Chapter Six #4
Flora stopped dead in her tracks and just stared at the home—perfectly placed on the cliff, looking toward Pebble Beach, all of the California coastline staring back.
That would have been enough but then there was the green field, the reedy marsh, and the picturesque Monet bridge.
Not to mention the sheep bleating and grazing in the background.
A salty sea breeze blew off the water, seagull shrieks echoed, cypress trees jutted out from rocks, and the sunlight danced on the water in shades of lemon and glittering diamond.
Rich people were crazy.
“Why in the world would you sell this place?” she asked, hurrying after him.
Finn opened the door and shrugged. “We just never come here.”
Flora knew this wasn’t a lie. They were never in Carmel, save Christmas. But it still seemed insane to sell such a gorgeous home. She’d have kept it even if she only went once a year.
“What a tragedy,” she muttered, setting her things down and staring out at the dark blue water covered with seafoam. “I can’t imagine having this place and never coming.”
Finn watched her. He sometimes forgot that Flora grew up on the estate but had not entirely lived the estate lifestyle.
The holes in her sneakers were proof. She was dressed a little more casual than he had seen since her return from Paris, but she still looked put together—baggy jeans, white t-shirt, red lipstick.
She pulled out her camera, attaching some things, and then said she’d get started. About thirty minutes later, she was on the deck, caught up looking at the view.
“Do you own it or does your mother?” she asked, as Finn stepped outside.
“This is mine,” he replied.
“Why do you never come here?”
“No one to share it with, I suppose,” he said, leaning on the deck railing, waiting for her response.
“You could pay someone to hang out with you, you know,” she replied evenly. “Three grand does the trick.”
Finn wasn’t sure if she was joking or not. Before he could decide, she turned and handed him the camera, grinning.
“You said you wanted to learn.”
“I don’t know how to use this thing.”
“Exactly. Just press the button, Mr. Harvard.”
Finn rolled his eyes. If it hadn’t been for how much he needed Flora to like him, he would have never entertained her request. He took the camera from her. The photos weren’t half bad.
Another thirty minutes passed and Flora was finished and ready to go.
She wanted to fly back as soon as possible. She worried Finn’s mood might sour if she hung around with him much longer. She would have stayed and enjoyed the day otherwise.
“Alright,” she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “I’m all set.”
Finn didn’t look ready at all—backpack still hung on the wall, papers strewn about the table, phone charging, a half empty bag of chips open.
“Are we… not leaving?” she asked.
“I want a few pictures of the area, if that’s alright with you,” he said, wiping his Cheeto-covered hands on a dish towel.
She wondered at the big, bad Finn Woodhouse eating Cheetos. If she got a photo and sent it to a tabloid, she might get rich, and he might get sponsored by Cheetos.
Win win.
“Uh, sure. It is a nice day. Is there a car or are we walking?”
“You know how to bike, right?” he asked.
“Do you not recall me nearly biking into your car when I was sixteen?” she asked.
Finn suddenly recalled the moment he’d rounded the corner of Evelyn Lane on his way home and nearly hit Flora, who was riding her bike to her job downtown. She hadn’t said a word—just swerved into a ditch, dragged the bike back up, and kept going. She hadn’t even turned around.
At the time, the indifference made sense. Finn knew Flora had been preoccupied with why her mother left, quietly sinking into depression. Being hit by a car might not have fazed her much.
He assumed she wouldn’t have remember that though. She seemed like the type to forget real things, her attention always drifting somewhere more imagined.
“I do remember, yes. I didn’t think you did though.”
Flora smiled and sighed. “I don’t forget much.”
They pulled the blue and yellow one speeds out of the garage and pedaled down the road along Carmel Beach. Flora stopped every now and then to take photos, showing him how they turned out.
“What a lovely school,” she said, pausing to stare at a small elementary school near the Carmel Mission. “Junipero Serra School. It looks abandoned. Such a pity, it’s in a beautiful location. Could you imagine a music school right here? At the base of this mountain? It would be magical.”
Finn bit his tongue. The property was his and he had plans to bulldoze it.
There was no use for an old, abandoned elementary school at Woodhouse Corporation.
He glanced at it now. A total wreck—ivy crept across the old walls, weeds had overtaken everything else, and it was in desperate need of a paint job.
“Oh, look! It’s for sale,” she announced, snatching a yellow paper taped to the sign, completely unaware that the owner was standing right next to her. “It was for sale,” she corrected.
