15 - Lane
Lane
There was yet another bad weather report predicted for the upcoming week, and true to his practical nature, Bear decided to have the crew put in overtime on Saturday to get ahead of it.
I would never admit it out loud, but it felt kind of nice to have them around.
The house was a symphony of raw texture and hushed energy.
The air was thick with the now familiar scent of sawdust and damp brick, with the rich aroma of the freshly-brewed coffee Silas made this morning cutting through it all.
Having the guys here felt so natural at this point that they might as well have been part of the furniture.
Even if not everyone was super happy about the arrangement.
Sandy, true to his nature of being a grumpy old bastard, had already yelled his displeasure from the second floor and continued his stellar communication through a series of angry thumps on the ceiling-floor above.
Silas was especially prone to eliciting these responses whenever he tried to, very discretely, knock something into place.
I could practically sense the old man’s seething from here.
But in a not too shocking turn of events, Bear was in the best mood I’d seen him in in a while. Instead of returning Sandy’s ire with his own, he simply revisited the blueprints on his tablet, then set Dax and Silas up with quieter tasks.
Awfully accommodating. Awfully generous.
I noticed Dax’s suspicious side-eye as Bear smiled his way through measuring some framing joints. Silas just looked confused, even a bit worried but all I could do was try and hide my own amused smile.
As I sipped on my second cup of coffee for the day, I briefly reflected on the most recent tally.
I’d actually crossed the line with both Dax and Bear.
The old Lane would’ve freaked out, immediately firing them to hire a replacement crew of octogenarians.
Come to think of it, the old Lane wouldn't have let her guard down enough to get into this position in the first place.
But that was the whole point.
I held onto Nancy’s words like a lifeline. She knew me better than anyone else, and I trusted her judgement. If there was one person in the world who had the guts and vocabulary to tell me that I fucked up straight to my face, it was her.
And all she’d done was encourage me to be a bit more creative in my endeavors. My smile widened as I thought about what she might have to say about my truck stunt with Bear. But just as quickly as the thought arrived, it was eclipsed by the bigger issue I’d been avoiding.
My mother.
When did thinking about the men in my life become my chosen source of distraction?
The guys were going to be busy for most of the day, with Silas hand-sanding the timber trim pieces and dry-fitting the vanity drawers while Dax was tasked with stripping wires and fishing conduit through the exposed wall studs. And Bear, of course, was overseeing everything on top of his own tasks.
I didn’t want to get in their way, regardless of how tempted I was to ask them for advice or comfort about today.
Now, that was something completely new to me.
I wasn’t sure if I’d actually even have the courage to vocalize it.
But it was an uncomfortably unfamiliar feeling, that draw I was fighting to invite one of them inside my head and see if they could sort through the mess as easily as they worked through the demolition rubble.
I was being ridiculous.
I downed the rest of my coffee and left my perch on the kitchen counter to get ready for the day. My feet dragged along the lower-level hallway, my mind seizing on any physical distraction to delay the inevitable meeting.
I found myself focusing on the raw, open ribcage of the half-demolished bathroom wall, tracking the sharp silver glint of Dax’s newly run copper wiring. My eyes lingered on a pair of discarded historic subflooring planks, their ancient water stains mirroring the internal mess muddying my mind.
Huh, look at you. Knowing all this construction vernacular and shit, I thought to myself, feeling kind of proud of myself for retaining all the information Silas had shared with me over the last month.
In the chaotic sanctuary of my bedroom, I threw open the closet doors and tried to fish around for an outfit to wear.
Suddenly, my wardrobe felt way too sparse of options.
This skirt was too short, those pants too informal, that blouse way too fancy.
I couldn’t figure out what to wear to a simple coffee meeting, and that would’ve been a ridiculous realization if the person I was meeting wasn’t my mother.
“Hey, Lane?”
I spun around. Silas was poking his head through the crack of the door. He gave me an apologetic smile.
“I’m sorry to bug you. Do you have a minute?” he asked.
“Sure, Sy. As long as you don’t mind me throwing together something to wear while you talk.
