2. Eli
T he hardest part about “the Destin job,” as Eli called the most significant project in his current portfolio, wasn’t that he’d been so hands-on—practically breathing down the GC’s throat, making every decision, and deeply involved in every change order. He’d actually enjoyed that aspect, getting his hands dirty and doing some of the work himself.
Nor did he hate the five-hour drive from his Buckhead office to the Panhandle that he made a few times a month, since Destin offered a great break from the pace of life in Atlanta.
Without a doubt, the most difficult aspect was keeping the whole thing to himself. Eli had spent more time away from Meredith, his daughter, and the firm that he ran than he liked. He’d also built an invisible but very real wall between himself and his sisters, which he hated. Especially when Vivien was going through such a rough time.
Thankfully, that all changed yesterday.
And this Monday morning, as he sipped a cup of coffee at his desk and broke the news to his favorite employee and only daughter, more weight lifted from his heart.
Across from him, Meredith’s green eyes widened and her dark brows lifted in surprise with each revelation. With every changing expression, she looked so much like her mother, with the same chocolate-colored hair and endearing smile that had made Melissa Lawson a favorite face on the local news.
“Dad, that property is yours ? Ours? The family’s?” She slapped her pink-tipped fingers on the desk in disbelief. “Get out of town!”
“I am, with Aunt Vivien, who’s going to design and stage it for sale. I have to finish the punch list, plan the garage apartment build-out, and do something about the outside landscaping, which, as you know?—”
“Is the icing on a house cake,” she recited with a smile.
“You do listen to me, Meredith.”
She grinned, the smile adding light to her eyes and making her look even more like Melissa. “I’m not doing my three-year Architectural Experience Program internship here for fun, you know.”
“You? You don’t do anything for fun,” he teased. “In fact, if you weren’t so close to finishing your AXP hours, I’d insist you come to Florida with Aunt Vivien and me so you could experience a little of the Destin magic.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m less than two months from being a licensed architect, Dad, and whoa, brace yourself for the raise I’m going to demand. Also, fun is for losers.”
He gave a wry laugh at that, but really, his heart lifted. The fact that she wanted to stay at Acacia Architecture when she could have her pick of any firm in Atlanta or the whole country gave him a jolt of joy. But was he surprised?
Not at all. When their mother passed away fourteen years—and eleven months—ago, his two kids responded in utterly different ways. Jonah had been about to turn fifteen, the worst possible time for a boy to lose his mother. Well, there was no good time, Eli supposed.
His son had become distant, moody, and lost. He’d struggled to keep from failing high school. He dropped out of a community college after a year. Despite all of Eli’s encouragement, he was downright disdainful about studying to be an architect like his father, grandfather, and now, sister.
At twenty-nine, Jonah lived in a van, traveled the country, and…
Eli had no idea how he made money, friends, or a life. They spoke so rarely.
Meredith, on the other hand, had attached herself to Eli in the wake of Melissa’s death. She worshipped him, emulated him, and parlayed her extraordinary gifts and unparalleled work ethic into a fast-track architecture career.
He had no doubt she’d take over Acacia Architecture someday.
“So, this house is not only ours,” Meredith said, her brain not on her career path for once but mulling over the news he’d just shared, “you vacationed there as a kid, right? How cool is that?”
“Pretty darn,” he agreed. “We went for seven years—to a completely different, very small house. But we’d spent the summers there, from the time I was fifteen to twenty-one. Grandma Maggie would pile us into the car on Memorial Day and we stayed straight through until Labor Day. My father came down on the weekends.”
She nodded. “I’ve heard about those legendary summers from Aunt Vivien. Wasn’t there another family involved? Grandma Maggie’s sorority sister from UGA?”
“Yes, Jo Ellen and Artie Wylie and their daughters. I always brought Peter McCarthy, since I was the only boy and was allowed to have a friend.”
She smiled at the mention of his lifelong friend. “Wait—doesn’t he live down there now? He’s a cop?”
“A detective actually, and yes, he lives in Pensacola, which isn’t far. I’ve seen him a few times this past year, but didn’t tell him that I was working on the same house because…”
She snorted. “Grandma’s a psycho.”
“Well, she has her reasons for keeping things on the DL,” he said, rising to his mother’s defense. “For one thing, there was some serious legal wrangling to get this done, and it brought up some hard memories.”
Meredith nodded. “My notorious grandfather.”
He gave a tight smile, certainly not defending that parent. Roger Lawson’s crimes still irked Eli in the most unreasonable way.
Thirty years later, Eli struggled with the memory of seeing his father arrested, arraigned, tried, and found guilty. He reeled when he thought of how Dad had used a firm much like this one to steal from clients, corporations, and no small amount of strangers.
Eli had almost decided not to become an architect, he was so angry at Roger. But then he’d met Melissa and she’d nurtured his love for the work, and encouraged him to prove to the world and himself that the profession was noble and respectable.
