by Holley Trent
Valerie closed out the document on her computer and pulled the Paulsen file closer. She leafed through the pages reading the scant notes Carine had taken during the consultation. There were notes about what premier tier of finishes the Paulsens wanted, but nothing about how they lived or what their lifestyle was like. In semi-custom homes, that usually didn’t matter so much. Clients picked what was available and just lived with it.
It mattered to Valerie, though.
“Carine, ask her if she works from home.”
Carine did. “She says yeah. From her kitchen table on weekends and after the kids go to bed on weeknights, usually. Why?”
So that’s how she does it. “Um…well, there’s no dedicated office in that space.”
“Yeah, needing rooms for that many kids, she’s used to not having one.” Carine quickly amended into the phone, “No offense, Mrs. Paulsen.”
“Do they plan on using the formal dining room? The part that runs into the living room space off the foyer.”
Carine asked. “She says nope. They don’t entertain. You want to talk to her?” She mouthed, “So I can go get dressed for tonight.”
Valerie held out her hand.
Carine gave her the phone and the charger, which Valerie dutifully plugged in.
“Hi, Mrs. Paulsen. This is Val. I was thinking that if you’re just going to use that space as a catch-all for mix-matched furniture—”
“That’s exactly what we were going to do with it,” Mrs. Paulsen interjected. “It’s what we do with the house we’re in now.”
“Well, it makes sense, then, to partition off some of that space. We could do that without messing with the ceiling vaulting at all. I’d run a wall starting at where the dining room and kitchen door is, so you’d get a wide, but somewhat shallow, office space where that wide window is.”
“And I’d still have all that living area space.”
“Right. And because you’re right next to the kitchen, you’ll still hear everything going on in the family room and if you lean back just so, you can see who’s ringing the doorbell.”
“What would I do with the catch-all space, though? I don’t want such an open, useless room. It’s so close to the front door and everyone will see the mess. I don’t want a formal living area, either. I try to make the kids confine their mess to the family room.”
“Does anyone actually sit in there? The living room, I mean.”
“Sure. Of my four kids, I have one daughter—” Valerie jotted that down. “—and she’s used to having her own room, but she’s wired weirdly. She can’t live in her room and also sleep in it.”
“Ah. My grandmother is like that.” She’d never been able to read or watch television in bed.
“So you get it. Well, my daughter tends to find some quiet space in the house to make herself a little burrow.”
“How old is she?” Valerie asked with her pen poised over the open folder.
“Twelve.”
“So, she uses it as, what, like a library? Just a room to be in that doesn’t have noise?”
“Exactly! My husband tends to use it for the same, though. He’ll flop onto that one sofa in there on Saturday afternoons after cutting the grass and falls asleep until the boys find him and want to go somewhere.”
“It should be easy enough to build in bookcases and some nooks. Put a large, high table in the center of the room for projects, a couple of armchairs by that window bump-out for reading, and you can push a sofa against the side of the staircase.”
“And all that stuff would look okay if seen from the front door.”
“And you’d be near…your daughter as you work,” Valerie said, voice going weak.
Jealousy. That’s what that feeling was that Valerie was swallowing down. It was sour and vile, and she was sick of it.
“I’d love that. She’s always been so clingy and I…” There was a catch in Mrs. Paulsen’s voice. “Well, I won’t bore you to death.”
“It’s all right. I wanted to know. It helps me.”
In so many ways.
“So, how much is this customization going to cost us?” Mrs. Paulsen asked.
“Probably not as much as you’d think. We’re not adding space, simply revising what’s already there. And we’re adding more support to the structure, not less, by adding those walls—not counting the three-quarter bath if you want to go that route.”
“I dunno. I kinda like the idea of that mop closet. I don’t want another shower to clean.”
Valerie laughed. “It’s just a matter of getting my bosses to sign off on it. There really isn’t a system in place within Lipton for this sort of thing, so I’ve got to figure out what hoops to jump through to make it happens.”
“Oh! Well, if this is going to be a crapshoot—”
“No, I’m going to make it happen. Houses should be livable by the families who pay to have them built. There is no good reason you can’t have customizations on a house you’re building from the foundation up…” Valerie turned the page and whistled low. “And especially on a lot like that.”
A pricey lot like that. River view with dock access.
“Huh. You don’t have a back deck,” Valerie mused.
“I was told it didn’t come with that model.”
For fuck’s sake.
“Lady, you can have a deck.” Valerie made a note.
“Really?”
“Yep.” Valerie was probably going to get fired for overstepping her bounds, but she didn’t care. She was going to make that house make sense, even if she had to drive to D.C. and whack her boss on the nose with one of those dusty old blueprint tubes he kept in his office.
“Maybe we can…meet and talk about it?” Valerie said. “So you and your husband get everything you need.” And so I can pick your brain some more.
There had to be some secret sauce—some magic in play to make everything Mrs. Paulsen had possible. Valerie wanted that magic, too. She wanted that loud house, and the job, and…the husband to fall asleep by the front door.
