Chapter 8
JILLIAN
Jillian climbed up the attic stairs with Tripp’s heavy footsteps echoing behind her.
They had already gone over the whole first and second floors, with Jillian worrying more and more along the way that what she had in her savings wouldn’t be enough to even fix up the house, let alone to finish the attic.
It turned out that the hall bath would have to be fully gutted and redone, and there were signs of leaks around the windows in the main bedroom, along with some plumbing concerns in that bath as well, and Tripp had mentioned some of the wiring not being safe.
All that was in addition to repairing and repainting walls and replacing carpets in the other rooms.
Over the course of the last half hour, Jillian had gone from excited to despairing, and they hadn’t even reached the attic yet.
But for whatever reason, Tripp Lawrence didn’t seem the least bit worried.
And the man really did know his stuff. She loved hearing his deep voice calmly suggest solutions and the scratch of his pencil on the pages of the little notebook he carried.
Tripp’s easy confidence was grounding, and she felt more drawn to him than ever.
Which wasn’t a good thing. She needed to keep ahold of herself.
“Oh, wow,” she said, completely caught off guard as they emerged from the staircase into the attic.
The ceiling height at the center of the attic was plenty high, and the space was enormous. She could see the fresh wood sheathing of the new roof, and there were three large windows letting in light, while the fourth wall had an enormous fan.
“That’s a whole house fan,” Tripp pointed out. “When the attic is finished, you’ll want to remove it, but it’s great that you’ve already got two windows up here.”
“I actually think we might be able to get two bedrooms up here,” she said, looking around. “You were right. It’s cozy, but it really is spacious.”
“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Tripp said, striding to the far end of the big open space. “I would do your room right here, with a sitting room beside it, here.”
He gestured to the two imaginary rooms, showing her where a bed could be tucked into the eaves, and a television against the low wall of the sitting room, if they wanted one.
“Then Mari and Posey’s room could be here,” he said, walking along the right-hand wall. “With the bathroom between them, just above the second-floor hall bath. And on the other side, I think there’s room for a nice hallway and plenty of storage in the eaves. We could even do built-in cupboards.”
“That’s incredible,” she said. “You really think there’s space for all that?”
“Definitely,” he told her with that easy confidence she’d been admiring the whole time.
As he walked her through it all, his hands dancing in the air, technical terms and design ideas practically flying out of him with real passion, she found herself smiling.
When he talked, she could see it. She could see all of it. And it was perfect.
Her earlier worries faded as excitement began to build in her chest.
“What about this nook?” she asked, heading toward a spot in the eaves they hadn’t looked at yet. “Do you think we could get a reading chair in—?”
“—Jillian, wait,” Tripp yelled, moving lightning-fast across the attic.
The next thing she knew, his big arms were wrapped around her, and he was lifting her into the air.
Tripp’s embrace was so warm, and his arms were corded with thick muscle. It was no wonder that he’d been able to lift her like she was nothing.
But when the heat of his breath tickled her neck as he exhaled in relief, and the spicy scent of his aftershave surrounded her, Jillian stopped noticing everything else.
“Sorry,” he half-growled into her hair. “I didn’t mean to scare you. There’s nothing under that insulation but the plaster ceiling. You would have gone right through it.”
“Oh,” she said, her addled mind taking a moment to catch up. “Um, thank you.”
He lowered her back to her feet, but his hands lingered on her arms for a moment.
“Last thing you want is another ceiling to repair,” he joked lightly.
But his blue eyes were so intense as he leaned toward her just the tiniest bit, almost like he wanted to kiss her.
A shiver of electricity shot through her, and it was all she could do not to wrap herself in his arms all over again. For a moment, her knees felt a little wobbly, and she leaned into him for support, her face turning up to his like a flower seeking the sun.
“Mama, Mama, Mama,” Posey’s little voice rose from the stairwell, accompanied by light footsteps. “Did you tell him our room is going to be pink?”
Tripp’s hands jerked from her arms like she was on fire, and Jillian took a quick step back, steadying herself with a hand on one of the rafters.
Thank goodness for Posey, she thought to herself, running a quick hand through her hair as her daughter scrambled up the last few steps.
But I wouldn’t really have let him kiss me. Would I?
“Whoa,” Posey said, as she took in the attic. “It’s big up here.”
“Isn’t it?” Jillian asked her, relieved when her voice came out sounding pretty normal. “Tripp was just telling me that he thinks we can fit everything we want up here.”
