14. Chapter 14
Chapter 14
James
“E xactly what is it you’re trying to pull here?” I walked into GiGi’s cabin, the door slamming behind me as I yanked off my wet sneakers. She was already busy by the stove working on a fresh batch of coffee, humming as though she hadn’t a care in the world.
But I knew better—she was up to something. And whatever it was, I wasn’t having it.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Tater. But can you pass me a fresh filter?”
I stood there, arms crossed, until my grandmother finally looked over.
“What?”
“Don’t play innocent with me. Why didn’t you tell me that your ‘mystery client’ was our former neighbor?”
“Didn’t see a need to bring up the past,” GiGi said, shrugging. “Besides, I doubted you’d remember who she was, anyway. You’re a good four or so years older than she is. Pretty sure you were already off taking classes at that technical school while she was doing most of her running around here with those Dearie Girls.”
Suddenly, hearing that name made the pieces start to click into place. “Wait, wasn’t Brooke Christenson a part of that whole thing?”
“Was, and still is. Half those girls still live up here, y’know.”
I shook my head and couldn’t help but marvel at the irony of running into Brooke for the first time in years just weeks ago, all the way down in Minneapolis—and now having her best friend living here, right under my nose.
And also quite possibly your first client—if you don’t fuck it up.
“Well, anyway, can you lay off a bit? I appreciate the help in promoting my business, but I don’t want you nosing around in this. If I’m to take on this project, it’ll be because it’s a good fit for me and because I earned it outright. Not because you’re trying to manipulate one or both of us with whatever convoluted plan you’re concocting in that head of yours.”
GiGi’s expression now shifted from playful to stern. “James, I love ya, boy… but you can really be a self-righteous grump with a chip on your shoulder sometimes. All I’m trying to do here is help . Whether or not Elizabeth Blake chooses to hire you is up to her.” She turned back to the stove, making a racket with the coffeemaker. “And now I’m thinking I should maybe advise her not to.”
“No, no… just stay out of it. I’ve got this. And while you’re at it, can you also try to avoid embarrassing our neighbor?” That moment—watching the flush of color spread across Elizabeth’s face as GiGi blatantly pointed out the transparency of her wet t-shirt—wasn’t one I’d forget for some time.
But now, hearing my grandmother muttering under her breath, I turned my attention back to our conversation, leaning against the counter with a sigh. “Look, I’m sorry. I was just… caught off guard, is all.”
GiGi started the coffee and turned back towards me. This time, her gaze had softened. “I know, honey. I’m just so proud of you for finally doing this. Your mama would be, too. I know how hard it was for you to give in and accept that money.”
I felt my insides clench again at the thought of it, but I managed a tight smile. “Thanks. You might be a pain in my ass sometimes, but I do love you.”
“Love you too, Tater-tot. Now go and get changed. You smell like dead fish.”
Shaking my head with a laugh as I wandered back towards my old room for fresh clothes, I couldn’t help but wonder again if I’d made the right choice by dipping into that inheritance.
All I could do now was hope that any chaos it managed to kick up in my life would be worth it.
Twenty minutes later, I wandered over to the Blake cabin, two coffee thermoses in hand, along with a Tupperware filled with fresh rhubarb scones—a GiGi specialty. Knocking on the front door, I stood waiting until she approached a moment later, towel-drying her hair. I couldn’t help feeling a momentary pang of disappointment that she’d heeded GiGi’s advice about her shirt.
“Come on in, I was just finishing up.” She held the door open, and I sidled in past her. Inside were stacks of boxes, piled amongst an assortment of old furniture. “Why don’t we sit in here?” she said, motioning to the small table in the kitchen area. “Sorry it’s such a mess… we were just getting everything moved in yesterday.”
I gave a little shrug as I pulled out the chair across from her. “No problem, Elizabeth. Believe me when I tell you, I’ve seen much worse.”
