By Design

by J. A. Armstrong

  Candace nodded her affirmation. She walked with Jameson to the front door. “What are your plans for Thanksgiving?” Candace asked curiously. “All this talk about my house and my family; I haven’t even asked you.”

  “Same as every year,” Jameson answered. “I’ll head down to my folks’ for the weekend.” She was surprised to detect a hint of disappointment in the senator’s eyes. “You?” she asked.

  “Oh, well, Michelle and Jonah will be here tomorrow night,” Candace explained. “Spencer, my grandson, he’s still small so Marianne won’t come up this year. I’ll see them in Texas next month.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Six months,” Candace beamed.

  Jameson smiled. “Nothing quite like a baby; is there?”

  “Not really, but I did my time in that realm. I’m happy to be Nana and not Mom this round.”

  “I think I can understand that.”

  “Travel safely,” Candace said.

  “You worried about me; Senator Fletcher?”

  Candace was surprised at the answer that flew from her lips. “Let’s just say I would like to see you again.”

  Jameson instinctively knew the required response. She leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on Candace’s cheek. “I will be sure to obey all the rules of the road,” she promised. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

  Candace just nodded as Jameson walked to her car. She watched Jameson pull away and closed the door slowly, feeling an unexplainable sense of loss. “Wine,” she mumbled. “I think I’ll have another glass of wine.”

  Chapter Five: Give it Time

  “You’ve been quiet all weekend,” Jameson’s mother observed.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Maureen Reid took a seat next to her daughter at the kitchen table. “J.D.?”

  “What?”

  “Everything okay with the firm?” Maureen asked.

  “Yeah; why?”

  “Why? Clearly, something has you preoccupied. New project?”

  Jameson chuckled uncomfortably. “You could say that.” Maureen implored her daughter with her eyes. Jameson groaned. “It’s not exactly the project that’s the problem.”

  “Difficult client?” her mother inquired.

  “No,” Jameson answered. “I don’t think I’d call Candace difficult. Puzzling, maybe; difficult no.”

  “Candace, huh? Would I be right in guessing this is someone you are interested in?”

  Jameson took a deep breath and held it for a few moments before releasing it. “She is definitely interesting,” Jameson answered with a smirk.

  “So? Engineer?” Maureen guessed.

  “What?”

  “Well, you usually are working with engineers. Is she an engineer?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “J.D.?”

  Jameson sighed heavily. “Senator.”

  “I don’t think I follow.”

  “She’s a senator.”

  “Oooo….moving on up, J.D.! She spends a lot of time in Albany then?”

  “No, Washington,” Jameson deadpanned.

  “Washington County?”

  “Washington D.C.,” Jameson returned.

  Maureen was puzzled for a moment until the realization hit her. “J.D.?” she questioned. Jameson offered her mother a lopsided grin. “Are you telling me you are seeing Candace Fletcher?”

  “Seeing? Yes. Dating? No.”

  Maureen regarded her daughter suspiciously. “Explain.” Before Jameson could speak, her mother continued. “How on earth do you know Candace Fletcher?” she asked. Jameson was about to answer the question when her mother got up from her seat, wandered toward the sink, and then continued. “What’s she like? I’ll bet she’s fascinating. Is she friendly? I’ll bet she is demanding….does…”

  “Mom!” Jameson stopped her mother’s ramblings. Maureen snapped to attention, and Jameson snickered at her mother’s excitement. “Thank you,” Jameson said. She rubbed her forehead in thought and sighed. “I’m working on her house. Designing an addition and planning a historically relevant remodel,” she said. “That’s how I know her.”

  “How did you…”

  “Steve, Mom. Remember Steven Russo?” she asked.

  “Yes…”

  Jameson laughed. “Steven Russo, Mom; he married Dana.”

  “Yes?”