What’s up?” I asked, going back to rummaging around for the impossible.
I heard him come inside and then stop. When I turned around again, he looked kind of uncomfortable, not sure what to do with himself in the privacy of my room.
I nodded to the bed. “You can sit if you like.”
“Thanks.” He took a seat, and it was a little funny to see his massive 6’4” frame on my bed. “I just wanted to come in and check on you. You seemed a little off lately. I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help.”
My heart constricted. I was reminded yet again of how deeply nurturing Silas was. He offered his presence like a shield, demanding absolutely nothing in return simply because it was his nature. Just because he cared.
There was a vague flash of guilt that I tried to suppress. Nance was right, Silas and I had never actually started dating or even done anything to hint at the possibility besides just the time we’d spent together. That didn’t mean that I was ignorant to my own growing feelings towards him.
I finally settled on an ankle-length wool overcoat in camel, paired with a black cashmere turtleneck sweater and high-waisted charcoal trousers. I’d go with my pointed-toe leather boots to round it out. I didn’t care anymore what she’d think of the outfit, though I could imagine what she’d say.
I was about to ask Sy to leave when I discovered that I didn’t necessarily want him to.
There wasn’t that discomfort I might’ve expected at the thought of sharing the same space as him while undressing.
And I figured, what the hell. I was already in the business of making spontaneous decisions before my default mindset could kick in.
“I have to change,” I said, my voice tempered. “You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to.”
Sy’s eyes widened slightly, and I saw him swallow. But he just nodded, then closed his eyes and turned his head away for good measure. I felt a jolt of electricity snap over my skin like static while I took my clothes off and slipped into the new outfit. My pulse hitched.
Was that disappointment I felt? Offense maybe?
Or maybe it was the sharp, dizzying friction between frustration and heat that I’d offered him the opportunity to lay things out, and he’d declined in the most gentlemanly way possible.
But he was still here, and the fact he didn’t leave altogether was the most damning piece of evidence that he wanted me.
And God, I wanted him too.
I wanted him so badly that I immediately shoved that desire away, scared of its implications. He was clearly holding himself back, and I certainly was not going to push past his boundaries.
“All done,” I announced, moving to the full-length mirror to fix up my hair.
The air in the room still felt charged, and I deliberately avoided Sy’s gaze in the mirror even though my skin prickled underneath it.
“You’re nervous about meeting your mom, aren’t you?” he asked softly.
My fingers fumbled in my hair, but I recovered quickly. “Yeah. It’s…it’s going to be the first time I’ve seen her since the reading of my uncle’s will. I haven’t been nervous about a meeting in much longer than that.”
Now our eyes did catch in the mirror. He watched me silently, and heat began building in the back of my neck. I’d shared more than I intended to. But instead of harping on about it, Sy simply stood up and held out a hand.
“I think I know something that’ll help with the nerves,” he said with a gentle smile that pulled the knots in my stomach even more taut. “Trust me?”
I didn’t think about it for as long as I thought I would. “I do.”
And it was true. I trusted Sy with more than I could acknowledge right now, but when he led me out the backdoor and into my yard, I began to seriously reconsider that choice.
“Sy?” I asked, my voice rising with a warning as a familiar-looking little tabby hobbled into view. “That better not be who I think it is.”
Silas gave me a guilty grin. “Okay, I know, I know, but just let me explain, please. I promise, I haven’t been keeping him in your yard.
I set up an insulated shelter box just outside the property line in the alleyway.
He just comes in here when he hears my voice and I only wanted to bring him over because I know he can make you feel better. ”
I looked uncertainly at the little pitiful creature. He looked a little better than the last time I made his acquaintance. He still had half an ear missing, but his limp was noticeably improving and his coat looked undoubtedly cleaner and well-groomed.
“You’ve been taking care of him, haven’t you?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at Sy.
He shrugged those massive shoulders. “Guilty as charged, Counselor. And just for your peace of mind, he’s officially bathed and flea-free.”