“Oh, you can just call me Lizzie. Everyone does, for the most part.” She smiled, seeming hesitant. “Listen, I’m sorry about earlier. I mean, you did scare me half to death, and yeah, I was kind of upset after you ruined my grandmother’s book…”
“... wait, wait, I ruined her book? I mean, I’m sorry for startling you, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t me tossing her book into the lake after you.”
Lizzie held up a hand, and I could tell she was doing her best not to get herself riled again—her pert, freckled nose twitching as her lips pulled together in a barely contained scowl. For some reason, I found it all kind of… adorable . “Nope, not again…” she muttered under her breath, clear as day. Then she exhaled, wrestling out a smile. “Agree to start over?”
“Sure, why not?”
“Good.” She finally took a bite of the scone I’d offered her, and I watched as her body relaxed, bright green eyes rolling back in her head. “ Oh my God, this scone is amazing. Remind me to stay on your grandmother’s good side. Forever.”
I smiled wryly. “I have to remind myself of that every day.”
Laughter bubbled up from her throat, warm and melodic—and it made me glad to have broken the tension. After another sip of coffee, she continued. “Anyway, do you mind telling me about some of the projects you’ve worked on?”
As we sat there together with our breakfast, I flipped through the portfolio I’d brought along with me—filled with blueprints and snapshots of all my best work through the years. Mel had been generous in allowing me to keep a record for my own use—it was clear now he’d always expected me to branch out on my own one day and wanted to give me a leg up. I was grateful for it.
Lizzie nodded along as I explained the various projects I’d designed or led, studying the photos and pointing out various aspects she liked. I was impressed by how she seemed to take an interest in everything, asking thoughtful questions about my design process, along with my favorite types of materials. I had no idea what she did for a living, especially now that she’d landed herself all the way up here in Dearing Creek—but it seemed obvious to me that she was creative as well.
And even though I’d had my doubts earlier, it felt fucking validating to see someone—outside those who’d known me forever—actually appreciating the skills I’d worked hard to hone over the years. Like maybe I hadn’t been crazy to take the leap and start running with this on my own.
As I watched her flip through the last few pages in my portfolio, I found myself studying her face as my mind wandered, now able to recall a few fuzzy mental snapshots of her from many years ago—a bespectacled girl with a wild mane of coppery hair, hanging out on the porch—or floating around the dock with a handful of other girls. I would’ve been in high school or college by then, several years older—like GiGi said, we’d never had reason to interact much. She’d always seemed friendly, though—it made me wonder about the rest of her family. Not that I had much to speak of there, either.
This fully-grown version of Lizzie, however, was messing with my head. Not just in our last two disastrous interactions— though who’s keeping count? No, it was more in what I noticed as we sat here together, finally relaxed and not snarking at one another. Teenage Lizzie may have been cute, but the woman before me now was lovely, the juxtaposition of her vivid hair and eyes against her pale skin making it a challenge for me to concentrate and do my job.
Especially if she kept smiling at me like that.
It had been a long time since a woman had brought about thoughts like this in me—maybe I’d been letting myself fly solo for too long. I was bound to get rusty.
After a while, she leaned back in her chair. “Well, I have to admit… I was kind of hoping I’d hate everything you had to show me.” She grinned, giving me a sidelong glance. “But you’re really talented, James. I’m super impressed with your work. And I can tell you love what you do.”
“Thanks… I think,” I said, smirking.
She blushed. “I promise, all of that was meant to be a compliment.”
“Of course.” I took a sip of my coffee, watching as a flock of Canadian geese passing over the lake outside the window also caught her eye. In this light, her eyes almost seemed to have a trace of gold in them. I liked it. “So, Lizzie… What is it that you do for a living? You seem like the creative type.”
She returned her attention to me. “Me? Well, I spent the last few years working as a copywriter for an accounting firm in Minneapolis.”
“Sounds… fun.”
She made a face. “Let me assure you, it one-hundred percent wasn’t.”
I chuckled, feeling myself begin to relax more, too. “So why’d you leave? Just needed a change?”
“Honestly, I’d been wanting to move on for ages, but they kind of made the decision for me—I was just laid off a few weeks ago, while meeting with our family lawyer about my mom and grandmother’s estates.”
