Meri quirked an eyebrow. “That sounds promising. Sort of.”
Geordie erupted in a surprised laugh. “And he didn’t even try to sleep with me.”
“Did you want him to?”
“No. I mean I like him okay, when he isn’t ranting at me. But I’ve spent way too long in a scene where hello and a drink always ends in sex. It was such a relief.” She lifted one shoulder. “It sort of made me like him better.”
Carlyn skidded around the corner and into the room. “What did I miss?”
“Bruce didn’t sleep with Geordie.”
“Yikes, did you want him to?”
Geordie threw a panicked look toward the open door. “No.” Not yet anyway.
“Don’t worry. They’re in there squabbling over whether to gut the upstairs bedrooms first or the downstairs parlor. And want me to come up with enough money to hire two crews. Hah!” She turned to Geordie. “Shoestring Budgets R Us. I think if we ever had one full crew, we’d swallow our tongues, turn blue and pass out. Then nothing would ever get done.”
Geordie narrowed her eyes at Carlyn. Was she hinting that Geordie’s family could finance the whole project? They probably could. But Geordie wasn’t going to ask them.
“Well, I don’t care what they do,” Meri said. “I spent yesterday running a thorough inspection of my ceiling and plan to start pulling samples today.”
“That’s what I told them. So, Geordie, are you coming back to work for real?”
“Bruce said I wasn’t fired.”
“Bruce couldn’t fire you anyway. And if he tries to bully you anymore, I’ll give him what for.” Carlyn snapped her teeth together, a gesture so at odds with her bubbly personality that Meri and Geordie laughed.
“We’d better get hopping before they drink all the coffee. Oh, did Meri explain that part of the job description is Friday nights at the karaoke bar?”
“Blue-oo moo-oo-oon.” Carlyn and Meri danced out the doorway.
Geordie grabbed a camera and her laptop and followed them out.
THE DAY WENT quickly. When she wasn’t needed as a photographer, Geordie pitched in to help the others. She and Carlyn rearranged the office to accommodate a giant file cabinet, then collated a list of possible donors. Bagged samples of paint that Meri lowered in a bucket from the top of the scaffolding and organized them in a metal file box that would be carried to the lab for analysis.
Bruce took off around lunchtime to work another job, and Doug went to lunch with a colleague who could potentially loan them several interns. Geordie, Meri, and Carlyn ate deli sandwiches sitting on the back steps, since Meri was covered with dirt, dust, and paint chips; smelled like something astringent; and didn’t want to change just to go out for food.
Geordie crunched into a pickle spear and chewed slowly. “Bruce said I should sign up for some courses.”
Meri rolled her eyes. “I think you’ve nailed the photography part.”
“How to recognize different architectural details and stuff like that.. Do you know of any?”
“Yeah, there are lot of online classes.”
“I’ve read a lot online already.”
“There is nothing wrong with your photos. You’d probably do better to take some basic architecture history classes. So you know what to look for. But do you even like architecture?”
“Sure.”
“Seems to me,” Carlyn said, crumpling her sandwich paper and putting it back in the bag. “You are more inspired by people than wood and stone.”
“Well . . .” Geordie thought about it. Carlyn was right. She’d been at Marble House yesterday, and though she couldn’t take interior shots, there were thousands of exterior details to shoot, and most photographers would have a field day with the teahouse. But Geordie had spent her time watching teenage girls, butterflies, and four women tourists.
She couldn’t just keep jumping from one thing to another. She put down her sandwich. Wiped off her hands. Told Carlyn and Meri about her father’s ultimatum. “I can never settle down to one thing. My parents have had it with me. I tried studio art. My sketching was lousy, my sculpting was worse, so I got into photography. Had a couple of successes at student shows, but didn’t get a blink from any of the professional galleries.
“I thought maybe journalism. Worked a few months for a local paper. God, it was boring and they cropped my photos any way they wanted just to fit them between type and advertisements. Besides, newspapers are going the way of all printed matter.
“And I wanted to have control.” And wasn’t that the truth? “At least have a say in what I photograph. Then I thought I would do fashion photography. I mean you’re there with the model. Looking for something special, finding it and pulling it out of them, or discovering something different, working with them to get the perfect look. but everything was so . . . editorial, getting the right “Look.” It was all put out there rather than discovered. I was more interested in . . . I don’t know.”
“Regular people?” Meri suggested.
“Well, yeah. But what kind of job is that? Weddings. Birthday parties? Living out of my car and transporting prints from street fair to street fair?”
“Why not?” Meri asked.
“If that’s what it takes,” Carlyn said.
“Can you just see my dad? Well, you don’t know him. But he’d have a fit.”
Both women just looked at her.
“He would kick me out of the apartment.”
Still just looked.
“How would I survive?”
“The way the rest of us do.”
Geordie slumped back. “How do you do it?”
“Well, first,” Meri said. “You have to be firm with your parents. My dad was great. Ready to help me out in any way he could, make the path easier, but he knew I had to stand on my own two feet first, before I could accept his help. He did that with the boys, too. And Carlyn had to work her way through school.”
