“Like you always said, never buy what you can’t afford. No point getting into debt.” I’ve seen what it does to people. To Yun. To Ivan.
“So what’s the hang-up, Brinley Brin?”
Brinley wasn’t sure what to tell Dad about the purchase-on-a-whim. Well, just say it. “You know where Riley’s art gallery is on Mallery?”
“What about it?”
“Think one street over. Pelican Road.”
“I’ve heard of that area. Some vandalism over the summer.”
“Well, kids were out of school. Nothing better to do.”
“You think that’s it?”
“Yeah. I talked to some city council members. They think if we revitalize the area, it’ll bring up the property values.”
“So? What does that have to do with you?”
“I bought that warehouse in the corner.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did. When I bought my new house, I asked my agent to check into that property. The owner is desperate. Short sale. Half price.”
“Still a bad move. It’s over a hundred years old. I know you like old things, but that’s… You should’ve asked me, Brin, before you bought it.”
“I don’t have to ask you about everything, Dad. I think Brooks Reno can turn that entire block into a mix-used development.”
“Work and play? Like Seaside on the Gulf, or Avalon in Alpharetta?” Dad logged into his laptop to look at a map.
Brinley watched him check out the satellite images.
Dad didn’t look up. “Not a bad idea. Go on.”
“The property next door to the warehouse is now available.” Brinley pointed on Dad’s laptop screen. “Would you like to invest in it?”
“With the money you pay me for the rest of Brooks Reno?”
“We could preserve the history of the area. Restore it. Get rid of vandalism. Give kids a place to go in the summer. All at the same time.”
“A daughter after her dad’s own heart.” Dad laughed. “Tell me. How did you end up with the warehouse in the first place?”
Brinley wasn’t sure how to say it. It had begun with Johann Sebastian Bach, threaded through whale-watching and a view from the St. Simon’s Lighthouse. And what Ivan had said when he pointed out that warehouse from the crow’s nest.
Maybe someday I could rent space in that building for a music studio.
Ivan’s left wrist might have been damaged but he’d get it back, wouldn’t he? Even if he couldn’t play in concerts, he could still teach, or at least run a music studio. There had to be something he could do. Maybe even help musicians with injuries. Teach music to special needs students. Music therapy. It was endless what could be done.
Then again, nothing might come of it.
“It’s all my fault, Dad. I bought him the Strad. That’s why he was attacked.”
“We’re talking about Ivan McMillan?” Dad asked.
Brinley nodded.
“Helen Hu and the FBI are all over it. Don’t worry, Brin.”
“I shouldn’t have bought him the Strad.”
“Now you’re trying to make up for it by buying a run-down warehouse? I don’t see the connection.”
“Ivan dreamed of a music studio in that warehouse.”
“You bought it for him.”
“Well, to revitalize the city block.”
“No, Brin. To pay a penance for your sins. And if he never plays violin again? Wouldn’t that warehouse remind him of what he couldn’t have?”
Now Brinley didn’t say anything.
“Brinley Brin, look at me.” Dad scooted forward in his recliner. “You’re a believer now. When Jesus died on the cross He paid for all your sins. You cannot pay enough penance to make up for what you thought were errors in judgment or whatnot.”
“What do I do now, Dad?”
“You ask God to forgive you for what you thought was your mistake, and ask Him to make things right in His way and His timing. You can’t fix things yourself. You’re not God. Fixing things is God’s business, unless of course, He wants you to be part of the solution, such as if you had to make restitution. Then do it, but in God’s way, not yours, and only if you’re sure it’s what God wants you to do. Got it?”
“Clear as mud.”
“In other words, trust God, not yourself. Wait for God to show you the way. Don’t jump the gun.”
“Okay. Simple enough.”
“You remember the verse I gave you?”
“Proverbs 3:5-6?” The same one Brinley had jotted down on the bookmark she had given to Ivan for Christmas. Boy, was he surprised that was all she had given him though he might never know all the other things she had doing for him.
“Yes. ‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths,’” Dad recited from memory. “You never go wrong trusting God. Until you see the big picture, don’t make a judgment call.”
“You think I made a mistake buying the warehouse?”
“We don’t know yet, do we? Things are still unfolding. Until we see the end of the story we’re still right in the middle of it.” Dad paused. “Having said that, I love the mixed-used idea. All right. I’m in.”
“Thanks, Dad. I won’t let you down.” Brinley’s voice shook. “This retirement thing. Are you going to move to Paris, then?”
“We’ll shuttle between our chateau and the Sea Island cottage, yes.”
“How often will I see you and Mom?”
“As often as you want. We’ll be back on Sea Island every other month or so. If we’re over there in Europe somewhere, call and I’ll send the BBJ to pick you up.”
“You don’t have to, Dad. I’ll fly commercial.” Brinley felt better. “When do you leave for this trip?”
“In a couple of weeks. I might see Helen Hu. Say, why don’t you let me handle the Damaris hunt and you focus on Brooks Reno?”
“Why?”
“I need something to do. Maybe your mom and I can go on an adventure.”
“A treasure hunt?”
