Jimmy looked at his mother, who smiled encouragingly. “I sure could, Mr. Andrew. I’d do a good job, just like I do here.”
Andrew nodded. “I know you’ll do a good job—you’ve never let me down. Not even once.” He paused. “There’s something else, Jimmy. I don’t know what kind of flowers to use at my hotel. Do you think you could come look around, and then tell me what you’d choose? I’m not very good with stuff like that, and I could use some help.”
Jimmy looked surprised. “You want me to help choose the flowers?”
“I do. I think you’d choose really well.”
Jimmy looked at his mother with sheer joy. “Can we, Mom? Can we go look?”
“Of course we can,” she said, her eyes shiny with unshed tears.
Andrew scribbled on a piece of paper, then slid it across the table to Mrs. Sturgis. “Here’s the address of the hotel. You can go any time. Jimmy, once you’ve decided, let me know and we’ll go shopping for plants, okay?”
Jimmy nodded. “Yes, sir, Mr. Andrew. I’ll choose good flowers.”
“I know you will. Now, have some Oreos.”
Jimmy’s face split into an even wider smile. “Oreos are my favorite!”
“I know they are. Florence always buys lots just for you.”
Tabs had to wipe away a tear of her own as she watched Jimmy’s transformation from despair to joy. She wished that everyone who dealt with special needs had the chance to work for someone who cared so much about them.
When Jimmy had eaten his fill and washed it down with the milk Florence brought in, he was ready to go home, and he walked toward the front of the house with a little more of a bounce in his step. Mrs. Sturgis paused before following. “Mr. Brody, thank you so much for giving my boy a chance. You have no idea how much working for you has meant to him.”
Andrew held up a hand. “Jimmy earned this job, Mrs. Sturgis. He’s a hard worker, he’s honest, and I can’t think of one person I’d rather have on my team.”
She smiled, blinking rapidly. “He’s a good boy. Thank you for seeing that in him.” She ducked out of the room, and Tabs heard her footsteps crossing the floor and the front door closing.
“I don’t know Jimmy at all, but I love him,” Tabs said. “I want him to be my best friend.”
“He’s an amazing kid,” Andrew replied. “His mother used to work in my father’s office, and when he died, I decided to look after the family a bit. I didn’t realize how much I’d be blessed for it—his kind of loyalty is rare.” He pulled in a deep breath, then exhaled. “All right. Changing subjects again. How are we coming on the upper floor of the hotel?”
Marissa pulled another sheet out of her folder. “So, we ordered the stuff we’d need for upstairs several days ago, separate from the stuff for the back wing, and I’ve now heard from all the suppliers that our things have been shipped. They should be here starting to arrive on Thursday, which is perfect timing because the floors will be sealed and ready to go by then. The top coat will be applied on Tuesday. It’s going to be stinky at the hotel for a few days between the varnish and the sealant—might want to warn people about that.”
Andrew nodded. “So, we’ll have furniture in place Thursday. That’s great. Linens and whatnot?”
“They’re coming the following Monday.”
“I’d just as soon not put the linens out until just before we open,” Florence interjected. “We don’t want them picking up construction dust and all that nonsense.”
“Excellent point,” Andrew said. He rubbed his forehead. “Are we still on schedule, do you think? Can we open the main part of the building in six weeks?”
Marissa and Tabs looked at each other. Six weeks . . . that was so soon. “You’ll have to check with Rob on that,” Tabs said at last. “I know he’s got guys ripping out the old kitchen cabinets and laying new flooring in the dining room in addition to guys ripping out trees . . . that’s a lot of guys . . . but I have no way of knowing their estimated finish time.”
Andrew nodded again. “Okay, I’ll give him a call. First, though, let’s finish eating.” He grabbed another sandwich and sent Marissa a wink. Tabs grabbed the last Oreo. Chocolate stuffed with white fluffy oil . . . sometimes one needed chocolate stuffed with white fluffy oil.