  Jameson laughed again. “Dana Marelli,” Jameson said. She rolled her eyes at her mother’s confusion. “Now she is Dana Russo,” she said. She waited for her mother to catch up. “She’s Senator Fletcher’s press secretary.” Maureen nodded but still was not completely following her daughter’s train of thought. “That’s how I met Candace. She’s been thinking about this remodel for a number of years. Steven and Dana gave her my name,” Jameson explained.

  “Oh. So, you are working on her house?”

  “Yes.”

  “You are not dating her?”

  “No.”

  Maureen studied her daughter’s expression. “But?” she asked. Jameson shifted uncomfortably. Maureen nodded and sat back down. “What does she think about this?” she wondered. Jameson just stared at her hands as they rested on the table. “She doesn’t know?”

  “That I am working on her house?” Jameson tried to be funny. “Of course, she knows.”

  “Very funny. J.D. She doesn’t know that you are interested in her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know if you are interested in her?” Maureen asked.

  “No,” Jameson answered quietly.

  “No; you don’t know…or no; she doesn’t know? Help me out here.”

  Jameson intertwined her fingers nervously. “I don’t know…I don’t know if she knows that I am interested in her,” Jameson finally managed.

  “I see,” Maureen replied. She gave Jameson a moment to explain before continuing. “Jameson,” she called across the table. Jameson looked up. “This isn’t a passing fancy; is it?” Jameson’s reflective smile was the only answer her mother needed. “Are you in love with her?”

  “I don’t know her well enough to say that,” Jameson said honestly.

  “No?”

  “No. I like her.”

  Maureen shook her head. “So, you would like to…what? Take her to the movies?” she asked with a giggle.

  “Mom!”

  “Oh, please, J.D.! I wish you could see the look on your face. You look like a lost little puppy,” she said.

  “I do not.”

  “Yes, you do. It’s actually quite adorable.”

  “Mom, come on. This is not funny. She’s a client and I….”

  “And, you what? Jameson Reid,” her mother said seriously. “I gave birth to you. I’ve seen you survive every crush and every crushed heart. I have not once seen that look in your eyes.”

  “What look?” Jameson asked.

  Maureen took her daughter’s hands. “You think love has a timetable?”

  “I think love takes time.”

  “Relationships take time, J.D.,” her mother answered. “Love happens in an instant.” Jameson hung her head and swallowed hard. “What are you so afraid of?”

  “I don’t know,” Jameson answered truthfully. “I never worried about someone…I mean about what might….”

  “You’ve never been in love before,” her mother said plainly. “Give it some time.”

  “You just said there is no timetable,” Jameson reminded her mother.

  “And, you just admitted you’re at the very least, falling in love her without even knowing it,” Maureen said. Jameson shook her head. “I also said that relationships take time. So, give her some. Give yourself some.”

  “What if she doesn’t…”

  “Then you will cry the tears you need to cry and pick yourself up,” Maureen told Jameson. “But, I’m not convinced that is what has you the most worried.”

  “What do you mean?” Jameson asked.

  “I think you know,” her mother said. “You’ve waited a long tim
e to even consider wanting a relationship with someone. Maybe you had just resigned yourself to the idea that you never would.”

  “I’ve had relationships.”

  “You know what I mean. Two months of weekend wantonness and a few romps in the backseat of your old Mustang in high school are not what I was referring to,” her mother said.

  Jameson laughed and then grew serious. “She’s out of my league.”

  “Hardly.” Jameson looked up to a pair of motherly eyes that shone with pride. “She’d be lucky to have you; any woman would.”

  “You’re bias.”

  “No, I’m not. But, if she’s the one who has finally captured your heart….Well, I’d imagine she must be an extraordinary woman,” Maureen observed.

  “She is,” Jameson said.

  Maureen put her hand on her daughter’s cheek and smiled. “Take your time, J.D.” She pulled out her chair and reached her feet, stopping to place a kiss on Jameson’s head. “And, I wouldn’t be in a hurry to tell your father.”

