Chapter 8 #2
I give her a little laugh, because that’s exactly how I’m feeling. “Oh, are you my contractor’s sister?” I ask.
She gives a small snort and rolls her eyes. “Okay, so Jameson has clearly told you nothing?”
“Wait, you’re Jameson’s sister Jules?”
Years ago, he’d told me about his two little sisters, Audrey and Jules, who he’d raised after their father left. It had been one of the ways he’d opened up to me the night of our dinner—the one I’d thought had been a turning point for us, but in the end, hadn’t meant anything to him.
“Yep,” she says. “Can I come in and explain why I’m here?”
Jules steps into the entryway, and I introduce her to Paige. And that’s when I notice the tool belt hanging around her hips, mostly covered by the open flannel.
“Wait a second,” I say. “You’re the contractor?”
She gives me a dazzling smile, the kind that must knock men right off their feet.
She looks like someone who’d be a social media influencer, and I’m already wondering if I should search up her Get Ready With Me videos so I can figure out how her skin glows like that.
Then again, standing here with her flannel and her tool belt, she doesn’t strike me as the type that posts videos of her skincare and makeup routine.
“Yeah. My sister and I run one of the few all-female construction companies in Boston. Audrey’s the architect, and I’m the structural engineer and lead contractor, and we only hire female subcontractors.”
She’s so young; I want to ask how she can possibly already be qualified to do this. Five years ago she was a freshman in college.
“I’ve been doing this since I was a kid,” she says with a laugh, as though she can read my thoughts.
“My dad owned this company, and I was raised doing this right alongside him since I was old enough to swing a hammer. I’ve had my contractor’s license for years, and got my degree in structural engineering more recently.
Jameson thought you might prefer to have women working on this project, so that there aren’t men in and out of your house all day. I hope that’s okay?”
“That’s . . .” Unbelievably thoughtful. “Perfect.”
“Great! Oh, I almost forgot,” she says, reaching under her flannel and pulling two plastic hammers out of the back of her tool belt.
She hands one to each of the girls, and as they scramble to get down with their new toy, Jules says “They can’t do any damage with those, but it’s probably safest if they play in the finished room off the kitchen. Or upstairs?”
“I can take the girls,” Paige offers, “so you two can chat.”
Once the girls are corralled into the only room on the first floor not in a state of construction, Jules and I head upstairs.
“I love that it’s already fully finished up here,” I tell her.
“It’s so nice to at least have this part of the house livable while the downstairs is being finished.
Can you tell me about the contractor who was working on this house before you came on?
Jameson only told me that the guy was problematic? ”
“Woody?” Jules rolls her eyes. “Yeah, he has a history of shoddy workmanship and leaving after he gets the final payment but before the actual work is done.”
We’re standing in the middle of the primary bedroom, and my eyes track over to that bathroom. It’s such a luxurious retreat, and exactly what I would have designed for myself. “Well, at least he did a good job bringing my husband’s vision for the upstairs to life.”
Jules opens her mouth to respond but is cut off by Jameson’s firm voice from behind me. “Yep. Good thing he was able to bring Josh’s vision to life like this.”
I turn to see why Jameson’s voice is borderline hostile, but I don’t miss the look Jules is giving him.
Behind me, he’s leaning up against the frame of the bedroom door.
I’ve never seen him in anything but a suit, so the jeans and button-up sweater that he’s wearing catch me off guard.
I didn’t know he knew how to do casual, in any aspect of life.
He forces a smile, but a muscle in his jaw ticks. Clearly there’s something I don’t know about this contractor, but maybe I can get Jules to tell me more later. I feel like we’re going to get along great.
“So before you move in,” Jules says, and I turn my attention back to her, “we should probably address these floors. No point in moving everything in, then having to clear the space to refinish them later on. You want to stick with the hardwood? Or did you want to carpet over them?”
We chat about the logistics, but I’m insistent on keeping the hardwood. Jules tells me she can get her floor refinisher in to take care of them this week, and Jameson insists that it’s done early in the week so that even with a few days to cure, we can move in next weekend.
“Where are you staying for now?” he asks.
“We’re at Paige’s.” It’s a tight fit because she only has one spare bedroom, and between the two pack ’n plays for the girls, my bed, and our luggage, I feel like we’re stacked on top of each other.