His father had been neither of those things. So when Eli struck out on his own and opened the doors of this firm, he certainly hadn’t chosen the sullied name of Lawson Architecture to put on his door. Instead, he chose Acacia, the very wood God instructed Moses to use to build the Ark of the Covenant, a material recognized for its strength and integrity.
“Well, Roger did one good thing,” Eli said. “He bought that house for a song—a cash song—and it withstood a hurricane. My mother was cunning enough to protect it from the government and now, thirty years later, it is rightfully and legally ours.” He angled his head and took in the look on her face. “What? It is.”
“I know it is,” she said. “But you keep saying ‘legally’ over and over again, like you don’t quite believe it.”
“I believe it,” he assured her. “I’ve seen the court stamp on the paperwork. I just…” He shook his head. “I never, ever want to do anything like my dad, Meredith. Everything must be legitimate and on the up-and-up.”
“Just count it as a blessing, as I know you do, Dad.”
He nodded. “I’m looking forward to the next few weeks in Destin to finish the project. That leaves you here on your own.”
“With two other architects, three assistants, an office manager, and that cute guy who just opened up a mobile coffee station.”
He drew back. “What cute guy?”
“I’m kidding. Kind of. But are you putting me in charge?” She clasped her hands and flexed, cracking her knuckles. “Oh, the whip is going to be snapped on these slackers.”
He laughed. “Just be my eyes and ears while I’m gone for so long. Everyone knows their job, and of course, I’ll be Zooming in for every important meeting. I just need you to make sure nothing falls through the cracks and there are no random unhappy clients floating around.”
“Will do,” she promised him. “Anything else?”
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, knowing there was something else. “Have you talked to Jonah lately?”
“Speaking of slackers,” she joked, but her smile faded. “No, Dad. My brother doesn’t call me unless he broke up with his latest girlfriend and he needs an ear. When his life is cool, whatever that might mean to him, I don’t hear from him.”
He huffed out a breath, a cocktail of mixed emotions rolling around every time he thought about his son.
“I miss him,” he admitted quietly. “I wish he wasn’t…wherever he is.”
How sad that he didn’t know where his own son was.
“Call him,” she said.
He grunted. “And get dismissed?”
“Hey, you have to keep trying.”
Guilt punched when he realized how right she was.
“I will,” he said. “I think he’s on the West Coast, or at least he was the last time we talked, so I’ll call him after lunch.”
“And wake him up, no doubt.” She made a face that showed her disapproval for her brother’s lifestyle and stood, scooping up her notebook. “Hey, you’re going to need something to sleep on in Destin. The house is empty. Should I order beds and frames to be delivered? I can get kings or queens for every room, and some sheets and towels for you and Aunt Vivien. A few basic life necessities and kitchen tools? I can have everything delivered for Tuesday.”
He gave a grateful smile. “You’re a gem, Mer.”
“I’ll also have the designs on the Southerland project to you before that, and then I wanted to go over the change orders for Markel & Markel. Oh, and I hope you don’t mind, but I’m looking at a new version of Autodesk Revit, since the rep told me we could get a massive discount. Also, it’s Gretchen’s birthday tomorrow, so I ordered a cake.”
He shook his head, marveling at her efficiency and drive. “I’m sure not worried about anything falling through the cracks with you at this office.”
She flipped some dark locks over her shoulder. “And you think I don’t know how to have fun.”
“Work isn’t fun.”
“Is to me.” She playfully stuck out her tongue, looking like a nine-year-old again, and then swept out of his office leaving a smile on his face and the remnants of her perfume.
Oh, Missy , he thought, closing his eyes to picture his late wife. You’d have loved the young woman your little girl became.
Now…the other child?
Eli turned to his monitor, wanting to work but the thought of Jonah weighed heavy on his mind.
He brought the screen to life, tapped a few keys, and found the plans for the Destin house, along with some new photos that had been added by his contractor over the weekend.
Eli had asked for outdoor shots so he could start getting serious about that icing on the cake. Peering at the image, he tried to imagine the landscaping it needed, and the boardwalk they’d have to build in the back to go over the sea oats to the beach.
He’d put in a gorgeous contemporary pool on the deck, but that backyard still needed so much work. The right “icing” could mean all the difference in the asking price.
He clicked on the shot that showed the view from the deck to the beach and gave a soft laugh. Talk about icing. That sure didn’t need work—God had done the heavy lifting, creating a picture-perfect beach of white sand and turquoise water, tipped with frothy waves that stretched for miles in either direction.
There might be a billion condos and short-term rentals, just as many tourists, and traffic for days in Destin. But they were all there because of that pristine, blindingly beautiful beach.
That magical sand where he’d come of age and fallen hard for beautiful, wild, enchanting Tessa Wylie. Where he and Peter and the girls had laughed around a bonfire until they darn near cried. The last summers when he was innocent…before Dad shattered his belief in mankind.
Melissa had restored it, then she was gone in the blink of an eye.
