by Jody Kaye
“A degree isn’t an indication of intelligence,” he said, without animosity for Rose’s words. “Those guys who you think are brutish, banging two-by-fours, have serious math and science skills. They might not be rocket scientists, but they know their jobs. A fraction of an inch can throw every other measurement off. You’d live in something that looks like the Leaning Tower of Piza if we weren’t careful.” Ross angled his palms askew.
“Now me, I’ve always liked to read. Can’t build shelves in the truck, and without an address they didn’t let me renew my library card. So I reread the one book I have whenever the mood strikes.”
“You read books over again?”
“You watch reruns on television?” he asked sardonically. It was the first time he’d talked down to her. “Really, Rose, what is the point in spending all that cash to make sure you possess a novel when all it is going to do is sit on a shelf becoming something that you have no use for anymore. That’s clutter and a bad investment. At least loan the thing out so somebody else can get enjoyment out of it. Anyhow,” he began somewhat lighter, “There is always something you don’t catch the first time you read a story. A reference that went over your head. A joke you forgot was funny, the same way you’ll laugh out loud at the punchline of a sitcom you’ve seen a bunch of times. Best thing about a book is that you don’t have to wait for it either. Pick up those pages and flip to your favorite part.”
“You can record your favorite show and fast forward,” she suggested.
“No VCR or cable hookup in my vehicle.” He popped the last bite of sandwich into his mouth and licked his fingers.
“I don’t understand. If you are so successful then why do you live in your car?”
“It’s a truck,” he reminded her with joking indignation.
“Fine. Truck. Why don’t you get an apartment?” Didn’t everyone need a small space that qualified as a roof over their head?
“I had one, as a matter of fact.”
“You did?” Rose was skeptical after Ross’s further response that he gave it up. “Why on earth would you do that?”
“Someone stiffed me about six months back. It wasn’t a whole lot, but worrying over how I was going to afford the lawyer’s take of the money made the choice easier. If a judge enforced the contract so that the company got paid what it was owed I’d still be bleeding from court fees. As it was I couldn’t make payroll and purchase materials without borrowing on credit while waiting for a resolution. So I cut my personal expenses. It was an easy choice. I was never home. Didn’t have a lot of stuff. Without the added cost, my crew got paid and I was back on my feet before I knew it without going into considerable hock to anyone.”
“So why don’t you get another apartment?”
“I don’t need it. Why waste the money when everything’s fine the way it is?”
“What happens when winter comes?” It got downright chilly fast at night in the fall.
“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.” Ross tugged the corner of the sleeping bag as if it kept him warm enough that there was no reason for her concern.
“Chips?” he offered pulling a folded bag from the blue cooler.
“I’m more sweet than salty,” she said, noting that there weren’t more than crumbs left. “Go ahead, enjoy them yourself.”
“Good to know.” He created a funnel and tilted his head back to catch the crispy potatoes between his lips. Munching, he continued, “So what should I put on the menu for our next picnic, friend? Cookies, cupcakes?”
“You want to do this again?”
“I’m thinking you could bend my arm. Unless you didn’t have any fun in comparison to sitting there on the stoop pining away?”
“I was doing nothin’ of the sort! You make me sound like a puppy waiting on its master.” She scowled.
He smiled as the lilt of her southern accent overtook the normal smooth tempo of her voice. He liked it natural and every so often whatever that well-bred way she enunciated words slipped. It made Rose—as a nothing more than a friend, he insisted to himself—more approachable.
“I like buttercream… and chocolate. I love chocolate.” If Ross was going to tease her then she was gunning to get at least one thing she liked out of the deal.
“I’m big on those little round sandwich cookies. My gramps used to give me those as a kid.”
“As evidenced by the empty plastic bag in your truck bed. You may want to clean that garbage out before some animal decides to move in with you… And yeah, bring those next time.”
