one was one of those Scotty dogs. They were my wife's babies. She had them long before we ever got married. She loved those dogs—especially the bigger one, Max. He was her sidekick. So, one time, we were just all sitting around the living room together, hanging out. Sadie, my wife, was sitting on the floor next to Max who was just laid out like he owned the place. He was big. He weighed over a hundred pounds. Anyway, I watched as Sadie took throw pillows off of the couch and strategically put them in place one-by-one specifically for Max's ultimate comfort. The first one, she placed gingerly between his hind legs, perfectly positioned where his hips would be lined up ergonomically correct and his legs were separated—I'm talkin' ultimate comfort. Then, she repeated the process on his front legs. she carefully lifted up the top leg and slid a pillow between them. Max just let her do it. He loved it. Then, she took a third pillow off of the couch and expertly positioned it under his head. She was so gentle and careful, taking time out of her day to situate Max and make him the most comfortable he could possibly be. Then, she gave his belly a few long strokes."

  Noah paused and stared into space with a longing smile, imagining the sight.

  "Max was in heaven. I remember him letting out this groan of pleasure as Sadie rubbed him. She looked at me to make sure I saw how ridiculous he was."

  Noah paused again, but then he smiled and continued.

  "So, there was Max, in the lap of luxury, and a few feet away, we had this other dog, Shadow, a little Scotty dog. She was curled up, sleeping while all of this was going on. She was down by Sadie's feet. She hadn't moved the whole time. She was used to Max getting all the attention, anyway. But Sadie felt bad for leaving out the little one after doing that whole big pillow arrangement for Max. She leaned forward and gave that little one a few sympathy pats. And that was all it took. Max could not handle it. He shot up from his spot and ran over to Shadow, sniffing like crazy to find out why Sadie dared to bend over and give this other dog any attention at all."

  Noah smiled and shook his head.

  "Max taught me something that day. I saw a lot of myself in what he did. He had a perfectly wonderful position in life, with all those pillows placed perfectly in all the right crevices, and he got up and lost his whole set-up just to go see what Shadow was doing. Mind you, Shadow wasn't even getting half of the attention Max was, but even if she had been, it wouldn't have been worth him losing his place to see it happen. I guess this is kind of a long story to get around to my point, but that day, I decided that it wasn't my job to care what other people were doing. I saw, plain as day, that I would only mess with my own comfort by doing that. I felt like I needed to rest in whatever situation I was in, you know. It's not always easy to do. There's an element of trust to it. Max should have trusted that Sadie had hooked him up."

  Noah smiled, shaking his head in an irresistible, self-deprecating way.

  "I don't know if that made any sense to you or answered your question at all, but that's how I feel about keeping up with the competition in jewelry. Someone's always going to be doing better or worse than we are. I guess what I'm saying is that I just do my thing. I'm ultimately happier and more creative when I do that."

  Chapter 6

  That story about the dogs was touching and helpful. It was a practical reminder for me during a time of my life when other people's situations seemed more comfortable than mine. It was something I needed to hear, and I was thankful for Noah for taking the time to share it with us.

  But. (And there was a huge but.)

  Ironically, I couldn't deny the sense of disappointment that washed over me the instant he mentioned his wife.

  At the moment, her position in life seemed a lot more desirable than mine. Maybe that was just because I desired her husband.

  That was before I even knew he was her husband. Uhh. I cringed at myself for having that thought.

  Some of the un
controllable thoughts that drifted across my mind were simply shameful. I would never, ever go after another woman's husband, and it made me feel ashamed that I would have jealous feelings about her—especially after that whole big story.

  At least it came out right at the start.

  At least I didn't go three weeks swooning over this guy only to find out later that he was married. What if I had actually gone out on a limb and flirted with him? That would have been so bad. I would have felt terrible.

  Thankfully, I didn't have much time to think about it.

  We went straight to working on our projects.

  Carl and Noah started at opposite ends of the room, helping us individually. I was near the front on the right-hand side of the room, so I got to talk with Carl right at first and wouldn't see Noah until almost the very end.

  I got along beautifully with Carl. We seemed to hit it off. He didn't say anything about knowing who my father was, but I could tell he favored me a little compared to my classmates—at least the ones who were nearby and I could hear their conversations.

  "He loves you," Marisol said, whispering to me once Carl went to the next person.

  I smiled, staring at my pendant as I continued to work. "Nu-uh," I said, even though I knew it was true.

  Carl and I had only talked a little bit about the progress I had made on my project. We started talking about food after that, and we ended up swapping stories about our favorite cuisines and talking about different experiences we had in restaurants. We both loved Asian food. I wanted to tell him about the Japanese chef my dad hired on a regular basis, but I couldn't figure out a way to say it without it coming out that he was a personal chef, which seemed a little pretentious.

  "He talks to the rest of us for ten minutes, and he hangs out at your station for thirty," she said.

  I figured she was implying that Carl knew who my father was and he was giving me special treatment because of it. I just shrugged.

  "His wife died, you know," she said, leaning toward me and whispering even more quietly than before.