“I’m sorry that this fell through. I appreciate all the effort you went through on your side to get a crew together so quickly. I’m sorry to have pull out,” he’d told the foreman Jack.
Jack waved him off and took a sip from his coffee. Landon did the same. Sitting at a conference table, the wall opposite was covered in pictures both old and new of the island and surrounding area.
“It happens. We’ve had a fair share of losing projects over the past few years. It’s why I’ve started diversifying our guys.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’ve been working on smaller projects, not just big developments. So the crew has had to learn how to work on a restoration sometimes. It’s not always start from the scratch and build up. We’ve worked on additions, finishing basements, restoring an entire home, the whole thing.”
“Are those pictures some of your projects?” Landon pointed at the gallery wall.
Jack smiled and nodded, not needing to turn in his chair to understand what Landon meant.
“Yep. We’ve become one of the bigger firms handling restoration work. A lot of times homeowners don’t know who to call to get something fixed but they might know our name because we built a house in their neighborhood. I can say this has definitely improved our reputation within the community.”
Landon tilted his head and considered that. Hadn’t Kim said something similar to him? That he needed to get the community involved if he wanted to be a success. He’d blown it off assuming that if he built something desirable, the community would follow. But maybe he had it all wrong. If he’d built something the community wanted, that would enhance the area, then it would be a success because they would make it so.
“I hope to get the chance to work with you again in the future.”
Jack studied him and Landon fought the sudden urge to squirm. After a moment’s pause, the other man tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement. He’d be a formidable poker player, Landon decided. “If you do, I hope you’ll consider letting us help you in all aspects of the project.”
“What does that mean?”
Jack shifted in his chair. “Just that we know this area well, and we know what the buyers are looking for here.”
Another jab at the tiny house idea. Landon frowned. He felt rather like he was being kicked when he was down. He still felt the idea had merit for a community comprised of so many snowbirds. The size and expense of a condo with the autonomy of a house, to Landon tiny houses presented the best of both worlds. But his location had been problematic, he could admit that now.
“Thanks for the opportunity, Landon.” Jack reached across the table to shake hands and lifted out of his chair.
He followed suit, the indication that it was time to go apparent enough. Driving home, he’d been startled to see a familiar number pop up on his dashboard screen. His dad. Landon punched the ignore button. He didn’t want to hear what he had to say. No way could he have anything encouraging or positive to share.
He’d pressed ignore on three more phone calls after spending the rest of the day trying to figure out how he could move forward. He’d been searching to see what other sites might be available but nothing was the size he needed. He wanted his first project to keep him busy for the next several years, as he built up his own reputation and finances.
“Your father has spent the better part of the day hounding me.” The clear to the point voice of his grandmother interrupted his late afternoon reverie.
“I’m sorry, Grandmother,” Landon replied.
He opened his eyes and began to turn toward her when she approached. She put an arm around his shoulder and hugged him as they stood side by side. Staring out the French doors past the rarely used deck, he stared at the drooping Spanish moss hanging from the large Live Oak in her backyard. He imagined the twists in the gnarled branches occurred from the memories that haunted the tree. Instead of standing straight in perfectly pressed clothes, he gave off the illusion of having it all. Compared to many, he probably did. But with what he wanted, he should be broken and warped like the tree. Rooted in spot, unable to shake off the moss clinging to him, he finally broke from his grandmother’s embrace and turned to kiss her on each cheek.
“Do you want a coffee? A tea? Can I get you something?” he asked, taking in the purple circles under her eyes and the deep crease forming between her brows.
He knew better than to comment that she should rest. Even hinting that she appeared tired would get his ears boxed. Since he’d moved in with her, he’d been so focused on his purposes he hadn’t been taking care of her. She’d been his rock for so long. The idea of her getting older had never been real.
“Tea would be lovely. Put on the kettle, and I’ll get the service ready. I think I have some cookies too.”
“You do?” His stomach growled at the mention.
“I do. I’ve been hiding them away from you.”
Landon chuckled and walked back to the kitchen. They shared an insatiable sweet tooth and during his childhood summers, a day hadn’t passed without a sugar fix. Age brought more self-control, or so he told himself. He filled the teakettle and set it on the back burner. His cell phone vibrated in his back pocket. He glanced at the screen as he pulled the phone out. Another message from his Dad.
“You avoiding your father still?” His grandmother walked past him to pull lemon slices from the fridge.
He watched her set the lemons along with sugar on the silver serving platter next to her beloved Limoges teapot, two cups, two saucers, and two dessert plates. She moved to the tea caddy and pulled out three bags and dropped them into the teapot. The teakettle whistled and Landon pulled it off the burner with an oven mitt and carefully poured the hot water over the bags. The clear liquid instantly turned into a golden amber, and in a few minutes, he knew the color would grow even richer. A sweet, fruity smell released in the air. He was instantly transported to his childhood and spending the afternoons after school with his mother in exactly the same way.
“Can I carry this for you?” he asked his grandmother as he returned the teakettle to the stove to cool down.
“Yes.” She preceded him into the dining room and he carefully lifted the precious cargo.