“We used to do that, you know. Hop, skip, jump all over Europe looking for antiquities.”
“Uh-huh. That’s how Dill came about.”
Dad cleared his throat. “Has it been thirty-five years ago?”
“All right, Dad. I’ll buy you out of Brooks Reno. You invest in Pelican Road. It’s a win-win.”
“Yep. I’ll take care of the Strad. You take care of your labor of love.”
Love?
Chapter Forty-Four
The moment Ivan saw the menu, he knew he would have a full stomach tonight. He glanced across the table. Brinley placed her menu down.
“Decided already?” Ivan asked.
“I’m not very hungry tonight. I’m going to have some salad.”
Ivan couldn’t read her face. Was she dissimulating? What did she mean by not being hungry? Salad was one of the cheapest items on the menu. Was she insulting him? Didn’t want him to pay too much for their first formal night out?
“You look nice this evening,” he said instead, straining a smile.
Brinley did dress well. On the drive here, Brinley had explained to him that her fabric was called a jacquard. The rose colors on her dress reminded him yet again of the Pleasant Days composition he should finish sometime.
For her.
“Thank you,” Brinley said quietly. “You look nice too. I like that cord jacket. Black looks good on you.”
“You sound a bit tired.”
“A little bit. I’m glad the transition is done though it took more than a month.” Brinley sipped water.
“How’s Brooks Renovations coming along?” Not that you have to do any work.
“I miss having Dad looking over my shoulder, but it’s nice to have veto power.”
“I suppose there’s a lot of work to buy, fix, and sell houses.”
“Or rent them out. Yep.” Brinley nodded. “I’m not working alone, to
be sure. I thank God for a good crew.”
“It still sounds harder than playing music.”
“You think so?”
“Yep. I’m not much into construction and renovations.”
“I agree.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ivan folded his arms.
“Well, you let your house fall apart—oh, I didn’t mean to bring that up.”
“No, let’s.” Ivan liked a challenge. “I was going to fix things. You stepped in front of me.”
Brinley leaned forward. “Are we fighting? Is this our first fight?”
“Actually, no. This is our second fight. The first one was over the subterranean termites, remember?”
Brinley smiled. “Well, considering the termites had been eating your porch posts, I think they were no longer subterranean.”
“No worries, Brin. Now they’re no longer anywhere.”
The server came to take their orders without a notepad. It amazed Ivan. I mean, is he going to remember everything we’re ordering? Even some fast food places use an iPad to take orders.
Ivan decided to go for one of the most expensive items on the menu, some sort of lobster and scallops combo, and a couple of extra sides. And soup to boot. He ordered dessert while he was at it. If there was anything left over, he could take them home for a midnight snack. He roughly calculated the cost. As long as he stayed within two hundred dollars it should be fine.
Brinley pointed to the wash of sunset in the sky. “Some view.”
“We should’ve timed it better. We could have gone upstairs to see the sunset before we were seated. Next time I’ll make a later reservation.”
“It’s all right, Ivan.” She had a glow about her in the late afternoon light of the Atlantic. The sun was setting on the other side of the restaurant, but the pastel colors spread over the sky, darkening bit by bit as they sat there looking out.
“My friend Sebastian said he had to pay a premium price for this view,” Ivan said.
“I bet. It’s nice that he’ll make it all back with his James Beard Award.”
“Yeah. Youngest chef in the southeast. A lot of pressure there.” Ivan wondered whether Sebastian Langston was working tonight. If he was, maybe Ivan could introduce Brinley to him.
It kind of made Ivan feel important to rub shoulders with titled people. The James Beard chef-owner of Saffron, for instance.
“Pressure can be tough. I know that from having been in sales,” Brinley offered. “Then again, he should be able to handle it, right, since he has God?”
It seemed like an innocent newbie Christian question, so Ivan tried to answer it. “Sometimes it feels hard going through the pressure, but if we keep in mind that God is always with us, He makes it more bearable.”
“But we still have to go through it sometimes.”
“More often than not.” Ivan stared into the distance.
Outside the cantilevered dining room, beyond the wintering sea oats, the sands of Jekyll Island stretched toward the Atlantic Ocean. The sea and sky and God’s creation carried on, oblivious to his dilemma. Dusk was setting in, but tomorrow, another day would cycle in.
Ah, try to think of something pleasant.
“We should come out here and have breakfast on the rooftop balcony someday.”
“Or we could walk on the beach to see the sunrise for free.”
Free? Ivan knotted his eyebrows. “Why do you say that?”
“A lot of things in life don’t cost money. You know that. God’s love is free, for example. His salvation is free. His creation here is also free.”
“Don’t turn philosophical on me, Brin.”
“Sorry.”
“No need to apologize. I would love to walk on the beach at sunrise with you.” Every day for the rest of my life.
Ivan reached for his soda to regroup his emotions.
“That was a lot of stuff you ordered,” Brinley said. “You must be famished.”
“I ate lunch, if you must know. This is a feast to celebrate us.” He reached across the table with his right hand and held Brinley’s left.
