Putty in Her Hands

by Lynn Shurr

  “Before we begin, refill your glasses. I propose a toast in honor of this magnificent room.” Marv expanded his arms wide to include the shining pine floor and the oriental rug that cushioned a mahogany table ringed by six chairs. Crystal, fine china, and sterling silver adorned its top. “You are the first to dine here, a reward for your hard work. May the Queen turn out as well.”

  “Here, here!” Sammy downed his wine.

  “It will turn out just as well, perhaps better,” Julia assured Marv.

  “Enjoy,” he replied.

  No one attacked the meal. Sal held up an odd knife, broad with a pick at the tip. “What’s this for?”

  “Oh, your fish knife. Mr. Getty has an extensive collection of Victorian silver. I thought it would fun to use some of it for this occasion. Use flat of the knife to separate the skin from the fish, then flake some off on your fish fork, which is next to your dinner fork. Use the tip to pick out any bones.”

  “Right,” Sammy said, but basically sat there clutching the fish knife and waiting for someone else to begin. Finally, Julia took the plunge, managing fairly well. Remy proceeded as if he’d handled arcane Victorian flatware all his life. Maybe he had considering his southern aristocratic mother and his social-climbing granny. The thought made Julia a tad uncomfortable no matter what he said about his lowly origins. The rest did the best they could, and truly no one cared.

  Marv ended the meal by bringing out coffee and warm bread pudding swimming in whiskey sauce. They lingered in the lovely setting, mostly talking about the progress at Alleman and plans for the Queen. Full darkness arrived and the question of where Julia planned to spend the night hung in the air like the gibbous moon outside.

  Remy suggested it was time he left and looked at Julia pointedly as did all the other men. “I’ll walk you to your truck,” she said.

  “More coffee, brandy?” Marv offered to relieve the tension. Three heads shook to reject the offer.

  Julia rose, the men with her, and took Remy’s arm, guided him out to the front portico and down the path to his vehicle. The others clustered beneath the hanging lantern that illuminated the porch. She moved to the far side of the truck for privacy.

  “Why don’t you pack and come with me tonight?” Remy crowded her against the side panel and pressed against her body.

  Julia smiled in the light of the more than half full moon. “Not until we have a signed contract.”

  “How long will that be?”

  “A few days. You’ll want to look over it carefully before putting your name on the agreement.”

  “I trust you.”

  “As Todd almost said, we shouldn’t mix business with pleasure.”

  “We were having a moment here. Why bring him into it?”

  “Because he’s right. It won’t be long, Remy. It won’t be six weeks.”

  He initiated a kiss meant to change her mind. It did not. She trusted Remy, but his family not so much.

  Chapter Thirty

  Four fuckin’ weeks, or rather four non-fuckin’ weeks to get that contract signed. Remy rarely used the F-word. He considered it crude, along with screwing, porking—you name it. He had sex with some, made love to others, depending on the woman. In Julia’s case, he always called it making love.

  The initial contract arrived in two weeks. Todd, put in charge of arranging all of Julia’s notes and checking her estimates, claimed the computer lost the file, and he’d had a terrible time restoring it. Ha, restoring! Once Remy did get hold of it, he read every work and requested some minor changes to show Julia an attention to detail and lack of haste that nearly killed him. Then, off the document went to Jonathan Hartz who made further changes before it returned to Julia for revamping. This time, the printer broke down. Remy snatched the papers and placed them personally in the hands of the efficient Mrs. Landy at Hartz Technology for duplication. Suspecting sabotage by Todd, he asked for extras.

  In the meantime, Regal Restorations finished at Alleman. Mr. Getty appeared in a white linen suit and a Panama hat covering the pink, bald spot in his scalp—channeling Truman Capote—to sign off on the punch list. So pleased, he gave the company a bonus and immediately hung his abstract art abundantly on Julia’s pristine hallway walls until not a bit of plaster showed. He also offered her a room to stay until she moved on to her next job, damn him.