“I’m still paying off student loans. I’ll probably take some to the grave.”
“But you could pay them off faster if you worked in finance.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to. I’m doing what I want to do.” Carlyn made a face. “Meri’s fault. She got me hooked.”
“And Carlyn got me hooked on karaoke.”
“Now we’re stuck with each other.”
“Side by side,” they both sang.
They were so goofy, but Geordie was a little envious. She’d never had a friend as close as they were. She wondered if she ever would. And would ever have the courage to follow her passion instead of what she knew was rational and expected. When her “dilettantism,” as her mother called it, would turn into an avocation.
She had a feeling photography was the one. It’s what she always came back to, always took with her. She just had to figure out a way to say no, to be willing to fail, to face whatever she had to face to make it work. And if it didn’t work? Well, hell, Meri had said she was afraid of what the future might hold. Everyone with a brain was a little afraid. It kept you on your toes.
“Just make a start.”
“Uh-oh,” Meri broke in. “You’d better say something quick or Carlyn is going to really start singing. And then, alas, I’ll have to join in. And of course we’ll expect you . . .”
“Okay, okay. I’m going to do some serious soul searching.”
“When?”
“Starting tonight. Now, let’s get back to work. There’s something I want to do before the guys get back.”
They went inside and Geordie led the way past the kitchen, past the office, and into the foyer.
Carlyn grabbed at her sleeve. “Holy cow, Geordie. You don’t have to do this.”
“You said make a start.” She glanced back at them, her breath already beginning to hitch just thinking about what she was about to do. The swe
at beginning to collect in her armpits.
“Are you sure?” Meri came to stand next to Geordie.
Geordie nodded; she wasn’t sure she could talk.
“Oh hell,” Carlyn came up to her other side. “Just so you know. I hate climbing almost as much as I hate stinky.”
“You don’t have to,” Geordie breathed out.
“Neither do you. On the count of three.”
One.”
Geordie concentrated on the rung in front of her face. Put an image of a calming ocean in her mind. Counted to five for each breath. In, out, in, out.
“Two.”
She licked her lips. It was now or never. She’d done the therapy. She knew what to do. Focus, concentrate on her safe place. She’d managed before. She’d just been stupid last night. She could do this.
“Three.”
She would do this.
Beside her Meri and Carlyn put a foot on the first rung and each laid an encouraging hand on her back.
Geordie pushed her foot to the first rung. It felt a heavy and sluggish, but finally it settled on the rung. She felt the other two women shift weight and they had both feet on the scaffolding.
Geordie lifted her other foot. She could hear Carlyn humming “Side by Side” under her breath. It was such a cornball thing to do. The kind of thing a few weeks ago, Geordie would have made fun of. Scoffed at.
She was grateful for it now. Beside her, Meri joined the song and they climbed another rung. And another. Somewhere in their ascent Geordie added her voice to theirs. It was breathy and wobbly but it was there and it got her to the top.
She didn’t stand but sat at the edge of the platform between Meri and Carlyn, not daring to look down.
Until a voice below them exclaimed, “What the hell?”
She did look down then, and the world started to spin.
Meri and Carlyn each put an arm around her.
“Go away,” Meri yelled.
But Bruce just stood there.
“Now!” Carlyn said.
Bruce backed up, his eyes on Geordie and she realized she was looking back and she wasn’t dizzy.
And then he was gone; she closed her eyes.
Chapter 11
“NOW THAT WE’RE up here,” Meri said. “Look up at my ceiling.”
Geordie opened her eyes and looked up. She still had to concentrate on breathing slowly, and she still felt a little shaky, but she looked at the dingy ceiling and wondered what Meri was seeing that excited her so much.
“Can you see it?”
“Your ceiling?”
“No. That.”
Geordie couldn’t see anything but ugly paint.
Meri stood up, making the scaffolding vibrate. Geordie clutched at the wood she was sitting on.
“Look,” Meri said pointing to a crack in the paint. “I cheated a little. It wasn’t my fault some of the paint flaked off and there is a small line. Which might be, just might be . . . something important.” She shrugged.
“Don’t mind her, she tends to get carried away.”
Meri did seem a little excitable. What could she possibly expect to see in that less-than-an-inch square of something that looked just as muddy as the first layer of paint?
And then a revelation hit her so forcibly that she almost forgot to be afraid. Whatever Meri was seeing was the same thing Geordie saw when looking through a lens. She squinted at the ceiling, but it still looked dingy and murky eggplant gray.
“Can you tell what’s underneath?” she asked.
“Nope. We can’t afford any X-ray equipment, just like we can’t afford a hydraulic lift, hence the scaffolding.” She gestured to the wooden planks that stretched almost wall-to-wall.
There were two moveable platforms set at opposite ends of the platform. “What are those for?”
Meri grimaced. “For when I can’t reach a place standing and have to lie on my back.”
Geordie wrinkled her nose at the prospect.
“Sort of like Michelangelo at the Sistine Chapel.” Meri grinned.
Geordie cast another upward look. “What if there’s nothing underneath all that paint but more ugly paint?”