Does Tim cut his own grass?
She notched her teeth into her lower lip, pondering the image. A napping Tim made a very warm image indeed.
“This could be the last house we have to buy,” Mrs. Paulsen said wistfully.
“Exactly.”
“Tomorrow, maybe? My husband’s taking the boys on a scouting trip. I know it’s a Saturday, but—”
“Let’s do it. Meet me here in the office and we can figure out where to go from here?”
“See you then!”
There had been a note of genuine excitement in Mrs. Paulsen’s voice when she’d disconnected, and it put a smile on Valerie’s face. Solving problems was the most rewarding part of being an architect, but she rarely got to do it on such a personal level. She was going to push for those changes and throw her weight around if she had to. She was a seasoned, loyal employee of the company, and had a track record of getting things done.
They needed to let her, or she’d make sure they knew she wouldn’t be getting anything done for them for much longer.
Valerie was at the deli sipping her third cup of coffee and making her fifth page of notes about the Paulsen home customization when a shadow darkened her notepad and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
Nikki Paulsen pushed up one dark eyebrow and looked over Valerie’s head at the newcomer.
Valerie closed her eyes, sighed, and set down her pen. She knew who it was. She knew his saltwater and aftershave scent, and maybe she even knew his energy, too. No one electrified her that way.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Tim said. “I saw this lady and wanted to say hello.”
“Hello, Tim,” she said without opening her eyes.
“How are you?”
“Fine.” Lonely. Confused.
“Glad to hear it. My folks are in town and I’m going to take them out on the boat.”
“Oh,” she said weakly. “Have a good time.” She opened her eyes and tipped her head back to l
ook at him.
Big mistake.
It was easier to shove him to the back of her thoughts when she didn’t have to look at him. He always looked at her with such intensity in his stare. She couldn’t help but be completely enthralled, because she knew what that intensity meant. He saw her as something he wanted and that he would take such good care of, but she wouldn’t let him have her.
She wasn’t sure if she could yet.
“The weather looks good for the trip,” he said quietly and adjusted the brim of his hat. He looked away from her and extended a hand to Nikki. “I’m Tim Dowd.”
“Oh. I’ve heard of you.” Nikki put her hand in his and shook it. “I’m Nikki Paulsen. My husband’s been wanting to get a boat for years. I told him he had to wait until we got this mess with the house is straightened out. I said let’s sell the old house, take care of getting the new one built, and then he can think about taking out a boat loan.”
Tim’s eyes lit up. “Wait. Paulsen? Is your husband Dean Paulsen?”
“You know Dean?”
“Who the hell doesn’t? We graduated from high school together. He’s the guy who drew up all of my business’s incorporation paperwork.”
“Back in the day before he had a paralegal and legal assistant, I take it.”
“Yep.”
“I married him probably a little bit after he did that work for you. We met at a conference. I’m a contracts attorney.” She cringed. “Part-time, nowadays.”
“Hectic.”
“You have no idea. Suits me, though. I’m actually more productive with fewer hours of work, and I set my own billing rates and only take on the clients I want to be bothered with.”
“That’s fantastic.”
Valerie had thought so, too. She’d been fascinated by how Nikki was able to balance it all, and what had made it possible was some outside-of-the-box thinking. Valerie had simply been curious at first, but now she wondered if she could have what Nikki did—everything.
And with Tim.
“Well, I won’t hold you up,” Tim said. “I don’t want to leave my folks roasting in the truck. I just ran in to pick up an order.”
“I’ll tell Dean I saw you.” Nikki sighed. “And…he’ll probably tell me how much he really wants that boat.”
“If he calls me, I’ll do my best to talk him out of it, even if that move isn’t so great for my business’s bottom line.” Tim winked and backed away from the table. “See you later.”
“Bye, Tim,” Nikki said.
Valerie watched him grab his bags from the deli counter and shoulder the door open.
The door closed behind him, and she kept staring until someone else walked in and made the bell over the door rattle.
“I’ll be right back, okay?” she said to Nikki.
“No hurry. I don’t have to pick my daughter up from dance until six.”
Valerie had never had a chance to do activities outside of school ones. Her grandmother either hadn’t had the money, or Valerie didn’t have a way to get there. Her mother had wanted all those enriching extracurriculars for Valerie and Leah, but even back then, they couldn’t have everything. Maybe that was part of the reason Valerie so staunchly believed she couldn’t have it now, either.
She stepped into the parking lot and put her hand up to shield her eyes from the sun’s harsh light, and found Tim climbing up into the driver’s side of his truck at the far end.
She jogged over with his name caught in her throat but didn’t make it before he closed the door.
She almost stopped and turned around, but she was so close anyway, so she kept going.
She knocked on the window just as he started the engine.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi. Um…” She tucked a couple of errant coils of hair behind her ears and let her gaze track to the lady in the passenger’s seat and the older man in the back.
His parents.