  As for Hartz, he wanted to make an occasion of the signing and put his wife and Mrs. Landry in charge of issuing invitations, ordering champagne, and hiring a caterer for the event to take place in the grand lobby of Hartz Technology. Yes, Pommier’s could make a cake that sort of resembled the Queen, but it would take some time.

  Time! It passed too slowly before the press photographed himself, Hartz, and Julia placing their signatures on the document. She copiously thanked the Live Oak Preservation Society and the Historic District Committee, plus naming the politicians who had spoken in favor of the project, always great for future goodwill. Taking the high road, Patty Broussard had been invited and lauded for her efforts. Remy’s grandmother seethed to one side of the dais hoping to get her picture taken, which no amount of rancor for Julia would prevent. Finally, she photo-bombed the group by squeezing between Remy and Hartz and shoving Julia nearly out of the frame.

  Jane Tauzin, who had hyped the event to the far borders of the state and assured the attendance of the press way beyond Chapelle, ended the formal part of the program by announcing that two of the original ballroom chandeliers had been discovered in storage, once purchased to adorn another hotel, and packed away when that establishment also failed. The owner offered to donate them, turning the pair over to Regal Restorations for duplication. A round of applause released the crowd for free eats and fairly decent champagne, mimosas or coffee if preferred.

  Still, Remy waited as Julia circulated to each group of well-wishers, and he evaded his grandmother’s clutches. Finally, the last shrimp had been dunked in cocktail sauce, and chicken salad sandwiches found their way onto paper plates covered by napkins to take home, along with slices of white cake, raspberry-filled, from the replica leaving only the plastic pillars behind as if it were a Civil War ruin. Remy swore to himself that he’d take Julia home tonight whether she’d packed or not.

  Sammy approached and slung a heavy arm around his shoulders. “You should look happier. This is a big day, a very big day. Me and Sal are going to see the old ladies back to their place. Miss Lolly and Miss Maxie hit the booze a little too much. I’ll drive their car, and Sal will follow in our truck. We’ll move the RV over to the Queen right after we get them settled.”

  “What about Julia?”

  “I put her bags in the back of your truck.”

  “Really?” News too good to be true.

  “Honest to God.” Sam crossed himself for emphasis. “You take good care of her now. She thinks she doesn’t need it, but all women do. Just my opinion, for what it’s worth.” Sammy moved off after issuing a hearty backslap.

  Sal stood by the exit supporting Lolly and Maxie on either arm. Miss Lolly proclaimed rather loudly, “Yes, we knew the mimosas contained champagne. That’s why we were drinking them!”

  “Besides, the orange juice is good for our old bones,” Miss Maxie added.

  Sal had a pretty glum face considering the landing of a huge contract. Not as on board about letting go of his niece, Remy suspected. Where was she, anyhow?

  Julia came up behind him and laid a hand on his arm. His reaction nearly knocked a huge cornerstone of the cake from the plate in her other hand. “Time to go to my place, Jules. A deal is a deal. Your uncles put your bags in my truck.”

  Julia moved her hand to touch that short beard he’d kept because she seemed to enjoy stroking it so much. “I love when you go all assertive on me, but who do you think asked them to do that?” Without turning, she said, “Todd, drive my truck over to the Queen or use it however you want. Take the afternoon off. Tomorrow the real work begins.”

  Her intern appeared like her shadow in sunsh
ine, a minion toting a large box of leftovers. “You want this stuff in the truck too?” Surly, Remy thought.

  “No, that’s for you and my uncles. The motorhome will be on site shortly. You can stow it there. Enjoy some free time.” She handed over the keys.

  “If you say so.” One unhappy man, Todd shambled away.

  Outside the air-conditioned haven, heat radiated off the parking lot hot enough to melt the icing on the cake as Julia and Remy crossed to his vehicle and got inside. He turned the A/C on high, needing to cool off in more ways than one.