  Jameson was confused. Her father had never had an issue with her sexuality or any of the girlfriends she had brought home. She combed her thoughts for the reason behind her mother’s statement. “Why?” she asked. “You think he will have an issue with the age difference?”

  Maureen laughed. “Nope, I think he’ll have an issue with the Democrat,” she winked.

  Jameson laughed. “He married you,” she pointed out.

  “Ah, yes; he did,” Maureen agreed. “And, I have never let him live it down,” she winked. Jameson nodded. “Imagine another Democrat at the dinner table. One that has opinions; I mean.”

  Jameson laughed. “I don’t think you need to worry,” she said.

  “Don’t be so sure,” Maureen told her daughter. “Stranger things have happened.”

  “You mean like Dad falling in love with you?”

  “Nah, who wouldn’t love me?” Maureen gloated. “But, I fell in love with him. I’d lay odds you can catch Senator Fletcher.”

  “I guess time will tell,” Jameson mumbled.

  Maureen made her way out of the kitchen and stopped for a moment to look back at her daughter. She just smiled. “Guess I know who we’ll be voting for in the next election,” she mused.

  ***

  “Mom?” Michelle called to Candace.

  “Hum?”

  “You know Marianne doesn’t mean to be such a…”

  “Bitch?” Candace finished her daughter’s statement. Michelle sniggered. “Yes, I know.”

  “She just wishes we were all closer, I think,” Michelle offered. Candace just smiled. Michelle was the typical middle child. She had always been the peacemaker. They had just returned from taking Jonah to the airport for his flight home. Candace had enjoyed the weekend with her two younger children; although they were no longer children. Pearl had joined them on Saturday afternoon for a late lunch and some old movies. They had all agreed to an internet chat with Marianne in the late afternoon that day. It had started out well. The kids were catching up and cooing over little Spencer. Then it turned ugly.

  Pearl mentioned the remodel of the house and she and Candace began to talk about Jameson and her plans. Marianne’s reaction was less than accommodating, and far below interested. She had scolded her mother that it was a waste of time and money. None of the children wanted to live in that house. Why on earth was she so adamant about investing in something like an old house? After all, Candace was in Washington the majority of the year. And, Marianne wondered what kind of accomplished architect would accept such a project. Candace had grown used to Marianne’s harsh criticisms regarding her choice of living arrangements, and her desire to continue working until such time as she deemed retirement was necessary or wanted. Candace did not appreciate her daughter’s freely given assessments about her life, but it was not a battle she felt was worthy of her energy. She had no intention of changing her home, nor any inclination to change her career. Sooner or later, she was positive Marianne would give up the ghost and learn to live with it all. Marianne’s comments and unsolicited assumptions about Jameson had touched a nerve in Candace. No one anticipated Candace’s reaction.

  “An architect? Mother, are you sure this woman is an architect and not some scam artist?”

  Candace held her temper in check. “I do know how to check references, Marianne.”

  “Yes, well; you also give everyone the benefit of the doubt.”

  “She’s a good friend of Dana and Steve’s; if you must know. And, she is quite accomplished,” Candace said. She mentally pictured Jameson and smiled.

  “Why on earth would a successful person such as you have described want to wander around some old house in the boonies? Are you sure she isn’t after something else?”

  Pearl was watching Candace from across the room and immediately caught the senator’s change in expression. “Uh oh,” she whispered to Michelle.

  “And, just what do you think she might be after?” Candace asked her daughter.

  “Mother, please. You are a powerful, wealthy woman. How is it that someone as educated and intelligent as you are, cannot see the handwriting on the wall?”

  “I see all the writing very clearly, Marianne. Perhaps, you are reading in a different language than me.”

  “I am simply trying to protect you.”

  Candace took a deep breath and steadied herself. She prided herself on maintaining control when arguments arose. She had always guided her children with a firm yet gentle hand. Few times in the past had Candace ever raised her voice to one of her children, even when she had been furious about one of their actions or decisions. Marianne had just entered treacherous waters with her mother. Candace was about to tell her daughter to tread lightly.