“It’s kind of dark,” Posey said uncertainly.
“Oh, that’s easy to fix,” Tripp told her. “We’ll put in some ceiling lights and some spots, and you’ll be able to light the whole place up like a Christmas tree.”
Posey laughed and headed past her mother to Tripp, like a little moon being drawn into the Earth’s orbit.
“Can you make it pink?” Posey asked him, frowning.
“The light?” he asked.
“No, no, my room,” she said. “And Mari’s. We want our room to be pink.”
Tripp looked to Jillian for approval, and she nodded to him.
“I think we could make that happen,” he told Posey.
“Okay,” she said brightly. “Then this is good.”
Jillian felt a little more of the tension she’d been holding release.
“Are we ready to go downstairs and make a plan of action?” Tripp asked Jillian.
She nodded without meeting his eyes. The last thing she needed was for her knees to go weak again.
An hour later, Jillian was heading into town for paint samples and trying to steady her thoughts.
Sitting around the table with her grandparents, the girls, and Tripp to talk about their plans for the house had been really nice. They all just got along so easily. The ideas and the conversation flowed easily.
By the end, they decided that Tripp would be coming by Monday to get started, which meant that they would all be spending plenty of time together for heaven knew how long.
And for some reason, the idea of having him around so much made her feel safe in a way she couldn’t really explain. It also made her think of their little moment in the attic.
But she needed to keep her wits about her. That was a dangerous line of thinking.
Her phone rang and she glanced over to see that it was her sister.
She sighed. Amberlee was exactly the person she wanted to talk to, but she wasn’t sure she could do that without confessing her conflicting feelings.
She thought about ignoring the call, but that wouldn’t stop Amberlee from trying again a hundred times. So she tapped the button on her steering wheel to pick up.
“Hi, Amberlee,” she said.
“Jilly-willy-bo-billy,” Amberlee cried. “How are you? How are my favorite nieces?”
Mari and Posey were Amberlee’s only nieces, but a simple fact like that would never stop her sister’s superlatives. It was the kind of thing that drove Jillian bananas when they were kids, but made her miss her sister powerfully now.
“We’re all just fine,” Jillian told her. “How are you?”
“Just fine?” Amberlee echoed. “Come on. You know I want to hear the details. How are Gram and Grampy? How’s the addition going?”
“There’s not going to be one,” Jillian told her. “The house is in pretty bad shape. We’re going to try and fix it up and then maybe finish the attic instead.”
“No,” Amberlee breathed. “They love that house. They take great care of it. They always have.”
“They’re older now,” Jillian said. “And they had to replace the roof. It seems like maybe that wiped them out and now they’re trying to play catch-up.”
“It’s terrible that no one has been there,” Amberlee said, her voice uncharacteristically quiet.
“Well, I’m here now,” Jillian said firmly. “And everything’s going to be just fine.”
“If you spend the money from your place on their place, where are you going to live?” Amberlee asked.
“Like I said, we’re going to finish the attic into a space for the girls and me,” Jillian said. “It won’t be too bad. A neighbor is helping out with a lot of the labor.”
“What neighbor?” Amberlee asked, her voice suddenly suspicious.
“One of the Lawrence boys,” Jillian said lightly, hoping Amberlee would ask no follow-up questions.
“Which Lawrence boy?” Amberlee demanded.
“Uh, Tripp,” Jillian admitted.
There was a moment of silence.
“You guys were friends, right?” Amberlee said after a moment. “But something happened?”
“Something like that, yeah,” Jillian said.
“You never really told me the whole story there,” Amberlee pointed out.
“I was embarrassed,” Jillian said. “Anyway, it was a long time ago.”
“This is why you have no friends,” Amberlee said, and Jillian could picture her shaking her head in disapproval. “You shut everyone out.”
“I have friends,” Jillian retorted, thinking of the nurses from work back in the city. Sure, they hadn’t called since she came down here, but they were always busy.
“Not real ones,” Amberlee said. “Real friends let each other in, even when it’s embarrassing.”
“You were my baby sister,” Jillian said, as she reached the place on Fox Hollow Road where the houses weren’t as spread out.
“I’m not a baby anymore,” Amberlee pointed out.
“You really want to know?” Jillian asked, trying to buy herself a moment.
“Of course I want to know,” Amberlee said.
“Fine,” Jillian said, sighing. “He asked me to the Winter Formal.”
“He asked you to the Winter Formal?” Amberlee asked.
“Yes,” Jillian said.