“I own it,” he replied, looking at the jungle of a baseball field.
“You do?” she asked, turning. “What could you want with this? Wait. Let me guess. You’re going to tear it down and put condos on top.”
“Actually,” he said, swallowing his conscience. “I want to reopen it. I wasn’t sure if an elementary school would work. I assumed all the local kids have places to go already… but a music school. What an idea…”
An idea he would have never thought of.
He had no clue how one would go about turning this old heap of stone and wood into a music school—or why someone would want to—but now he was going to have to.
“Seriously?” she asked, studying him for signs of falseness.
“Of course,” he replied, shrugging. “I would have never thought of it. It’s a good idea.”
Ten minutes later, when Flora was using the bathroom at the beach, shrieking about how dirty it was inside, he called James.
“We need to turn that old Junipero Serra property into a music school,” he whispered.
“You want to what?!” James asked, nearly exploding.
“You heard me.”
“You can’t possibly be serious, Finn,” he replied. “It has been long since decided that the building would be scrapped and turned into something more useful, like—I don’t know—condominiums.”
“James, just do it.”
“Finn!”
“James, you’re going to blow a top. Calm down. Just do it and stop asking me questions.”
“Fine. What is this ‘music school’ to be called?” James asked, dryly.
“The… Althea School of Music.”
Finn rubbed his eyes, wondering how much else he’d have to give up saving the merger with Brooks, as Flora emerged from the bathroom.
Now his mother was calling.
Flora disappeared into a dense group of trees with her camera, not saying one word to him, so Finn answered.
“Yes, Mother, what is it?” he asked, rubbing his eyes still.
“When will you be back?”
“Later tonight.”
“How late?”
“I don’t know. Nine? Ten?”
“Do not take this too far, Finn,” she replied.
“I like that Flora, I always have, and Robert Fairchild is a most trusted employee—almost family. I will not stand to see it all ruined because you took things too far. She is a girl, not a game. Not a piece of your puzzle to get this merger accomplished.”
“Mum, I know. We’ve been over this.”
She sighed, relenting slightly. “So, you won’t be back tonight?”
“Not until late. Why?”
“The Carlisles are in town,” she said.
“Bad timing.”
“Yes, that’s what I said. Holly said she would just love to see you and I said the same for you.
You know how we’ve discussed the Carlisles before.
How Holly seems to be a wonderful young lady.
How much I should like to see the two of you getting along.
You’re almost thirty, Finn, and I always get concerned that you will blink and be fifty, wondering where the time went.
Holly is a beautiful young lady, and her parents say she is exactly the kind of woman built for business. ”
“I am well aware of how old I am and what the expectations are,” he replied. “Though I don’t fully understand why it matters.”
“It matters because you need a woman in your life to help you even things out, Finn. And we can’t have some random girl off the street. We need someone we can trust, someone we know, someone who won’t be a liability. Plus, you need a girlfriend, Finn. Believe me. It will make life more fun.”
A splashing noise came from the thicket, then a shriek, and about a minute later Flora walked out of the trees, sloshed with thick mud.
“I fell,” she announced.
Finn snorted. “Mum, I am going to call you back. Tell the Carlisles I’ll be back tomorrow, and we can have a dinner or whatever.”
“Good. I’ll put it on the books then.”
Flora had somehow managed to fall into a gigantic mud puddle. She wasn’t upset though. She was laughing at herself. Finn couldn’t understand how someone could be so calm—he wasn’t a huge fan of dirt.
“We’re going to have to get you some new clothes…” Finn said, eyeing the mud. “Especially if we’re going to eat dinner here.”
“Dinner?” Flora looked worried. “Oh, please don’t make me go to some fancy place where the table napkins are folded into clams.”
“I didn’t say anything about a fancy restaurant,” he replied.
Thirty minutes later, they arrived back at the house.
Flora dug through her day pack. She produced an old t-shirt that said “troublemaker” across the front, which was apt considering the circumstances.
She said she’d bought it at a roadside fruit stand one summer when her and her father drove to Emerald Bay, which explained why the A in the word troublemaker was an apple.
Luckily, there was no fancy restaurant in their future. Finn knew better than to stick her at some upscale eatery with white napkins and a stuffy atmosphere. Instead, he ordered pizza, because she seemed like that type, and they sat at the beach on a towel watching the sun go down.
It was the easiest unofficial date he’d ever been on.