BY DESIGN
Episode One
J. A. Armstrong
Text © Copyright 2015 J.A. Armstrong Books
All Rights Reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced without permission.
Chapter One: Candace
Chapter Two: Meeting Jameson
Chapter Three: Demons Past
Chapter Four: Kitchen Conversations
Chapter Five: Give it Time
Chapter Six: Baby Steps
Chapter Seven: Wishing You Were Here
Chapter Eight: I Just Needed You To Know
Chapter Nine: What I Should Have Said
Chapter Ten: A New Design
Chapter One: Candace
“I don’t care,” Candace Fletcher said to the man in front of her desk. “I don’t care if the president himself told you that. That was not our agreement, and you know it.”
“Now, Candy…be reasonable,” Bob Miller said cautiously.
“What is it…exactly…Bob, that you find unreasonable in my position?”
“The president needs you on this.”
“The president is not my boss. The people of New York are. You want me to endorse something that will further cut spending on infrastructure in a state that houses one the largest cities in the world.” Bob opened his mouth to speak, and Candace ran right over him. “A city that depends on public transportation to function. Might I remind you of the cost to the city of New York, the cost to business, and the cost to the federal government when New Yorkers can’t get to work?”
“You’re being a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” he said. Candace smiled so sweetly at Bob Miller he thought she might give him a cavity. That spelled trouble.
“Dramatic. Well, I do like the theater. No, Bob. I am thinking ahead. So, when the subways are stopped, or the George Washington Bridge is forced to close down, or the Lincoln Tunnel suddenly springs a leak; you can tell President Wallace that he can explain that to the millions of people inconvenienced, losing pay, and the companies losing profit.”
“Candy…”
“Don’t you dare Candy me…Get me a proposal that is reasonable, and I will be agreeable.”
Bob Miller sighed. “This job sucks,” he said.
Candace laughed heartily and came around her desk. “Well, Mr. Vice President, welcome to The White House,” she laughed some more.
“Oh yeah, it’s a joy,” he returned.
“You wanted the job,” she reminded him.
“Well, if you had shown any interest,” he began earnestly.
Candace laughed harder. “Oh yes, a fifty-five-year-old, divorced mother of three who happens to be a lesbian; that’s always the first choice on a presidential ballot.”
“Senator Fletcher?” a woman’s voice called through the door.
“Come in Susan,” Candace said. “The vice president was just leaving.”
“Still having that Christmas party?” the vice president asked.
“Me? Turn down the chance to throw a party? Should I expect your regrets?” she asked her old friend.
“Not even a Republican landslide could prevent me from making that party.”
“Bite your tongue,” Candace said. “The election is only two weeks away. No way are we losing that much ground.”
“I’ll talk to our people,” he assured her.
“I know you will. I can’t endorse it, Bob,” she said almost apologetically.
The vice president nodded. “I’ll be in touch.”
Candace watched him leave and chuckled. “Poor thing,” she said before turning to her personal assistant. “I have no idea why he wanted that job.”
Susan shrugged. “Why wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t you?”
“Hell no!” Candace answered with another laugh. “No way. I am happy where I am until I retire or get my ass handed to me.”
“When do you think that might be?” Susan asked jokingly.
“Depends on which way it happens,” Candace answered. She took a seat in a large leather chair and stretched.
“Well, from where I sit you do most of the “quote” ass handing,” Susan observed. Candace raised an amused brow at her assistant. “And, as for retirement? They’ll be wheeling your ass in here while you hand them theirs at the same time; oxygen tank and all; I am sure.”
Candace smirked. “So? What do you have for me?” she asked.
“Just the usual. Dana dropped off your press schedule, and Brian said he would get you the revised budget request from the Department of Transportation.”
“Great. That’s timely,” Candace mumbled.
“Not a great meeting; I take it?” Susan surmised.
“It was fine.” Senator Candace Fletcher was the chairman of the Transportation, Housing, and Urban Development Subcommittee. Appropriations. The job always came down to appropriations; how much money who could have to spend and where they would be spending it. Candace groaned. “I have no idea where they are going to pull more money from,” she said. “All I do know is that we have a lot to repair before we end up in a situation we can’t fix so easily.”
“Speaking of,” Susan said as she handed the senator a folder.
“What’s this?”
“Dana dropped it off with your press schedule. Said to tell you it’s Steven’s college friend that she mentioned,” Susan explained.
“Oh, the illustrious architect he had such glowing praise for,” Candy commented.
Candy loved her staff. Susan had been with her since her days in the New York State Senate. Dana Russo was Candy’s press secretary. Dana’s husband, Steven owned a large law firm in Maryland. He and Candace had both graduated from Cornell University, both studied political science and international law, and both had a secret passion for National League Baseball. Dana often joked that the only reason Senator Fletcher wanted her on staff was so she could drink beer with Steven, talk about Cornell, and watch the Mets.
“Well, interesting,” Candy mused as she studied the contents of the folder. “J.D. Reid Architectural Design. Jameson Reid. Summa Cum Laude from Cornell University 2002,” Candy read from the file. “And then again in 2005, huh? Wonder if Jameson likes the Mets,” Candy laughed.