I let out a low whistle. “Ouch… rough day.”
“Definitely not awesome,” she said, raising her coffee to her lips. “Anyway… it was a blessing in disguise, I guess. It allowed me to move up here after I inherited my grandparents’ cabin… and now, I can finally focus on my book.”
“Ah, so you’re an author, too.” My mind flashed back to earlier, replaying the panicked moment when she dropped her book in the water. Now her reaction was starting to make more sense—and I felt a brief pang of guilt for the callous way I’d behaved. Books were clearly important to her, beyond the sentimental. “What kind of book are you writing?”
“As of now, a novel about two sisters, set in the Depression-era Midwest. But things haven’t been clicking with this one for a while, so…” she shrugged, “that remains to be seen.”
“Well, I hope you can work it all out. Feeling stuck is a hard place to be.” Then I hesitated, trying to choose my words carefully. “Sorry to hear about your family, too. I know what it’s like to lose the people you love.”
As her eyes welled up, I felt immediate regret for bringing up such a sensitive subject—especially with someone I hardly knew. But then she gave a small nod. “Thanks… I appreciate that.” Pausing, she chewed on her lower lip—appearing to wrestle with something in her mind.
Watching her do that, however, seemed to be making me wrestle with something else entirely. Move things along, Tate.
Especially since now she seemed to be studying me, too. “Look, I want you to know… most of why I was hesitant to hire you is because your grandmother lives right next door.”
I nodded. “Sure, makes sense.”
Lizzie looked at me straight on now, her emerald eyes now appearing almost faceted as the morning light filtered in through the kitchen window. “And it’s been a rough year. I honestly can’t deal with any more complications in my life right now.”
“I think I understand that better than most,” I said grimly. I began to gather my things—better to leave graciously, not force her to decline my services outright. She was right—living next door to GiGi for the foreseeable future might make things messier than they needed to be. What if the job didn’t go well?
But I didn’t allow myself to linger too long over the other questions in my mind—like, what was it about this woman that pulled at me?
Closing my portfolio, I stood up from my chair. “Well, thanks for your time, Lizzie. I truly do wish you all the best. Let me know if I can recommend a contractor who’d be a better fit. Happy to help.”
“Wait… what? Why are you leaving?”
“Uhhh… because, like you said, this seems complicated?”
She groaned, burying her face in her hands for a moment. Then she raised her head again as her cheeks flushed, something that seemed to happen often. “ Ugh, I’m sorry. I really do mean well… but whenever I’m anxious, I’ll usually end up saying the wrong thing at least fifty-percent of the time. Please, let me try this again.” She cleared her throat. “What I was actually trying to do was… offer you the job.”
I raised an eyebrow, amused. “You sure about that? Because that’s not what I heard.”
“What can I say. I’m better at writing.” Shrugging sheepishly, she held out a hand. “So, what do you say? Can we give it a go?”
I hesitated again as I stared at her—a confusing mix of ‘I really want to get to know her’ thoughts and ‘what if I fuck it all up?’ scenarios racing through my head. Would I really be able to do this with her?
But maybe it was time to stop worrying and start doing. Fact was, I needed the work if I was going to start a business. And Jesse had just quit his job with Mel to join me. He— and his pregnant wife—were relying on me to bring in clients. Walking away from a paying gig would be a pretty stupid move. Especially when it was someone I didn’t want to walk away from.
What else did I have to lose at this point?
“Alright. I’m in,” I said, reaching out to shake her offered hand—immediately jarred by the crackle of electricity I felt run through me as my rough palm met her much softer one. I saw her eyes widen— she had to have felt it too, right?