“He’s weird, Lil. What kind of man lives in a truck?” Rose peered between her breasts to ensure the cups of her new bikini only exposed what she wanted on display. It was a silly notion, but if Ross’s crew had commented on her appearance then Rose figured Ross might be apt to notice her sunbathing by the pool. He’d never admitted if he’d seen her out here. On one hand, he was a gentleman to look out for her. On the other hand, was Ross not a red-blooded American sailor?
“Apparently one that you’re interested in.” Lily Anne smirked watching Rose’s light brows rise over her sunglasses. She’d struck a nerve. “You should put us all out of our misery and admit it.”
The fact that Ross hadn’t been on the job site since their picnic was driving Rose insane. Without a home, he had no phone number to call. In a weak moment, Rose dialed the number on his business card. When an answering machine picked up she hung up, relieved. She hadn’t a clue what she was going to say.
“Cue you sayin’, ‘are not’. Then I’ll respond ‘are too’. Face it, Rose, you haven’t stopped grumbling about Ross Cavanaugh for the past twenty minutes. You keep lifting your sunglasses to get a better view of what’s going on in there. It couldn’t be more obvious that you are waiting for him to show. So stop beating around the bush. Tell that man that you like him.”
“Do not.”
“Um, hmm…” Lil shook her head. “Oh, there he is. Don’t jump up too quick. It makes you look overeager, sugar. We wouldn’t want that now, would we? That’ll throw a monkey wrench in your whole ploy to get his attention by acting disinterested.” Rose’s shadow cut the sun and Lil laughed, making a nasal sound as her tongue hit her palette. Lily Anne tried not to double over at Rose’s splotchy face. She’d caught her red-handed when Rose’s attention shot to the new floor to ceiling sunroom windows.
Rose glared down at Lily Anne, gritting her teeth over the other young woman calling her out. She’d bounded out of the lounger as if it were on fire. The pads of her feet were now burning from the heat radiating off the concrete patio while Rose tried to regain her cool. She put her hands on her hips, jutting one out as if her intention was to stand and continue their casual chat that was anything but stress-free for Rose.
“It’s a damn good thing you’ve been my best friend so long, Lily Anne Andrew,” she remarked with sass, snatching her cover-up and tossing it over her head. “How’d you feel if I let onto Rodger all the things you’d like him to do to you?”
“I’m pretty sure he figured that one out for himself already. P.S. when a boy kisses you, don’t let him back you up into the horns on the front grill of his daddy’s Cadillac. I got gored like a runner at Pamplona.” Lil rolled to the side and pulled up the bottom of her bathing suit, exposing a perfect bullseye bruise on her tush.
Rose’s mouth gaped when Lil’s blue eyes suggested that she’d done more than kiss Rodger.
“For heaven’s sake, stop catching flies and go get us something to drink. You are dying to have a reason to go in the house. Do us both a favor, use my need for a screwdriver as a reason to go talk to Ross.” Lil arched a challenging eyebrow.
With a flair for the dramatic, Rose straightened her spine. She turned, shaking her chin with exaggeration, as if Lil was treating her like a servant, and headed towards the morning porch.
Loud as a jaybird finds themself naked, Lily Anne sang out, “Get him to ask you out on a real date!”
Rose cringed, closing her eyes to
steel off any embarrassment, hoping no one heard.
The air conditioning wasn’t yet blowing through the installed ductwork in the kitchen and spread of adjoining rooms Cavanaugh remodeled. The electrician who’d been busy earlier wiring fixtures stood talking to a carpenter and painter. With not much more than the natural light, the room wasn’t over-hot. The cool terracotta tiles relieved the pain in her feet, massaging away little aches with its random bumpiness.
She looked around wondering where Ross disappeared to in such a short span. A lone paintbrush lay across a can of dark stain by the new, long window casements. Ross was right, the open expanse of windows gave a full view of anyone by the pool. She saw Lily Anne and grinned like a cat. Ross was either blind or lying that only the crew saw her sunbathing.
Rose spied a single remaining gray garbage can off in the sunroom and remembered the random nails lying about. She pushed her arches up, tip-toeing toward the hall and into the foyer to find a goblet and vodka from the living room’s built-in bar.