  Happy and relaxed, Julia leaned her head against the rest and stretched out her legs. “My slate man will be on the roof tomorrow, and we’ll start washing the building.”

  That’s what she wanted to talk about, the project? “Hey, we also have the afternoon off. No talking shop.”

  “Fine with me, but I have to let you know every day won’t be like this. When I’m on a job, I return home dusty, sweaty, and often dead tired. I want to sink into a hot tub and wash it all away before ordering takeout.”

  “I’ll be right there with you.”

  “On the job?”

  “Yep, and in that tub. Mine is big enough for two.” He couldn’t suppress the grin that spread across his face.

  “Well, all right then.” She said little else, just studied the countryside slipping by, pondering something judging by the crease above her eyes.

  “Your thoughts?”

  “This is a big step we’re taking.”

  “A giant step.”

  “What if…”

  “No what ifs today.” He steered the truck through his gateway and parked it by the door. “You get to eat any of that cake today?”

  “No, too busy socializing. How about you?”

  “I stayed away from the cake table since my grandmother pushed the caterer aside to do the cutting. That way, everyone had to come to her. Think that chunk is safe to eat?”

  “Yes, Celine put it aside for us before Patty took over. I believe we deserve dessert right now.”

  Naked, they ate it on the black satin bedspread, rolled in the crumbs, and used gobs of frosting creatively before making love in the afternoon, all afternoon. Afterward, they shared the tub, cleaning areas where no crumb had wandered, facing each other, Julia on his lap impaled upon his fierce erection. She threw back her wet curls and pumped with strong thighs. He ran his hands over her firm breasts slick with soap, under her arms, and around her back to lend an assist to her motion. Water sloshed over the edges of the tub and grew cold before they finished. Julia rested against his chest.

  “Totally worth that four-week wait.”

  She nodded without raising her head and murmured, “Maybe all for the best, a real celebration.”

  “No, I’m not buying that. Jules, every time I’m with you it gets better and better.”

  “Won’t always. You know we have to clean up this mess in the bathroom, and that bedspread really, really needs dry cleaning.”

  “I’ll drop it off on my way to work.”

  “Good, because I’ll be on the site by six a.m. before they open.”

  Remy groaned and not in a sexual way. “If that’s the way it’s got to be. Right now, I’m ordering Chinese takeout. Might as well get into the routine.”

  “I can’t wait to get started.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Gratifying to watch the clumps of moss, a rain of brown oak leaves, and other grunge sluice off the slates. Some of the crew watched in the attic of the Queen for water leaking through. Outside, Remy and Julia stood while the mildew and grime and the ugly graffiti washed from the walls and the fluted pillars of the portico leaving behind a rather weathered gray surface she couldn’t wait to restore. Her roofer noted very few holes, some cracked slates, some blown away in storms. At least, the previous owners had kept the covering over their heads in decent condition. The man brought along a supply of material to match samples sent by Julia who’d harvested them from the site. Once the sun dried the tiles, his guys would be up on top repairing the worst of damage.

  Striding around in her hardhat, jeans, and Regal Restorations shirt, Julia called to Todd to follow her on an inspection of the exterior walls, marking spots needing repair. In some cases, just minor cracks, while in other places the bare bones of bricks showed through. They made notes and marked the areas requiring their attention. That done, she went inside and bounded up the staircase to the ballroom and her true love—that coffered ceiling. The scaffolding her uncles set to reach up to the sixteen-foot vault stood sturdy and ready to bear her weight. She scrambled agilely to the top and waved to Remy far below.

  “Attach your lifeline,” he ordered.

  “Will do, but I’ve never fallen on any of my jobs.”

  “I can think of a dozen platitudes right now. Always a first time. Better safe than sorry.”

  “I’ll be right here with her,” Todd said. “Don’t you have other business to attend to—or are you only for decoration?”

  “Todd! Stop sniping and get to work cleaning the walls so we can do an assessment in here.” Julia’s voice echoed in the vastness of the ballroom.