Someday I’ll put a ring on that finger. “I can’t stop thinking of you.”
“I hope—never mind.”
“What, Brin?”
“Bad timing.”
“Say it.”
“Well, okay. Was going to say that I hope you think of God more.”
“Of course I do.” Ivan frowned. He was irritated at this new Brinley.
Pious. Questioning his every move.
Can’t a man just enjoy the evening without being reminded of anything serious?
“Sorry. I’m learning to be thankful for everything God has given me, for life, salvation, my family, you.”
“Good to know.” Ivan rubbed the back of Brinley’s hand gently. She had such smooth skin. No scars anywhere that he could see. “I’m surprised at how soft your hand is considering you do house renovations.”
“I don’t do them myself most of the time. I have Toby to do all the work for me.”
“Toby?”
“Tobias Vega. He’s my GC—general contractor.” Brinley chuckled. “He hates me now. He’s having a hard time getting along with my interior designer.”
“If they don’t get along, why put them together?”
“They have to get along. They’re the best people I have. I’m sure they’ll figure it out. I want to move into my new house ASAP.”
Ivan sat back as the soup came. Brinley had opted to have her salad served at the same time as Ivan’s main course. They said a blessing for the food and then Brinley told Ivan not to wait for the soup to get cold.
“Want some of this?” Ivan’s spoon was in midair across the table. Hope this isn’t breaching any table manners.
Brinley leaned forward over the small table and sipped. “That’s pretty good.”
“More?” Ivan asked, somehow remembering the cookie pieces that Brinley had fed him in his basement not long ago.
“No, thanks.” Brinley dabbed her lips.
“Maybe you can show me your new house,” Ivan asked in between spoonfuls of delicious soup.
“Yes, as soon as it looks like a real house inside. It’s sort of partly gutted right now. If you want to see what a war zone looks like, we can see it as it is.”
“No hurry. I’d like to see it when it’s done, though. I’m visual that way.”
Their main courses came and then it was all about eating as Ivan made a big show of eating his lobster sans shell, like he was swallowing gold foil, which incidentally was sitting on top of the intricately plated dish. He decided to save the gold foil to remember this evening by. No need to mess up his digestive system.
“Don’t make me choke, Ivan.” Brinley was trying to hold it all in as she munched through her beef steak salad.
When Ivan saw the dessert he offered part of it to Brinley. “I didn’t say half, okay? I said part.”
They ate the whole dessert with nothing to spare.
“I’m going to pop this dress,” Brinley whispered.
“Next time wear a stretchable one.”
“Good idea.”
When the guest check came, Ivan nearly fell off the chair onto the shiny, polished floor. Even the speck of dirt he spotted on the floor by the table where the server had passed must’ve been expensive.
The numbers were unmistakable. They were three figures long and twice as much as he had expected to fork out tonight on the new credit card. He had been using that credit card to pay his bills for this month. He was sure there was a couple of hundred dollars left on there, enough for this meal and the tips.
Maybe he shouldn’t have ordered that lobster dish. He couldn’t return the gold foil now. Who put gold foil on dishes, anyway?
Maybe it’ll just go through.
I’ll deal with the overdrawn charge tomorrow.
Maybe he could call his friend, Sebastian, and get an IOU. Ivan retrieved his disposable phone and texted Sebastian.
No immediate reply.
He peeked into his old wallet with black duct tape at the bottom. He kept that part away from Brinley so she couldn’t see that there was a rip in the wallet that he had repaired some months before. There were no other credit cards he could use. They were all maxed out. As for his debit card, forget about it. Nothing there.
He was quite sure that he was short. Not sure by how much since he hadn’t worked on his finances in a few days. He had thought he had set aside a couple of hundred dollars for this dinner. Only now the bill said he owed Saffron over three hundred dollars, not including tips. A bowl of soup, salad, two main dishes, two extra side dishes, one dessert, soda, water, taxes. That was all. He peered at the check again.
Oh, my gold foil lobster thingy was $265.
Not $26.50.
Yikes.
Well, he’d never been to a restaurant where they didn’t put dollar signs in front of the prices nor decimal points at the end of them. He had assumed—
The bill shook in Ivan’s hand.
He started to panic.
* * *
“Are you okay?” Brinley asked.
Across the table, Ivan was sweating.
“Fine. Fine.” He tugged at his neckline. His tie skewed sideways. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say that his right hand—his good hand—was shaking holding that guest check.
Brinley watched him place what looked like a brand new unscratched credit card into the guest check folder. The server came and took it away.
Ivan checked his disposable smart phone again.
“Expecting a call?” Brinley wondered who he had texted earlier.
“Uh, my friend Sebastian. Maybe he’ll come out here to meet you.”
“That’ll be nice.”
Then he pushed back his chair. It creaked. Several other customers glanced his way. “I’ll be right back.”
He was gone a long time.
Brinley finished her mineral water. The server was back before Ivan returned. He refused to put the check down.
“May I see it?” Brinley asked.
“I’m afraid I need to speak with the gentleman.”
“He’s probably in the men’s room. Anything I can convey to him when he gets back?”
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