Chapter 15
We pull in to the driveway, and my dad is watering the grass.
“Hey, hi,” I say, suddenly aware of how little I’m wearing and just how windswept it all is.
I think my dress has dried completely, but I’m wearing Stewart’s Marian hat and no shoes.
“This is Stewart,” I say finally. Stewart follows me across the lawn and offers his hand to my dad.
“And Stewart, this is my dad, Freddie Brick.”
“Hello,” Stewart says as they shake hands. I watch his face. Even though he’s in his washed-too-many-times T-shirt and his hair is in disarray from where his hat used to be, he’s putting up his CEO guard.
“Nice to meet you,” my dad says. “I’ve been meaning to thank you for the roof.”
“That is my pleasure,” he says. “I would have paid more, but Dolly’s a terrible negotiator.”
My dad laughs. “She is, at that. She got three bids and went with the contractor who can’t start right away.”
“Hey! She had the best bid. And this guy won’t be able to pay me until August twenty-second,” I say. “It was a calculated decision.”
Stewart turns to me with his most earnest expression. “I could have paid you earlier. That would have been no problem.”
“Thanks, but no, this is fine. We can enjoy a little more porch time before all the mess. Christopher’s going to hate it.”
My dad asks, “You’re in construction. Want to come in and see the plans? It’s an asphalt roof and she’s using some newfangled insulation material under it. Going to cut my heating bill in half.”
Stewart’s about to say yes, but I’m not ready for him to be in my house. After the intimacy of the day, all that exposed skin and all the oversharing I did, I can’t walk him into my personal space. “That’s okay, Dad. Stewart should get back. We had a long day.”
“Yep,” Stewart says, and turns to the boys, who are sitting on their bikes, practicing their knots. “We did. I should go. But it was nice to meet you.” He shakes my dad’s hand again.
Stewart stops to say goodbye to the boys, and I watch. Gus unties his knot and reties it in record time. He smiles up at Stewart, who says something that makes Clay laugh. Gus is telling Stewart something, like multiple sentences in a row. I think today was good for everyone.
When he’s gone, my dad asks, “What’s going on here?”
“Image rehabilitation at its finest.”
“Was there press out on the high seas?” He’s eyeing me suspiciously. “You seem awfully familiar. In his hat.”
“Good, that was the whole point of the day. I can’t show up at the Whitfields’ pretending to be gaga over a guy I know nothing about. And he was really great with Gus and Clay, taught them to do whatever that is.” I gesture at them with my head.
He gives me his closed-mouth smile. It’s the one that says, Hey, I’m smiling so everything’s okay, but also I’m sorry about the world letting you down so many damn times.
“I love that you’re having fun, Doll. But let’s just remember what this is, okay?”
“Trust me, this is all just fun. We might even end up being friends,” I say.
I should write those words on Post-its and put them on my bathroom mirror.
They’re going to be my mantra for surviving this thing with Stewart without making a fool of myself.
“Plus we’re probably a lock for the order for the Starlight Gala, right? ”
His face brightens. It’s about the money for sure, but also about sticking it to Miller’s Seafood in Newport. “I hope so. I think now that Gus is a year older, we won’t be so shorthanded. And maybe his friend can help.”
I smile at him. “Yes. Nice about that too, right?”
“Just the best, honey. There’s nothing like having a friend at thirteen.”