She took her seat at the head of the table, and he set the service before her. She poured the tea as he settled himself next to her and sure enough a tray of cookies was waiting for him on the table. Grandmother put a teacup and saucer in front of him before handing him a dessert plate. He grabbed three cookies at once and dropped them on the plate. At his grandmother’s raised eyebrow, he put his hands in his lap.
“You can eat the cookies, but I was hoping first you’d answer that question for me.”
“About my father?”
She offered no other verbal response, instead taking a sip from her teacup.
Landon fought a sigh or other dramatic affection. She hated that sort of thing. He supposed he did too. Why make more out of something than was already there? Why not deal frankly and honestly and move on? But sometimes he didn’t want to talk about something and he appreciated the opportunity to stall.
“You already know I haven’t.”
“Don’t ignore your father. Don’t revert to being a teenager.”
“Do I have to?”
“I won’t dignify that with a response. Come on, Landon, you’ve been moping around all week. You have to find another route. You have to take a detour. You can. You’re smart, you’re creative, and you’re resourceful. And you have a support system behind you that wants to help.”
She paused to sip from her tea. He soaked a cookie in his cup and bit into it. The bright burst of lemon was dulled on his tongue by his sour mood. He’d love to believe that he had supporters around him. He needed a group that wanted him to succeed. Days spent watching his investors bail left him feeling alone.
“How do you know that?”
“What do you mean how do I know that? He’s your father. Of course he wants to help.”
/> “What if he doesn’t? What if he’s calling now that all of his friends have backed out of my project to demand that I come home?”
“Landon, he can’t do that. You’re an adult. You run your own life.”
“What life? My project fell through.”
“Figure it out. You want to stand on your own. Then come up with another plan.”
He took a long sip of his black tea, as dark as his mood. The bitter finish a perfect reflection. What plan? He hated this aimless feeling, so reminiscent of his immediate post-grad life. Focusing on one project at a time had kept him moving forward without needing to examine his motives too closely. But now with everything falling apart, he felt as hopeless as he had when she’d left.
“What plan?” he asked, all fire and fury gone. “I’m out of money, all of my backers are gone, and there aren’t any other stretches of land available.”
“Call you father. Talk to him. You don’t know what he’s going to say.”
“Grandmother, why are you pushing this?”
“Because I know what it’s like to push someone away. And I don’t want that relationship for you. I want you to have learned from my mistakes. I want better for you.”
Landon reached over to grab her hands in his. The wrinkled skin felt like crepe paper under his fingertips. She’d been so hard and strong his whole life. As an adult, he finally began to see her vulnerabilities and how delicate she was.
“I want better for you,” he said, squeezing her hands. “Call her, Grandmother, and then I’ll call my father.”
“I’ll think about it.” She slipped her hands out of his grasp and reached for her tea cup.
“Then I will too.”
Landon took a sip of his now chilly tea. He knew he had to be a man and face his father. If he wanted respect, then he needed to show that he deserved it. He had to take responsibility for his failures not just his achievements. Maybe he could learn something to help propel him forward. Or maybe starting over could help him move forward. Maybe he had to track down Kim and finally take her out to dinner.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Crouched on the floor of a dimly lit bathroom, Kim squinted reading the tape measure in her hand. She either needed glasses, better lighting, or both. Dropping the tool, it clanked against the ground before the recoil activated and the inches shrunk one by one back into the spool. Kim walked over to the door and pushed it open. In the main bar, she found a heavy chair and pulled it over, the legs scraping against the floor. She cringed and lifted the chair. She didn’t want to ruin Phil’s floors, especially after he’d worked so hard to refinish them.
She pushed the door open and held it back with the chair. She returned to her post, picking the tape measure up from where she’d dropped it in the corner opposite the door just past the sinks. The worn out bathroom had been scrubbed and repaired when Phil and Trish had taken over the bar. Kim knew because she had been the one doing many of the repairs. She’d stressed at the time that the tired space needed to be refreshed as soon as possible.
They’d saved enough to cover a contractor tearing the bathroom down to its studs. The contractor would give Kim a blank canvas to lay her tile and then he’d have to do all the dirty work of putting the toilets, sinks, and stalls back together. She’d deferred any payment, happy to be able to help her friends and thrilled to have free rein.
The space was now flooded with the light from the main room of the bar, helping to amplify what the dim fluorescent light could barely illuminate. Kim studied the eight by eight-square floor tiles that had been continued up the wall. Old and cracking they made her feel like she was in a restroom someone had diy’d in their basement. She shuddered. Scary basements gave her the creeps. And she’d avoided this bathroom every time she’d stopped by. Of course, she’d never actually been as a bar patron.
She took a step back and let her mind wander. She loved the idea of taking a beach theme to a fun, whimsical place. She pictured mermaids swimming along the wall, maybe combing their hair near the mirrors or applying make-up, and on the floor fish and the roll of the waves jumping. Sighing she bent down to retrieve her tape measure. This would be a lot of work. Maybe time she didn’t have. But she couldn’t let down Trish or go to a simpler vision, now that she had the perfect mosaic determined in her mind.