“Oh, there will be.”
“Are you sure?”
“Hell, Geordie, no one knows anything for sure,” Carlyn said.
That was true if Geordie’s life up to this point was any indication.
“But Doug has a sixth sense for diamonds in the rough,” Meri said.
“Though this is a little rougher than usual,” Carlyn added.
“Do you always work for Doug?”
“As much as I can,” Meri said. “Sometimes I work on other projects. Actually I’m kind of in demand. But my loyalty is to Doug.”
“What about you, Carlyn?”
“So far just for Doug. It’s the kind of thing where you build a relationship with your colleagues, and with the donors, too. Now, they only run sometimes when they see me coming.”
“And Bruce?”
“He’s come in a few times for consults, but this is the first time he’s been in at the beginning.”
“Kind of wound tight,” Carlyn said.
“He could probably give you some insight into the job thing,” Meri said. “He just went solo so he could spend more time doing restoration work. I think he’s having a little trouble making ends meet.”
Carlyn wagged a finger, Motown style. “But don’t let him bum you out.”
“Big chip on his shoulder,” Meri added.
“Yeah, I got that. Though . . .” Geordie thought about his reaction to her photos the night before, how he’d relaxed and talked about his work and hers as they ate, how he slipped his arm around her when she came to the balcony. A gesture of security, understanding, maybe.
“Though what?” Carlyn asked.
“Nothing. I don’t know.”
“You want me to try and line you up some other jobs? We do most of our own documentation except at the beginning and end of a project. Freelancing is satisfying but it takes some juggling to be working all the time.”
“I know. I’m not sure I can do it.”
Meri shifted her weight. “Well, only you can figure it out, but we’re here to listen. But right now, I have to get to work.” She slid her feet to the rungs.
“You coming?”
Geordie made a face. “Funny.”
BRUCE STOOD AT the kitchen counter, feeling like his heart was caught in his throat. He’d seen Geordie sitting up on that scaffolding with a mixture of anxiety, relief, and a little jealousy that she’d managed it with Meri and Carlyn and not him. Which was totally ridiculous.
But he’d imagined himself helping her over her phobia like some knight in slightly tarnished armor. Like he didn’t have enough to worry about. At least his client had finally settled on tile for the bathroom and he’d placed the order before she could change her mind again.
If he had Geordie’s money, he’d never work on another kitchen newer than the nineteenth century. He didn’t understand why she didn’t see what talent she had. Why she didn’t just tell her parents that she was going to be a photographer. Surely they’d be proud of her.
If he’d had parents . . .
GOING DOWN TOOK a little longer than the going up, but Geordie did it and when she stepped onto terra firma her knees held her up and she didn’t feel sick. That was a start.
“Well, I’ve got to suit up and get back to work. See you girls later.” Meri took off down the hall to the equipment room.
“Yeah, I know,” Carlyn said. “Just being around her kind of keeps you going.”
“I’ll say. So can I help with anything this afternoon?”
“Nope, I’m off on an info-gathering trip to the archives. Doug should be back in an hour or so. You could see if Bruce ne
eds anything.”
“Right.” Geordie followed Carlyn back to her office, picked up her camera bag and went to find Bruce. She was ambivalent about seeing him. He’d seen her at her most stupid, stuck on the scaffolding rails. He’d seen her at her most vulnerable, not when she was paralyzed with fear, but when he’d taken the time to look at her photographs. She knew then that he got what she was about. Because suddenly she could see her work through someone else’s eyes. Someone whose judgment she could trust.
She hardly knew him, but she knew in that moment that he saw it, too. Still she wasn’t ready to meet him face-to-face. It had been an interesting evening. One that could have turned out much differently, and she would have enjoyed it, probably, but she was glad it had turned out the way it had.
Now at least there wouldn’t be that “next day” awkwardness. And if there was something that could develop between them, it would develop in its own time, in its own way.
He was standing at the sink, looking out the window.
“Hey,” she said as she entered the kitchen.
“Hey.” He turned but didn’t meet her eyes. “You want coffee?”
“No . . . thanks. I need to apologize. I was trying to fake my way through this job instead of asking for help. And I screwed up.”
He shrugged. He wasn’t giving her much help. Maybe he was still angry, though last night he’d seemed anything but.
“Look I’m a spoiled rich kid. No, I was a spoiled rich kid. I’m an adult and I know it’s about time I started acting like one.”
“Like climbing up scaffolding when there’s no one around if you fell?”
“It was stupid. I just wanted to—I had to prove something to myself and failed miserably. Anyway, thanks, for saving my butt. I would’ve still been up there if you hadn’t come to the rescue.” She sighed. “Seems like someone is always rescuing me.”
“You’re lucky.”
“I know, and I’m appreciative. But when there is always someone to take care of you, send you money, bail you out when you get in over your head, it’s not very conducive to standing on your own two feet and taking the consequences of your actions.” She bit her lip. “And to have the courage of your convictions. Hell, I don’t even have convictions. Or know what I want to do in life.”
Newport Dreams: A Breakwater Bay Novella Page 9