Adding extra fingers to the tall glass for good measure, Rose scooted back out of the room in search of orange juice in the summer kitchen. Loud voices reverberated, bouncing down the grand staircase and against the rounded walls.
“Those three rooms are almost completed. In all seriousness, you’re not implying that I’m supposed to rip everything out on my dime?”
Rose’s lips made a little ‘o’. She’d wondered how long it would take for Eric to locate the kitchen. There were moments that she imagined the scenario of breaking the news to her father in her head, yet she never found reasons to rehearse what she’d say in the moment. Getting by on a wing and a prayer worked best.
She set the vodka down on an end table and crossed herself even though she wasn’t Catholic. “I hope I do that right. Really, I don’t mean any disrespect at all,” she said to the ceiling before bounding up the stairs to Eric’s office.
“This is not the kitchen we discussed the morning I paid the first installment.” Eric’s finger stabbed down at the blueprints on the desk.
“I don’t disagree, Mr. Kingsbrier. What I’ve been trying to explain to you is that these are the final plans the design firm provided. Your signature is right there in black and white. I’ve already taken a loss on this, having to return the original building materials and rush order the new cabinetry. We moved up the timeline per your instructions. If you’d shown up to inspect anything before today—when changes were easy to accommodate—then this fiasco wouldn’t have happened.”
“I’m a busy man,” Eric refuted the insinuation that he hadn’t cared. There were always other matters of more significance to attend to.
“So am I. This isn’t the only project I have on the books, but I make an effort to be here to ensure that you’re getting quality from my workers.”
Oh, God. Rose thought, listening in at the door. This is not good.
Rose had waded in the gray area when Ross asked about the abrupt style changes. She answered his questions with as much truthfulness as possible. Her excitement over being responsible to provide Benita a gorgeous kitchen had been contagious, leading Ross to believe that all was on the up and up. There was beauty in what Rose did. Therefore, they were white lies and not all lies of omission. She’d done it all without malice.
She scampered down the hall. In her room, she pulled off the cover-up, letting it drop on the pile of cast-off clothing. Rose snagged a modest, wrinkle-free sundress from her floor. Then she rifled through her handbag while pushing a pair of flats onto her feet. Without a cursory glance to check her appearance, she ran back across the open balcony to her father’s office.
He was berating Ross, but Cavanaugh was standing firm that his crew wasn’t touching anything until he got his money.
“I did not authorize this!” The antithesis of dignity and respect, Eric was losing his patience. Meanwhile, steadfast and calm, Ross stood his ground.
It made Rose’s heart do a selfish little leap watching someone treat Eric the same way he did to others. It allowed her to stride into the room with confidence and poise.
“It was me,” she interrupted. “I had the designs changed based on what Benita needed to do her job efficiently. The kitchen you chose was sub-par. It lacked the appliances and storage space. The original plans were outtawack.” Rose jumbled her ill-chosen words while trying to think on her feet. She tried not to stop too long, hoping that with a little more practice in business she’d get better at proving her point. Her slang wasn’t credible enough to prove her case, but she kept at the argument. “There was no consistency between the Tudor design, current interior woodwork and what frankly looked like a space-aged fast food joint someone plopped into the spacial rooms. Those designs lessened the perceived value of the property.”
“I have no desire to sell this property so the valuation makes little difference.”
Rose rolled her eyes. Every bloody cent Eric squeezed out of a stone made a difference. Hence, his comment from the get-go that he wasn’t willing to pay for everything if there was somehow to get away with it. Eric liked to forget that others had a livelihood to maintain and worked as hard for their dollars.
“We both know you have no intent to set foot in that kitchen once Cavanaugh leaves the premises. What makes no difference in your life is the end result: a kitchen that doesn’t function.”
Ross watched, trying to bank his amusement as Rose when toe-to-toe with Eric Kingsbrier. She was a hot ticket. He shouldn’t have put it past her to be the one who’d mucked up the project. Then again, he still had a crew who needed paychecks and wasn’t going get stiffed again because some rich girl pulled a fast one on her daddy.