  “Sorry if my work is less glamorous, Todd. I have extra portable toilets arriving this morning to accommodate more workers.” He cocked his head back to address Julia. “One of them is marked Ladies especially for you.”

  Julia’s laughter bounced off the walls. “That’s sweet, but believe it or not, I’ve peed in the same hole as men plenty of times. Yes, you are messy pigs who can’t hit the mark, but I can live with it.”

  “Won’t have to this time. I’ll be back later with lunch.” Without a glance at Todd, Remy left to attend to his own duties, far more complicated than traveling outhouses.

  Julia went about her business, shining her flashlight on each coffer, choosing the ones in best condition, clearing the cobwebs and dust with a soft brush, getting them ready to make the molds for replacements. She mapped out the repairs needed for each one on a grid, climbing down to help Todd move the platform and lock it into place again as she progressed. He sent up tools in a bucket if she needed extras and retrieved any that fell to the covered parquet floor, a mistake she rarely made.

  Sweaty and grimy, she clambered down the scaffolding at noon when Remy appeared holding up a large Subway bag. “Roast beef for me, chicken for you, and cheese with extra veggies for Todd,” he listed.

  “Did you get something for my uncles?”

  “Sure, twelve-inch meatballs, what else? Also, chips, drinks, and a packet of apples for Todd.”

  “Good job. Let’s go outside and sit in the shade where it’s less stifling.”

  “Yeah, opening those old windows didn’t help much. I want to get the electrical contractor here as soon as possible to pull new wiring, maybe hook up some fans soon.”

  They left the building and made themselves comfortable—or as comfortable as one could be in ninety-degree heat and eighty percent humidity—under one of the oaks after washing up at the tap. Remy tossed Todd his sandwich, apples, and a bottle of water. The younger man unwrapped his meal.

  “What do you say, Todd?” Julia prompted, much as a mother would have a child.

  “Thanks. You’re a great gofer, Rem.” Her intern showed no shame for the remark.

  Julia stood up to give herself a superior position to the seated Todd. “I’ve had enough of this! Remy is acting as both architect and general contractor on this job. He’s my boss, and I’m yours. You’ll treat both of us with respect.”

  “I’ve always had respect for you, Julia. It’s him…”

  “No. You’ve reached a point where you are somewhat useful to Regal Restorations, and we’d like to keep you on, but anymore of this attitude, and you’re gone.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Todd buried his burning face in the sub.

  Julia noticed Remy’s smile at the use of the local idiom. Todd was catching on in more ways than one. Remy let her handle to the situation, and she apprecia
ted that. She appreciated him more at the end of the day when he encouraged her to soak in his luxury bath. He took a quick shower before slipping in behind her, rubbing her sore shoulders and massaging her scalp as she washed her hair. If his erection did pop up suggestively between her legs, Remy didn’t press the matter. At one point, she drifted off to sleep lounging against his chest and woke to find herself swathed in one of his thick black towels and covered by the zebra hide while he reheated leftover Chinese food in the microwave. She did make it up to him later in the evening.

  It occurred to her that of the two of them, Remy was the romantic, the dreamer with his Black Diamonds project on hold while she had saved the Queen and lived to restore her. As soon as she could, she’d have to give some attention to more than his sexual needs.

  ****

  Except for the snide comments from Todd—and Julia had handled that well, preventing him from knocking the guy’s head against the rough bark of the oak to pound some respect into him—Remy considered the first day of the restoration project a success. He and the HVAC contractor traced the old air-conditioning ducts from the 1920s to see if they could be used for the new units to be sited next to the reconstructed kitchen and masked from the guests by shrubs. Perhaps, they might hide new ducts in the ballroom behind the plaster pilasters Julia wanted.

  Running new wiring in a building as old and solid as the Queen, never easy, but after a consult with the electrician, they figured on coming down from the attic for the fourth and third floors. That the coffered ceiling in the ballroom hung from an old iron framework and hooks made the task of wiring for the chandeliers a relative breeze. Gratifying work.