Chapter Seven
Griffin nodded with satisfaction. Rob’s demolition crew had pulled out all the old cabinets, and the carpenters were now building and installing the cabinets Griffin had designed. He stood back and looked at the one they’d completed, imagining what the room would look like when everything was up. The cabinets were on the opposite wall from where they were going to put in the walk-in fridge and freezer, so hopefully they’d be able to demo that wall and add on to the room without everyone getting in each other’s way. He’d never worked on such an ambitious project before—he really hoped they’d be able to pull it off.
Will, his assistant, came into the kitchen just then. “The last trees have been removed,” he said. “They’re just running the trunks through the chipper now.”
“Great,” Griffin replied. Andrew had asked them to keep the chips on site to use as bedding in the barn, and he thought that was a great idea. “What do you think?” He nodded toward the finished cabinet.
“It’s going to look great. Is there anything else you need me to do before I run over to the Sanderson project?”
“No, go ahead. Thanks.”
Griffin had taken another job two days before, and was giving Will the lead on it. Will was a talented architect in his own right, and Griffin’s ultimate plan was to make Will a partner and expand the company. For now, they were still working job to job, but that couldn’t last forever.
Griffin thanked the carpenters for what they were doing, then exited through the kitchen and walked around the building to the front. The dining room floor was being worked on, so no one could cross it. Marissa had wanted to refinish it just like they were doing upstairs, but the wood was too badly damaged, and they were having to redo it. At least they’d found some flooring that had the same old-fashioned look to it—it shouldn’t be too obvious that it wasn’t original to the building.
He climbed the porch steps and entered the lobby, then crossed to the office. Marissa was sitting cross-legged on the desk, sketching, and looked up and smiled when he entered.
“Hey,” she said. “Andrew said he texted you.”
“Yeah.” Griffin held up his phone. “Where is he?”
“Here,” Andrew said, coming down the hallway from the private living quarters. “My interior decorator brought me some paint samples, and asked my opinion. I don’t actually have an opinion.” He handed some colorful cards back to Marissa. “I held these up to the wall like you told me to, and I can’t decide. You choose whatever you think is best.”
She rolled her eyes. “You can’t just automatically like everything I show you. That’s not how this works.”
“I can’t help it if you choose great colors.” He grinned at her, then turned to Griffin. “Thanks for stopping in. I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Sure. What is it?”
Andrew motioned to a couple of folding chairs in the corner. As they sat, Marissa hopped up. “I’m starving. Want me to grab some lunch for you two?”
“Yes, please,” Andrew replied. “Hungry, Griffin?”
“I’m fine,” Griffin replied. “I ate about an hour ago.”
“I shall return,” Marissa said, leaving and closing the office door halfway behind her.
Andrew leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I’ve been thinking about this since you mentioned growing up on a boys’ ranch,” he said slowly. “And I realize that I might be overstepping my bounds, and that’s not my intention. I just . . . well, it’s like this. Learning these things about my ancestors has given me some peace about my upbringing, and I’m finally starting to feel proud of being a Brody.”
Griffin had no idea what this had to do with him, but he’d hear Andrew
out.
“You’ve done a lot for us here, and I’d like to show my thanks—more than just a paycheck. Would you . . .” he hesitated. “Would you allow me to ask Matt to see if he can find your family?”
Griffin was stunned. Find his family? But that wouldn’t even be possible—no one knew who he was or where he’d come from. He didn’t even know his real name.
Andrew seemed to read the thoughts that were churning through his brain. “I know it’s a long shot, and I know we might not find anything, but I think it’s worth a try,” he said. “And once you have the information, you can decide what to do with it. I’m not pressuring you in any way—it’s just an offer.”
Griffin nodded. “I appreciate that. I just . . . I honestly don’t know. You just kind of blew my mind.”
“I understand. Why don’t you think about it?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.” Griffin stood up, then paused. “I don’t want to seem ungrateful—that’s a really kind thing you’re offering. I just . . . I just don’t know right now.”