There was curiosity in their polite smiles—no hostility at all—and yet a debilitating stage fright settled over her. She didn’t know what she’d even run out there to say to him, only that she couldn’t let him go without getting his attention—without making sure he was thinking about her still because damned if she were going to be the only one of them who was infatuated.
But there in front of him, she didn’t have any words to give him.
“Uh, never mind,” she stammered. “I thought I…but no.”
“You all right?” he asked. Concern furrowed his brow and mitigated the coolness of his stare.
“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m gonna…get back to work. Never mind.”
“You sure?”
No.
She smiled and nodded. “Enjoy your trip.”
“I will.”
She waved and walked away before any other ridiculous prattle could slip through her lips.
She didn’t turn back to look as he shifted gears and backed out because the sight would depress her.
Too ironic.
She was used to being the one going away, and she was incredibly uncomfortable being on the other end of the scenario for a change.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“That’s my car!” Kevin shouted through the window of Tim’s truck as the Camaro whipped around them and kicked up dust on the way out of Shora.
“So it is.” Tim released the parking brake and put the truck into gear. He needed to get Kevin to his probation officer by four-thirty and had already lost half a day of work to ridiculousness. One of his shit-for-brains supervisors thought that day would be a fantastic time to demand a raise and threatened to walk out right when they needed to get two boats off the line.
Tim had fired him. No skin off his teeth, really, because the guy had been on his second warning, anyway, but it meant Tim would have to spend a bit more time on the floor until he figured out who got promoted. He liked being able to get out there and reinforce what the Dowd brand was to the builders who may have forgotten why they’d signed on to work there, but Tim also needed to keep new business coming in and he couldn’t do that if he wasn’t at his desk or out making sales calls. There was only so much that glossy print advertising could do for him.
Kevin gave his armrest a thump with his fist. “I still can’t believe she gave my car away.”
“It was your mother’s prerogative to do as she saw fit with the car. If it’d been—” Tim slowed as he approached the office to wave at Valerie, who was walking with a young family toward a station wagon parked out front.
Her return wave came slowly—as if she didn’t recognize him—but he didn’t really know what else to expect from her, anyway. She was becoming not much more than a fond memory for him.
Kevin rolled down his window and shouted to her, “You on-site on Monday?”
Tim stopped the truck and waited for Kevin to get his answer, curious at the discussion. Apparently, Kevin interacted with her more than Tim did.
Valerie jogged over, tucking her loose hair behind her ears and looking lovely as always, but…tired. There were bags under her eyes and her usually glowing skin looked a bit sallow.
She looked unrested.
Someone needs to take care of her. He’d thought that someone should have been him, but he couldn’t force himself into her life, even if it were the best thing for her.
“No, I’m not going to be here on Monday,” she said to Kevin when she approached the window. She gave Tim a small wave, and he tipped his chin to her, intrigued.
“When do you think you’ll be back?” Kevin asked.
“Wednesday morning, I think. It just depends on how much aggravation my bosses are going to give me. Might be later if I have to throw everything at the kitchen sink at them. Earlier if they decide to cut me loose.”
Cut her loose?
Tim couldn’t see that happening. He’d done his due diligence on her in between bouts of cursing her name and bemoaning her rejection. She was a talented architect. Her name was dropped into trade articles posted all over th
e Internet, and there were people watching on her, waiting for her to leave her current firm. She had to know that.
“Are you gonna be able to write that letter for me?”
“Yeah, no matter what happens. Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of you.”
That should have been Tim’s line to her.
He let out a breath and shifted into first gear. “Kevin, we gotta go.”
“Well, you heard him,” Kevin said to Valerie. “I’ll see ya.”
She waved.
Tim put his foot to the gas pedal again and stole a glance at Valerie in the mirror as he headed toward the highway.
She stared at the retreating truck, wringing her hands.
Tim fixed his gaze on the road. “What kind of letter do you need from her?”
“It’s nothing.”
For God’s sake.
Tim growled softly and thumped the steering wheel with the fleshy parts of his fists. “You know you can tell me, right? You can tell me things and I’m not going to get on your case.”
“Why do you even care?”
“Because apparently, everyone knows what’s going on in your life except your mother and me. We’d get on a lot easier if you told us things, you know that right?”
“What difference does it make? Y’all have already moved on to the next phase of your life, and that’s okay. I commend you. Do what you gotta do.”
“You know that’s not fair. We’ve done everything we’ve can in the past nineteen years to give you what you needed and most of what you wanted.”
“And how do you know what I want?”
“What?”
“How do you know?”
“I—” Tim closed his mouth on the words and furrowed his brow, staring at the highway ahead. He didn’t know, really. Nothing particularly stood out in his mind as something Kevin had said he’d wanted, besides the car, anyway.
“See. You don’t know. You just assumed.”
“What did I assume?” He caught Kevin’s shrug in his periphery.
“You were so busy trying to raise me up to be respectable that you didn’t stop to think about what I actually wanted to be or do, and because of that, I never figured it out.”
“The only thing we wanted was for you to not squander your potential. We wanted you to go to college and—”