“You went behind my back to change these plans. I did not sign this paper, so who did?
“Me, and I’ll pay the price.”
“You’re right you will.”
“No. I mean I’m paying Cavanaugh’s price.” Rose whipped out her personal checkbook. “This is the kitchen I want for Benita to have. I have no problem with the cost, including the fees associated with your change in overhead, Mr. Cavanaugh. So please remit them on top of what I’m writing this out for now.” Rose gleaned the amount from the invoice sitting on her father’s blotter and signed her name with a flourish before handing Ross the check.
He accepted with hesitation as Eric’s words charged at her, “I should have placed a caveat that you weren’t eligible for that trust until you were twenty-five. You need more time to mature instead of wasting what I’ve provided to you on—”
“On a functioning space in your house, that I have no claim to because you’re lookin’ to pull some patriarchal, high-browed, marry-me-off-to-get-the-son-your-dead-wife-never-bore-you montage? Go ahead, Daddy! Take the money back.” Rose threw her checkbook across the desk. Both men stiffened at her insinuation. “Call the sheriff and have me arrested for forgery. Then try explaining that to your business associates. Think anyone is going to wed the girl who’s already shown the capability to extort funds from her kin?”
“Rose, this is your home.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Eric. This hasn’t been a home for a very long time.”
“I’m sorry that you feel that way.”
“And I’m sorry that Mr. Cavanaugh had to see how someone as distinguished as you does business behind closed doors. You’d looked for any reason to stiff Ross. Presently, you’re going to make it up to him with a glowing reference and another project.” Rose said, feeling rather empowered now that their dirty laundry was out in the open.
“What else, pray you tell me, needs fixing at Kingsbrier?” Eric leaned his knuckles on the desktop challenging her.
“The stable.”
“There is a barn out there for what little equipment needs storage.”
“I said the stable. It’s in disrepair. I’m suggesting razing and replacing it.”
“To what course? We haven’t had animals in close to a decade.”
“Beautification at the
very least. It’s an eyesore at the corner of our property. And, as of late, I’ve considered purchasing a horse.” Rose failed to mention that Bramble had popped into her head mere seconds ago. She was running a fine line of haggling versus being downright bratty, but she figured why stop while she was on a roll.
“That will be difficult to accomplish with no funds.” He held her checkbook waist-high, between his thumb and forefinger, bouncing it up and down to tempt her.
“I don’t disagree. I can live without the animal. You, however, can’t maintain your image when I side with Cavanaugh on your treatment of him.”
She heard Ross blow out a breath behind her. The rapid blood coursing through her veins as she fought for his future made her forget Ross was even in the room. This must be the euphoric high Eric felt in the boardroom. Defending him almost gave Rose purpose.
“I’m not—” Ross began before Rose cut him off.
“Leaving this office until Mr. Kingsbrier agrees to the reference and a start date to build a new stable on the opposite side of the property. After all, Daddy” she said, saccharine sweet. “You seem to want this to feel like home.”
“I will provide the reference. You will provide payment.” Eric Kingsbrier handed her checkbook back.
Rose accepted her bankbook with trepidation, waiting to be stuck by viper’s teeth. Her fingers tingled a bit. She wasn’t sure if it was victorious elation or an omen of something to come.
Her attention snapped back as Eric’s attaché snicked closed. She caught her father saying something about how going forward Ross should deal strictly with Rose and then he left. Somehow his demeanor didn’t seem as if he was running out with his tail between his legs. That worried Rose. Except Eric planned to stay out of her way and that was triumphant. Perhaps he did see a hint of potential that she’d hold her own in a boardroom.
“Wow, Rose that was um…”
“Long overdue.” She huffed, leaning back against the beautiful desk.
“I was going to go with uncomfortable, but watching that unfold makes me hesitate to disagree with you right now.” He held up the check, walking behind her and picking up a frame. “Thanks for doing the right thing.”