“Still thinking of having the house restored?” Susan asked.
Candy smiled. She loved her home in upstate New York. She’d bought it from her brother shortly after her father’s death. For years, she had thought of restoring it to its original grandeur, and building an addition to expand the kitchen. “Oh, well…I am thinking about it,” she said.
“You’ve been thinking about it for the last fifteen years. Why not just do it?” Susan asked.
“The kids aren’t interested in the house,” Candy replied. Susan could detect a note of sadness in the senator’s voice. “You know, they thought I was crazy when I bought it from David. If they had their way I would sell it now and downsize,” Candy snickered sarcastically. “I swear they think after fifty you are just planning for the nursing home,” she laughed.
Susan nodded. The senator had three grown children, Marianne, Michelle, and Jonah. Susan had known them since they were small. They adored their mother, but they did not always understand her choices. Not the least of which was her coming out at forty-three as a lesbian after her divorce from their father. “They probably all want you to move closer to them so you can babysit.”
Candy snorted. “Well, last I checked the senator from New York did not keep residence in Massachusetts, California, or heaven forbid, Texas. No, I am a Yankee through and through,” she said. “They think smaller. Buy a condo. Buy a townhouse,” she laughed again. “Not my style.”
“So…call Mr. Reid,” Susan suggested.
“Maybe I will,” Candy said.
Chapter Two: Meet
ing Jameson
“Did I miss something?” Steven Russo asked his friend.
Jameson laughed. “No, you didn’t miss anything.”
“I thought this was your one true passion,” he joked. “So, what’s the problem?” he wondered.
“God, I hope that’s not my only passion,” Jameson laughed. “Steve, you know how I feel about politics.”
“Yeah, well you aren’t going there to debate her. You’re going there to look at her house,” he pointed out.
Jameson looked at the photograph of the Georgian style colonial home. The house had been built in 1798. This picture was dated 1998. Moderate changes were evident. The windows were custom; far more modern than the period that they were meant to reflect. The old clapboards at some point had been replaced with what appeared to be synthetic siding. The landscaping was pristine, certainly not the type that would have adorned this building in its youth. Jameson sighed. It was true. This was her passion. It was not the kind of work that made her millions. It was the kind of project that was, simply put, fun. This was a project she could dig into, research, design, and that would allow her to get her hands dirty.
“Come on J.D., just go talk to her,” Steven urged his friend.
Jameson puckered her lips and arched her eyebrow. “Fine.”
Steven flashed a sly grin at his friend. “You won’t regret it.”
Jameson had to snicker at the hop in her friend’s step as he left the room, phone in hand. She shook her head ruefully. “Why do I have a very bad feeling about this?” she muttered.
***
Candace stretched and rubbed her tired eyes. The weekend had been exhausting. Tuesday was Election Day, and that meant the last week had been full of stumping for local candidates and the district congressman. Typically, she thrived on this season. Campaigning could be tiresome, but Candace had spent her life around politics. It was in her blood. Her father had been a congressman for twenty years before his unexpected death, and her grandfather had served as Governor of New York for two terms. Candace’s brothers had both served locally, but neither seemed to have caught the “bug” as her father called it. She enjoyed meeting people, pressing the flesh as the like to call it, and rallying a crowd. This year, however, she was struggling with fatigue.
There were multiple issues weighing on the senator’s mind. Her children, while she adored all three, were increasing the pressure on her to consider stepping back a bit from the fast lane. Candace found their concern amusing most days. Marianne was twenty-eight and had just had her first baby. She lived in Austin with her tech savvy husband, Rick. Candace was still not sure exactly what her son-in-law did. He was a southern boy through and through, and her daughter’s move to Texas seemed inevitable once she was engaged. Marianne seemed to think that Candace should start considering retirement. She pointed out that her mother’s considerable wealth meant that Candace would never have to work again. And, why wouldn’t she want to be closer to her family? Candace had tried numerous times to explain gently that she had three children that qualified as family, and that she enjoyed her work. Marianne was much more like her Candace’s ex-husband. She had been daddy’s girl from day one. Candace finally suggested her eldest child might have more success in an attempt to entice her ex-husband to the Lone-Star State.
Michelle was Candace’s middle child, and by all accounts the most like her mother. She had chosen to stay closer to home after graduating college and was teaching high school outside of Boston. Candace was eternally grateful for Michelle. They frequently visited and Michelle seemed to understand Candace’s life more than her other children. When Candace and her husband Jonathan split, it was Michelle who had remained her mother’s stalwart supporter. Candace’s youngest child, Jonah was twenty-two and was pursuing his graduate studies at Caltech. Jonah tended to stay out of the family mix as much as possible. He had little interest in the political landscape, and Candace was aware that her public persona sometimes caused her son a degree of discomfort. She was unsure if that had more to do with her political positions or her sexuality. She suspected it was a bit of both. Many of Jonah’s friends came from conservative backgrounds. Candace was satisfied that he had made his peace with her life, but she was often in the press. She suspected Jonah took a fair amount of ribbing over the years from his peers about his mother’s relationship.