Shaking off the reaction as static electricity from the dry and dusty interior of the cabin, I willed myself to relax as I sat down again with a smile. “Now, how about we start with going over all the work you are hoping to have done…”
We talked for another hour, touring the cabin both inside and out while making a wishlist of the projects she’d hoped to tackle, as well as a few recommendations of my own. I was happy to see the love she had for the old bones and character of the structure, and how she was determined to keep as much of it original as possible. And the updates we’d landed on were manageable for Jesse and me to handle on our own, with the exception of a few larger projects: Review and make any necessary updates to all electrical and plumbing; build on a bathroom addition to the master bedroom; refinish the hardwood floors throughout the cabin; create a custom built-in bookshelf wall in the living room; replace all the light fixtures; replace the tile and fixtures in the bathroom; repair the exterior chimney; repaint both the interior and exterior walls; replace the windows; install an air conditioning unit and inspect all duct work; re-shingle the roof, adding gutters and downspouts; rebuild the small front porch; and lastly, repaint both the exterior of the cabin and all the interior rooms.
It was easily a few months’ worth of work between the two of us (along with a couple of subcontractors, as needed), enough to keep busy for most of the summer. And Lizzie’s budget seemed flexible enough, which I found interesting since she’d mentioned a job loss. But as long as she paid her invoices on time, how she handled her money was none of my business. Just like I didn’t need anyone questioning mine.
It was easy talking with her, though, now that we’d moved past our initial head-butting to share in a common goal. And our shift from would-be adversaries to long-term collaborators was going way better than I’d hoped. She was bright, friendly—open to ideas and eager to share hers.
Considering how we’d started off twice, I had to admit—it was a pleasant surprise. More than pleasant.
In the end, we shook hands, with me promising to drop off the estimate of work and contract before the end of the week and a plan to start work on Friday.
“I’m really looking forward to working together, James,” Lizzie said, smiling as she leaned casually against the frame of her front door.
Pausing on the wooden porch, I turned around to face her. “Same here. And I promise, we’ll make this cabin feel like a real home by the time we’re done.” As if on cue, the board I was standing on released a loud creaking sound—grimacing, I gave it another bounce, detecting a definite crack this time. “Though maybe we better move your porch towards the top of the list, before it kills someone.”
She laughed, brushing back her hair as the light breeze passing through swept it across her face. “You’re the expert, sir.” With a wave, she walked back inside, closing the door behind her.
Shaking my head, I continued on towards my truck, finding it hard to wipe the smile off my face. I thought about stopping in to talk with GiGi before heading home—but I knew she’d likely launch into another one of her interrogations. Right now, all I wanted was some time on my own to collect my thoughts.
Because I had to admit—I was really excited about this project. It could be the start of something great, and I felt driven more than ever to build a business I could be proud of—something I created.
The scarier truth? I hadn’t even begun the work here yet, and I was already sensing my client was going to be an unintentional distraction.
I mean, I knew I’d been attracted to her from that first moment we’d butted heads in the cities. It was hard not to be. Back then, though, I’d also assumed her to be uptight or a handful. And, of course, someone I’d never cross paths with again once Minneapolis was in my rearview mirror.
But now that I’d be spending every weekday near her for the majority of the summer, the problem was no longer about her being difficult. It was more the fact that she wasn’t . Instead, she seemed pretty great, like someone I’d enjoy hanging out with. I had no idea if I could do that without getting myself caught up in something I shouldn’t.
When was the last time I’d spent this much time pondering a woman? It was honestly hard to remember. Beyond a handful of dates here and there, I hadn’t made much time for women my own age the last couple of years. And other than missing the physical side of things, I didn’t see much of a need. Especially when opening myself up to more brought the risk of—as Lizzie put it— complications.
GiGi took enough of my time and attention anyway, and rightfully so.
Besides, regardless of how I’d felt during our few interactions so far, I was smart enough to know—crossing any kind of line with Lizzie would be a bad idea, probably for both of us. Not only that, wouldn’t it also make me a hypocrite, considering what I’d just gone through with Denise Kinney?
All I needed to worry about was keeping myself focused on what mattered most—a job well done and a happy client. Which meant maintaining friendly, yet professional, boundaries. Nothing more.
Even if I couldn’t help but wonder what more might be like with a woman like Lizzie Blake.