  “I appreciate your concern. I am more than capable of judging a person’s character and motives for myself,” Candace said.

  “Oh, like Jessica?”

  “Jameson is not Jessica,” Candace answered harshly.

  “Because you are not sleeping with her? Or, are you? There is more than one way to cheat, Mother.”

  Pearl put her face in her hands and braced herself for the response she anticipated. Michelle and Jonah looked at the older woman and then to their mother. “My life is just that, Marianne; my life. I certainly do not need your guidance on dishonesty.”

  “Quick to defend this woman; aren’t you?”

  “Jameson does not need me to defend her,” Candace said. She watched the screen in front of her and recognized her daughter’s mounting protest. She effectively ended it before it could begin. “She doesn’t need me to, but she certainly deserves at least that much from me.” Candace saw Marianne bristle and heard her begin to speak. She held up a finger in warning. “You are entitled to whatever opinions you wish about my life, my home, and my career. It’s a free country. I should know. I will thank you to keep your uninformed and rude judgments about the people in my life to yourself. I raised you better than that.”

  “I am simply…”

  “I am simply telling you that this conversation is over,” Candace said sternly.

  “Mother…”

  “I’ll give you to your sister,” Candace said. “Kiss Spencer for me.”

  “Mother, this woman could be…”

  “Marianne!” Candace finally yelled. “I have had enough. Jameson has done nothing to warrant your scrutiny and skepticism. Now, enjoy the rest of your weekend. I will talk you to you next week.” Candace got up from her seat. “Michelle,” she called over to her younger daughter. Michelle looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “You and Jonah come and visit with your sister.” She forced a small smile and headed toward the kitchen.

  Pearl followed a few moments later and found Candace holding onto the sink to steady the shaking in her body. “Candy,” she said gently.

  “She has no right to attack Jameson,” Candace said angrily.

  “No, she doesn’t.”

  Michelle had noted the uncharacteristic tremblin
g in her mother’s hands as she left the room. She left Jonah to chat with Marianne, making the excuse that she needed to use the bathroom quickly so that she could check on her mother. The sound of voices stopped her just shy of her destination. She lingered outside the kitchen, listening to the two women who had instructed her the most in life.

  “Candy?” Pearl called again. “You know; you are right, Jameson is not Jessica.”

  “I know.”

  “I hope you do know.”

  Candace turned to Pearl. Pearl wiped a tear from the corner of Candace’s eye. “Give it time, my love. Give it some time.”

  “She could be my daughter.”

  “And, you could be mine,” Pearl said with a wink.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I do know what you mean. She’ll keep you on your toes,” Pearl chuckled.

  Candace smiled. “I don’t think she sees me…”

  “Oh, love; she sees you.”

  “You know what I mean,” Candace said.

  “Yes, I do. Maybe it’s you who is afraid to see her,” Pearl suggested. Candace sighed. “Give it time, Candy,” she said. She kissed the senator’s forehead as Candy began to cry and wrapped the woman in her motherly embrace. “Life is strange sometimes. It tends to take us where we need to go, if we let it, that is,” she comforted the woman in her arms. “I love you, Candy.”

  “I love you too Mama Pearl.”

  “I know you do, so trust me.”

  Michelle stood completely still as the conversation beyond the wall turned silent. She’d only heard her mother cry a few times in her life, and she’d never heard her mother refer to Pearl as Mama before. She wondered who this Jameson person was that she could have affected her mother so deeply. “Oh, Marianne; I think you are in for a surprise.”

  Michelle looked back at her mother and took a deep breath for courage. She didn’t want her mother to think that she had been deliberately eavesdropping on a private conversation. She had intended to check on her mother, but the tender exchange between the two women she loved most in her life had stopped her in her tracks. Something in Pearl’s words to her mother had struck a chord within Michelle. She felt the need to reach out somehow. “I’m sorry, Mom,” she said.