“Can we help?” a voice called out.
Peeking up quickly, Kim nearly hit her head under the sink. Ducking around the porcelain basin, she smiled as she straightened.
Trish stood before her with her cousin. Kim kept the smile frozen in place, despite the inner panic at seeing this other woman again. She was tall and slim with almond shaped eyes and long straight hair. In the light, her black hair almost seemed blue. Against her tanned skin, the color made the younger woman exotic and exciting. Kim once again felt the very opposite of those things.
Old and dried up. She gave herself a mental shake.
“I would love some help. But it requires bending. Maybe your cousin could assist me?”
“Absolutely.” The younger woman stepped forward and extended her hand. “I don’t think we officially met the other day. I’m Shannon but everyone calls me Shazz.”
“Nice to meet you.” Despite herself Kim smiled. Shazz was nice and straight forward. There could be worse options out there for Landon. Or a better one—me. Nope, she gave herself a mental shake. She had to stay on task. She didn’t have time for tangents or letting her mind wander. She had to focus and worrying about setting up her ex or destroying a potential relationship of his had no place in her very tight schedule.
“What is it with your family and nicknames?” Kim teased, dropping the hand.
“My Mom,” Trish added. “She raised us together like sisters and she loved nicknames.”
“What was hers?” Kim asked, curious.
“Mom,” Trish chuckled. “Her given name was Carol and she never had a nickname. I think that’s why she got hooked on them by the time we came along.”
“So what do you need?” Shazz interrupted.
“I only have a little bit of time to take measurements today, and then I have to go to the craft fair. I have a booth to work.”
“You do? Still? I thought you were going to get out of it,” Trish prodded.
Kim shook her head, her hair slipping from the lazy bun she’d pulled it into when she rolled out of bed that morning. She’d agreed to the spot months ago when her job allowed her plenty of time to pursue her other work. After a full week of staying past ten at the SCL office, she had wanted to chuck all her mirrors and frames into the ocean and back out. But she’d made a promise, and she also hated to miss the opportunity for a little extra income. She had plenty of inventory.
“I’ll go down with you, if you want company.”
“Sounds good.” Kim smiled.
Trish’s company meant increased sales, and someone to chat with during the downtime.
“Oh, before you get started, I almost forgot.” Trish rushed out of the doorway and came back with a steaming mug a few minutes later.
“Seems only fitting that I at least get you a coffee if you’re here at six thirty on a Saturday to do free labor for me.”
“This is all the payment I need.” Kim assured her while she took a sip.
“Okay. I’ll be just upstairs if you need me.” Trish backed out of the doorway and was gone.
Kim took a deep, long sip. Trish preferred flavored coffee to tea. Kim wasn’t much of a coffee drinker, unless she was at Trish’s. She had a knack for finding unique flavors. This particular cup tasted like a coconut cookie. Kim settled the mug on the shelf above the sink under the mirror, typically reserved for purses while women touched up their make-up.
“Where do we start?” Shazz asked, her fingers tapping out a rhythm on her legs.
“I need a lot of measurements. I’d appreciate your help.”
“Sure thing.” She extended a hand out for the tape measure and Kim pulled out the little tongue.
Shazz backed out of the room and Kim stretched the tape to the wall. She noted the length and then they proceeded a dance around the room. Standing nearly three inches taller, Shazz easily reached up high for Kim. After all the measurements had been taken, Kim and Shazz walked out into the bar room.
“I thought I’d just make a few more notes about my idea and maybe a sketch.”
“Sure, I love it. Mermaids sound great. I can’t wait to help.”
“Oh, you’re going to help? That’s awesome.”
“Are you sure? You sound a little taken aback.”
Kim scrunched up her nose. “I am. Sorry, I’ve never had an assistant before. I don’t know that I’ll be all that great to learn from, but I am glad of the help. This project is going to be a lot of work.”
“I’m just giving you a hard time. It’s fine.”
“Do you have an art background at all? I don’t. But I’m just curious.”
“No, not really. I’m sure Trish has told you some of my history. I’ve been a little bit of a Jill of all trades. I guess I’ve worked mostly in entertainment and bartending. Always bartending.”
“I know Trish is hoping you’ll stay here for a little bit.”
Shazz nodded but didn’t say anything. She stared past Kim. Kim knew when not to push someone. She turned her focus back to her notebook and quickly sketched out the design she’d had in her mind’s eye. The mermaids danced among the waves and colorful fish glided along the floor. She spun the page around to Shazz for her inspection.
“What do you think? Does this have your approval?”
“Absolutely. When do we get started?”
Kim chuckled. She liked her enthusiasm. Trish had told her that Shazz had never held down a job for long. But maybe St. Simons, the bar, and being close to her cousin would change things. St. Simons had given Kim a new purpose, maybe the same could happen to Shazz. Just not one involving Landon.
“I’d better go and get Trish. It was nice talking with you today, Shazz. After the contractors demolish the bathroom and fix all the cement board underneath, we’ll be able to start work. I promise I’ll take you with me to go pick out the tiles. We’re going to need a lot.”
Coastal Erosion Page 14