“Take whatever time you need. I’m not in a hurry.”
Griffin stepped out of the office, his mind in a whirl, and almost ran into Tabs. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“No worries. But wait—what’s the matter?” She looked at him curiously. “You look upset.”
“I’m not upset exactly. I’m . . . I don’t know what I am.”
She pursed her lips and looked off to the side, then back at him. “So, since we’ve established that I don’t exactly hate you, I think I could probably stand having an actual conversation with you, if you want to talk.”
He studied her eyes. “You haven’t told me yet what you mean by not hating me.”
“Uh, it means that my feelings are not feelings of hatred. Isn’t that kind of self-explanatory?”
“Yes, but you haven’t told me what your feelings are.”
“I think you should be pretty grateful that at least they aren’t hatred. Are we going to talk or what?”
He nodded. He didn’t know why she’d made the offer, but he was glad she did—he needed to figure this out, and if there was anyone he wanted to bring into this struggle, it was her. He wanted her to know who he was, not just the jerk she saw on the outside, and he was willing to be vulnerable to make that happen.
They went outside and sat in his truck, a somewhat private place. They rolled down the windows so they wouldn’t get baked in the interior heat of the cab.
Griffin outlined the situation for Tabs, then turned to her. “So, what do you think I should do? I mean, on the one hand, if there is some information out there about my family, it might be nice to have it. But what if there’s nothing to find? Or what if I learn that they were horrible people? I guess I’m just so used to being a nobody that this whole idea is kind of rattling me, you know?”
“Like, maybe you’re comfortable with the life you’ve created for yourself, and you don’t want anything to shake that?” she asked.
“Yeah. And it’s taken me a long time to get to this point. When I was a teenager, if you’d asked me this same question, I would have been all over it. I used to flip through newspapers and magazine and study the pictures to see if I could spot someone who had my eyes or my nose—I wanted to belong to someone that badly. And now . . .” He exhaled. “Andrew says that learning about his ancestors has given him a lot of peace, but we’re talking, over a hundred years ago. It’s my parents we’d be searching for, not my distant relatives who’ve been dead and buried for a century.”
Tabs nodded. “Yeah. With any luck, your parents are still alive, and you’d have the chance to ask them questions and get to know them.”
“But do I want to get to know them? That’s the whole thing right there. As things stand, I can tell myself that maybe they were really young and felt like giving me up was the best thing for me, and that I just got lost in the system. If I meet them, I might find out that they just threw me away and didn’t care. I like my version of the story better.” Griffin tightened his hands on the steering wheel, needing some way to relieve stress.
“I’m not the best at giving advice, but I’ll tell you what I do when I need to make a tough choice,” Tabs said. “I imagine that I’ve decided, and then I imagine how I would feel with that decision made. Would I have any regrets, what would my life look like, what would I need to change or adjust to make it work. Then I imagine that I’ve made the other choice. Usually, when I take the time to really think about it, I can figure out which choice is best. You’ll know which one feels right. But take your time. It’s not something you have to decide right now, is it?”
“No. Andrew said to take whatever time I needed.”
“Well, there you go. And if you decide no for now, maybe you can tell him that you might want to think about it again down the road.”
“Yeah. That’s true.” Griffin stared out through the windshield, then turned back to her. “Thanks for not hating me long enough to listen, Tabs. I just needed someone to be my sounding board, and you’ve been great.”
She shrugged. “You looked like you needed someone.”
“I did.”
He looked into her eyes, wanting to say more, but just then, another car pulled into the driveway and honked. Marissa got out, then lifted several fast food sacks from her passenger seat.
“I know you said you weren’t hungry, Griffin, but I know men get hungry fast,” she said, passing a sack through his open window. “And this one’s for Tabs.”
Griffin accepted his sack and handed Tabs hers. “Thanks, Marissa,” he said. “That was really nice of you.”
“No worries,” she said. “Better eat before your fries get cold.”