Personal issues and stresses aside, there were several pieces of controversial legislation set to be addressed in the new session. It was never comfortable to depart from one’s party platform. Candace had done it before, but never on a major piece of legislation. The president had a new education bill that he was set to propose. The House had made its revisions, and the issue was expected to come before the Senate early in the new legislative session. Candace sighed as her thoughts ran over the finer points that concerned her. It wasn’t the spirit or intention of the legislation that bothered her. The devil as they say was in the details. There were too many loopholes, too many obscure expenditures that she did not feel had any business in an education bill. If she decided to vote against the bill, others would likely follow. It was a decision she would need to weigh carefully, and just thinking about it was bringing on a formidable headache. She was ready to pour herself a stiff drink when she was startled by the doorbell. Candace looked at the large grandfather clock and furrowed her brow. “Who the hell could that be?”
***
Jameson made her way up the narrow brick pathway to the front door of Candace Fletcher’s home. She studied the building in front of her as she walked. It had been well preserved, but clearly updated throughout the years. She wondered what the senator envisioned. Jameson could see the structure in her mind’s eye as it would have appeared just over two hundred years ago. It brought a brief smile to her lips, and she took a moment to imagine the area with no driveways, roads, or street lights. “Must have been magnificent,” she mused. Jameson took a deep breath and reached out to ring the doorbell. “This ought to be interesting,” she chuckled.
***
“Pearl?” Candace called out. She was making her way toward the door when the older woman met her. “Are we expecting someone?”
Pearl’s eyes crinkled in amusement. She had worked for Candace’s family for years and considered the senator one of her children. “You mentioned someone coming about the house,” she winked at Candace.
“Oh my God, that’s right! How did I forget that? Damn good thing I’m not in my robe already.”
Pearl shook her head. It was only four o’clock and Candace was never that comfortable before the clock struck nine or ten. “You want me to send him away?” Pearl joked.
Candace waved the older woman off. “Go home, already,” she scolded. “I’ll take care of Mr. Reid,” she assured. She was still busy shooing the older woman away when she pulled the door open. “Go on, go home,” she waved Pearl off.
“I just got here,” Jameson offered lightly.
Candace caught the amused expression on Pearl’s face and turned to the figure in her doorway. It took her a moment to register the sight. “I’m sorry? Can I help you?”
“I think the question is; can I help you?” Jameson replied. Candace stood bewildered. “J.D. Reid,” Jameson said as she extended her hand.
“The architect?”
“That’s what the degree claims,” Jameson countered.
Candace finally smiled. “I’m sorry. I was expecting…”
“Let me guess; someone slightly taller with more facial hair.” Jameson winked playfully. “Guess Steven left a few details out.”
“Yes, he did,” Candace admitted. “Come in.” She watched as Jameson walked through the door and shook her head. “I am sorry,” Candace apologized.
“No need to apologize Senator Fletcher. Steven has a unique sense of humor sometimes.”
Candace nodded. “That he does,” she agreed. “And, please, just Candace.” Jameson nodded. “So, Ms. Reid…”
Jameson stopped the senator’s thoughts.
“J.D.”
“I’m sorry?”
“J.D., that’s my name, Candace.”
Candace laughed. “Touché. So, J.D.; what do you think of the house?”
“From the outside?” J.D. asked lightly. Candace nodded. “It’s beautiful.”
“But?”
“No but.”
Candace frowned playfully. “Ah, J.D. I’ve made a career out of my ability to read people. There is definitely a but.”
“It would be even grander without the modernization.”
“Which is why I called you,” Candace returned. “Would you like to see the inside?” she offered. Jameson nodded.
Candace spent the better part of the next hour ushering Jameson through her home. She explained the history of ownership and reveled in the attentiveness of the architect. Jameson remained quiet, listening to each detail and every anecdote with fascination. Candace watched Jameson’s eyes study each room methodically. It was clear that the architect was noting even the finest details. Jameson’s eyes seemed to twinkle when Candace would offer a short story about some historical moment in the home, or some treasured memory that had been passed down.
“So....this house has been in your family for a while,” Jameson commented as the senator led her toward the kitchen.
“Five generations, so yes. Can I offer you something?” Candace asked as they entered the kitchen. “Wine, coffee? Water?” she asked as she set about starting a pot of coffee. “I know; it’s late. It’s my addiction.”
“It’s never too late for coffee in my book,” Jameson replied. “I’d love a cup.”
“Well then, I suppose we have at least two things in common.”
“Two?” Jameson asked.
“We share a love of old houses, history, and coffee.”
“Three,” Jameson said.
“What?” Candace asked as she pulled the cream from the refrigerator.
“That’s three things we have in common; unless I counted wrong.”
“Ah, I suppose so. So, tell me, J.D.; I’ve seen your portfolio; you’ve designed some impressive buildings. Why an interest in this old place? And interior design?”
By Design Page 1