“A week is probably good because I need to go get some furniture for the bedrooms and I’m sure it’ll take a few days to get it delivered.
Also, my car and our personal stuff from our old house are both being delivered this week,” I tell Jules, and I know she hears the worry in my voice.
“We’ll put everything on the finished porch when it’s delivered,” she tells me.
“And I’ll arrange for someone to plow the driveway this winter. Want me to see about getting an automatic garage door installed too?” Jameson asks.
I glance sideways at him, trying to figure out why he’s being so helpful. “You’ve already done so much,” I tell him. “I can take care of the garage door.”
“I can do it right now while you’re talking to Jules about planning out the kitchen.”
Jules leads me downstairs while Jameson takes her tape measure and heads outside toward the garage.
She’s speaking rapid-fire, telling me about how she’ll get the insulation in while the electrician installs the lights, then the walls and ceilings can go up.
“By the time you move in at the end of the week, all the walls will be closed up and there’ll be nothing that’ll pose any danger for the girls.
Then it’ll just be about putting the finishing touches on, and getting the kitchen done.
But it’ll be a while before you have a fully functioning place to cook. ”
“Don’t worry.” I laugh. “I don’t do that much cooking. I’ll need to get a refrigerator, but as long as I have a toaster oven and a microwave, I can make do for a long time.”
She looks at me with so much sympathy it’s almost amusing. “Okay. That’s it. You’re coming over for dinner at least once a week. I love to cook and I always make too much food.”
My mouth moves, but no words come out. “I feel like that would be a huge imposition. I’ve got two kids!”
“And they can play with my nephew. He’s four,” she says, and I’m so busy trying to figure out if this means Jameson has a kid, that I almost don’t notice that she keeps talking. “Audrey’s always worried that he doesn’t get enough time around other kids.”
“No siblings?”
“No, she’s a single mom. And he doesn’t have any cousins or anything. But at least he’s in preschool with other kids his age now. I bet he’d love hanging out with your girls and being a ‘big friend’ to them.”
“Do you live with them?” She’s talking about her family like I already know them, but aside from knowing that Jameson raised her and her sister, I’m clueless about their family.
“Oh yeah, all of us live together. When Audrey and I were in college, Jameson took our family home in the South End and converted it into a two-family. So Audrey, my nephew, Graham, and I live on the first two floors, and Jameson lives on the third.”
“Hey.” I hear Jameson’s gravelly voice, once again from behind me, and it surprises me more than it should, because I thought he was outside.
“I’ve got the kitchen plans from Audrey,” he tells Jules.
“She just dropped them off, and she’s taking Graham to hockey practice, but she said she’ll catch up with you later. ”
“Don’t you need to be at hockey practice, since you’re the coach and all?” she asks him, and her voice has a teasing quality to it.
“I’ll head over when we’re done here.”
Jules takes the plans and lays them out on the floor, squatting down to point out how she and Audrey thought it would make the most sense to use the space.
As she talks about where to add a pantry and how we can use builder-grade cabinetry and then customize it and refinish it so that I can have a kitchen in a month instead of three months, it really does feel like they’ve already thought of everything.
“You’re just nodding,” Jules says as she looks over at me. “You’re not saying anything.”
“That’s because I agree with everything you’re saying.”
“Seriously? There isn’t anything you want to change? You like the built-in range hood, the island, everything?”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “You’ve obviously already studied the space and thought about the best way to fit a lot of function into it. I’m fine letting you run with that.”
“Oh my God,” she says as she grips my forearm, laughing. “You are my fucking dream client.” Then she looks up at Jameson, where he stands against the wall watching us. “Where in the world did you find her? And can you find me more clients like her?”
He bites his lip for a second before responding, then gives me a small nod and says, “Unlikely. She’s pretty much one of a kind.” Then, pushing off the wall, he adds, “I’ve got to head to the rink.” He walks out without even bothering to say goodbye.
“If you ever want to laugh so hard you pee your pants, you should come with us to the rink on a Saturday morning. Watching Jameson coach a bunch of four-to-six-year-olds is nothing short of hysterical.”
“Are you laughing because of the kids, or because of him?
“Both. Come next Saturday, you’ll see.”