She headed into the hotel, and Griffin opened his sack. She’d gotten him a bacon cheeseburger with extra onions, the same way he always ordered them. He chuckled and shook his head. “How does she do that?” he asked no one in particular. “We haven’t dated in ages, but she still remembers how I like my burgers.”
“That’s just how she is,” Tabs replied. “If you mention liking something even once, she’ll remember and get it for you for Christmas or something.”
“Yeah, I remember that about her. She’s got an amazing memory.”
“It’s not just that—she cares about people, and she shows that she cares about them by doing things she thinks they’ll like.” Tabs nodded toward his food. “And she still cares about you, even though you’re a jerk.”
“She was always too good to me,” Griffin mumbled, looking at his sandwich. “I didn’t deserve her.”
“She would have treated you the same regardless,” Tabs replied. “She treats people kindly whether they ‘deserve’ it or not. That’s why I was so furious when you broke up with her—she’d bend over backwards for you, and then she got treated like garbage in return. I felt like you’d taken total advantage of her.”
“And I didn’t even realize.” Griffin shook his head, unable to believe how selfish he’d been. “I don’t think I even noticed until now, looking back. I definitely didn’t deserve her, and she didn’t deserve me—she needed someone so much better. And I think she’s found that in Andrew.”
“I think she has too. He treats her really well.” Tabs studied him for a moment, and he felt a little awkward under her scrutiny. “If I’m going to be totally honest, I’d have to say that I think you’ve changed. I don’t know how much, and I’m not completely ready to remove you from your jerk status, but I see some improvements.”
Griffin smiled. “Careful. That almost sounded like a compliment.”
“Well, maybe it almost was one. Your fries are getting cold.”
They sat side by side to eat, neither saying anything more. Griffin’s mind was churning. Tabs was softening toward him, something he’d dreamed about countless times. But she didn’t deserve to be treated the way he’d treated Marissa—maybe it was just as well that she wasn’t interested in a relationship. And what about his parents . . . did he or d
idn’t he want to know who they were? If he decided he did, but Matt couldn’t find anything, would he be disappointed or relieved?
They finished eating, and Tabs gathered up the trash. “I’ll do the dishes,” she said, holding up the sack. She paused before getting out of the truck. “You’ll make the right choice,” she said softly. “Just listen to your gut.” Then she hopped out and was gone, leaving Griffin sitting there behind the steering wheel, trying to decide what his gut was telling him. He hadn’t listened to it for such a long time, he wasn’t even sure he knew what it sounded like.
Chapter Eight
When Tabs got home, she flopped onto her couch and stared at the ceiling. Some real surprises lately . . . all of them having to do with Griffin. How had he managed to chip away at the wall she’d so carefully built where he was concerned? It had been so easy to hate him . . . but she didn’t hate him. In fact, what she’d almost told him, but didn’t—thank goodness—was that she’d almost told him yes when he’d asked her out, and she was just as angry with herself about that as she was with him for asking. She felt as though she’d betrayed her friend just by being interested. And now he was sharing his problems with her and hoping she’d have the answers, and she was angry with herself for how badly she wanted to help him.
“Grrr,” she said out loud. This was complicated—so complicated.
If she did want to date Griffin, she didn’t think Marissa would care. She’d be concerned about Tabs getting hurt, but it wouldn’t cause any rifts in their friendship. But if she did date Griffin, and he tossed her away like he had Marissa . . . No. She wasn’t going to think about that. Nor was she going to think about the pain she’d seen in his eyes. She liked to fix things, but some things weren’t hers to fix, and Griffin Baker definitely fell into that category.
Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up to see a text from Tony. There—that was more like it. Tony was self-assured, solid, rooted. He didn’t glance at her with eyes full of pain. She didn’t feel the need to fix him—if something was wrong with him, he could fix it himself. That’s what she needed—someone who wasn’t scrambling, wasn’t searching. Someone who didn’t need her.
Heartstrings (Brody Hotel Book 2) Page 6