But the Good Lord had stepped in, saving Eli from a life of utter misery. But to be honest, some of his happiest and most exciting days had happened right there on that beach. The place could cast a spell, if he believed in that sort of thing. He didn’t.
Still, he sat up straighter, and not because he could visualize the boardwalk he’d be installing in the next few weeks. Maybe Destin could work more magic. Maybe it could help another Lawson man.
He glanced at the clock and made the decision to call Jonah the minute he could.
Springtime in Buckhead was so lovely, Eli wondered why he frequently chose to eat a sandwich at his desk. Today, he opted to slip out of the office, mostly because he wanted complete privacy when he called his son. He didn’t want to take a chance of Meredith coming in and trying to listen or, worse, talk.
Those two siblings certainly didn’t have the connection he and Vivien shared, despite the fact that he and his sisters had lost a parent at a young age, too.
He crossed a street at the light, glancing at the chic storefronts and quaint restaurants that lined the busy streets of Buckhead Village. He spied a cafe that had open tables outside but was still a bit secluded, so he checked in at the hostess stand and then took a seat under an umbrella.
He ordered an iced tea and a BLT—all forms of procrastination. Why was he so hesitant to call his own son?
Because Jonah would be cold, distant, and disinterested in anything. He was, Eli thought with a wry smile, truly the prodigal son. And Eli would never stop hoping that boy would come home and accept the love this father wanted to shower on him.
If that happened, Meredith would probably act just like the prodigal son’s brother had—resentful of having held down the fort and done the right thing.
Well, it didn’t matter. He loved them both.
When his tea was served, he took out his phone, closed his eyes, and said a quick prayer before tapping the screen.
Meredith had shown him how to attach an image to a contact name, and the picture he had for Jonah always made him smile. With his long hair that darn near grazed broad shoulders, brooding hazel eyes, and movie star bone structure he’d inherited from his photogenic mother, Jonah Lawson was a force even in two dimensions.
He’d been born with a big personality, way too much passion for one human, and a presence that couldn’t be ignored.
Whoa, Eli missed the kid.
He pressed the call button and put the phone to his ear, bracing for the impact of Jonah.
“Hey, bro.”
Or…a sleepy, irreverent greeting that lacked respect and caring.
“Jonah. How are you?”
“Eh. Hungover. ’Sup?”
“Hungover, huh? Were you, uh, partying?” He winced, wondering if that was going to earn him a verbal smackdown.
“Nah. We just had a few pops after work.”
“Work?” The word was out before Eli could stop himself. “You’re…oh. I didn’t know…”
“Yeah, I just picked up a few hours at a local restaurant,” he said, taking casual to a whole new level. “Line cook.”
“Nice, nice. That’s great, son.”
Jonah snorted softly. “Not exactly the king of architecture like you hoped, but it pays for gas in the van.”
Eli’s eyes shuttered at the memory of their last massive fight, maybe five years ago, when Jonah accused him of putting more emphasis on money and work than anything else. It had caused the fracture that sent his son running, and he’d never come back.
“So, what’s going on, Dad?”
In other words, get to the point so Jonah could go back to sleep.
“Well, I have a little family news,” he said. “Turns out we own a beach house in Florida.”
“Huh.”
Yeah, about what he expected. But he powered on, telling the story to Jonah, explaining that he’d been working on the house and that Grandma Maggie owned it.
“Sounds cool, Dad.”
Eli’s sandwich arrived, but he pushed it away, ready to make his pitch. “So, listen, son, I was thinking…”
He waited for Jonah to lose interest, change the subject, or suddenly need to go. When none of that happened, he continued.
“I mean, I didn’t know you had a job in California, but maybe you could mosey on out to Destin and hang with us for a while. It’s a great place and I could use your input on the finishing touches.”
“My input? Just because I hung drywall for Uncle Ryan for a few summers?”
“I mean your opinion. And we could have…some time together.”
For a long moment, Jonah didn’t say a word. Long enough for Eli to hope…then long enough for him to wonder if his son had hung up.
“You there?” he finally asked with an uncomfortable laugh.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m, uh, kind of locked in right now, Dad. San Diego’s cool and I like this gig, so…maybe another time?”
Disappointment slammed his gut. “Oh, yeah, sure. Door’s always open. I mean, we’ll be selling this place eventually, but summer’s coming and if you wanted to hang…”
Oh, stop begging, Eli. You’re his father. And Jonah was darn lucky to have one at twenty-nine. Eli lost his father when he was barely twenty-two.
“Well, I gotta go, man,” Jonah said. “Early shift. But shoot me a pin of the address in case anything comes up.”
“Sure, sure. Good to talk to you, son.”
“See ya, Dad.”
The phone went dead, and Eli stared at his sandwich, not seeing anything but that handsome face darkened with a shadow of sadness that had appeared when that boy lost his mother. A shadow that never went away.
He had a prodigal son and missed him so profoundly, he could taste it. But some things, he knew, were not in his hands.
He glanced toward the sky and inhaled a breath. How much longer?