A sorry little meow dragged my attention back to the little squatter and even though I wanted to be mad, I just couldn’t muster the anger. How could I be upset that this giant, muscled guy who could haul cinder blocks and mortar-bags like they weighed nothing, was a gooey, soft mess for cats.
And as though trying to play up his own charm, the tabby rubbed himself against my ankle, purring like a tiny vibrating engine. I leaned with a sigh.
“Okay, Van Gogh,” I said in defeat as I scratched his head. “You’re kind of cute, I guess.”
Sy’s goofy smile was contagious. But he wasn’t wrong. My anxiety actually started to go down a notch or two as Van Gogh brushed up against my hand, still purring affectionately. And despite myself, I was actually glad he came back after all.
*
The fog blanket outside of the coffee shop was bone-chilling and I tugged my coat around my body as tightly as I could before heading inside.
Past the fogged up windows and hiss of an espresso machine, the little quaint place was relatively busy.
I looked around the occupied tables until I spotted my mother’s gray-streaked red hair in a corner booth, her face listlessly turned to the window.
I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. I could do this.
“Mom,” I said by way of greeting, sliding into the booth opposite her.
She looked at me, inclining her head but her eyes were sharp with appraisal. Rose looked me up and down slowly, then said my name in return but in a way that let me know I already failed a test.
“Lane. It’s lovely to see you again, dear.”
A lie. I knew exactly how to spot one.
We ordered drinks I knew I wasn’t going to touch. Low acoustic music in the background did little to mask the heavy tension between us until I finally decided to take the plunge.
“So. What was it that you wanted to see me about?” I asked formally.
There was no preamble or pretense after that. Her eyes narrowed over the rim of her steaming coffee mug.
“I’m here to talk some sense into you, Lane. Sign the Graystone over to me and there’ll be no need for all this drama,” she said.
“I’m not the one who decided to get the courts involved,” I replied.
“You forced my hand.” She set the coffee down, her face hardened. “It's a money pit, and this HOA business is a public embarrassment to our family. Hand over the deed, and I will put in a good word with a senior partner at a firm downtown. They’ll take you on by Monday.”
My ponytail felt too tight. “Negotiations usually involve an incentive. My place is and always has been in public defense. And I’m not giving up Uncle Ricky's house no matter how much you try to threaten me.”
“You are slumming it,” she scoffed. “Your uncle wasn't in his right mind when he left you that property and that insurance policy. I will contest the will and tie that entire estate up in probate court for years."
I leaned forward, my voice low and sharp. “Try it. Uncle Ricky lived in Switzerland for years. The will was executed under strict Swiss notary law, and the life insurance policy names me as the direct, sole beneficiary.”
“You’re not the only lawyer in the world,” Rose snapped back. It was interesting to see how little she even cared to wear a mask around me. She hadn’t worn one for years. “We can see how far this goes.”
“Do what you have to do. But hear me now and hear me clearly.”
She paused, her hand hovering over her purse.
“If you follow through with this threat," I said, each word a cold, deliberate strike, "then we are completely done. I’ll cut you out of my life completely and I never want to see you again.”
Rose stared at me, her eyes flashing with pure fury. She stood up, throwing cash on the table and then violently grabbing her leather gloves. "You are just like your father. Stubborn and blind."
She stormed out into the dense white fog. The glass door clicked shut, leaving me completely alone. Something in me broke watching her leave. She didn’t even bother to fight or talk it out.
She’d all but implied I wasn’t even worth the effort, just the lawyer fees. And even though I’d thought I closed my heart off to my mother years ago, there’d been just enough of her left inside to tear a fresh wound when she walked away.
*
The curb directly in front of the Graystone was completely bare—no sign of Dax’s bike. I glanced down the narrow side alley where Bear usually parked the Cornerstone truck, only to find it empty. Nothing but wet tire tracks in the dirty slush.
I was freezing, my body aching for a hot shower and comfort food. I pushed the front door open, expecting total darkness. Instead, a warm glow spilled from the kitchen. I walked in, my chest tightening as I found Bear sitting on a barstool, a heavy bottle of red wine already uncorked in his hand.
Huh. So miracles were real.