Going on Red

by Lyn Gardner

  “Jesus,” Gina said, taking Devon’s hand. “Oh, sweetheart, I had no idea.”

  “Well, shitty childhoods don’t make for good conversation.”

  “Please don’t joke about this.”

  “I’m not, and out of bad things, comes good because, after that day, Mum never slapped either one of us again.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “The next morning, Kate’s face was bruised. There was no way Mum could have missed it, yet she never said a word. She just put a plate of eggs and bacon in front of Kate and told her to eat her breakfast…and that was it. Kate and Mum would still argue at times, typical teenager stuff for the most part, but never again did Mum raise her hand in anger…until recently, that is.”

  “Thank God for that.”

  “Yeah, but it doesn’t erase how she treated us for those three years,” Devon said, looking at Gina. “Don’t get me wrong, Kate and I love our mother, and for the most part, we’ve forgiven her, but some scars go really deep. Mum’s never apologized for any of it, and I know that weighs on Kate. I mean, between the two of us, Kate bore the brunt of Mum’s temper way more than me, yet it’s like she’s still not worthy of Mum’s apology, you know?”

  “I never knew any of this,” Gina said softly. “Kate never said a thing.”

  “And I’m sure if you asked Kate now about it, she’d say the past is in the past, and she’s fine, and for the most part, she is. I mean, she’s got a great career and good friends, but when she lashes out like she did with me, when she loses her temper because things aren’t going her way, when Kate’s so headstrong you want to scream, well, that’s got my mother written all over it.”

  ***

  “Why do you have to be so bloody stubborn about this?”

  “Julian, I’m not being stubborn,” Kate said, raising her voice slightly. “I just think it’s too soon to talk about sharing a flat together. We’ve only been going out for a few months.”

  Julian huffed out a breath. “Why are you so afraid of taking a chance on this?”

  Kate shot Julian a look that could have easily planted him six feet under. Of all the things he could have said, that was the wrong one. Ten days prior, Brodie had stood in her house, berating Kate for being afraid of living life, and now, sitting in Julian’s car as they drove to an open house, her boyfriend was doing the same thing. If it hadn’t been for the fact she’d already backed out of two dates in as many weeks, Kate would have demanded Julian turn the car around. Instead, she stared out the window and counted to ten and then to twenty…and then to fifty.

  “Aren’t you going to answer me?”

  “You know what?” Kate said, shooting Julian yet another look. “I know this afternoon is important to you, so can we please just enjoy the day and talk about this later?”

  “Fine,” Julian said, steering the car onto a cobblestone drive. “We’re here anyway, so I guess I really don’t have a choice. Do I?”

  Thankful she’d put an end to traveling down a path she cared not to travel, Kate looked at the house they were approaching and smiled. She always loved Tudor homes. From their steeply pitched roofs to the half-timbers decorating the triangular gables to the large groups of rectangular windows nestled into the brick, they were almost medieval in appearance. And to make her mood brighten even further, in the place of a lawn, stepped gardens filled the front landscape on both sides of the walk leading to the arched entrance. A rainbow of color erupted from the sandstone boundaries, and as Kate admired the flowers, she realized it was the rock she should be noticing. “Oh, it’s marvelous. The garden walls are beautiful, and the driveway is amazing.”

  Julian jerked the car to a stop and gave Kate a side-eyed glance. “Thanks, but none of this crap is mine,” he said, and hopping out, he trotted around the car to open Kate’s door. “The addition’s on the back of the house. That’s where you’ll see just how talented I am, so prepare yourself to be impressed.”

  Kate began counting again as she climbed out of the car, her smile returning almost instantly when she breathed in the scent of the flowers. Kate loved flowers. She enjoyed visiting botanical gardens or strolling through parks on a sunny day, admiring the topiary and clusters of annuals and perennials planted around fountains and statues. Many an afternoon had been lost in greenhouses and exhibitions, and while the gardens around Kate’s home were small, every spring, she took great pleasure in filling them with as much color and fragrance as space allowed. When she first met Julian, Kate thought she’d found a kindred spirit in her love for gardens until Julian invited her to tour one of the garden parks he’d recently completed.

  Prior to meeting Julian, Kate never paid that much attention to the hardscapes that were Julian’s pride and joy. She appreciated the work that went into building the walls of stone and brick that kept the flowers captive, and the winding paths of concrete pavers that made it easy to traverse the sprawling landscape. Even the precast concrete benches situated under the shade of trees could be admired for the rest they offered, but that’s where Kate’s appreciation ended, and by the conclusion of Julian’s tour of the park, Kate wanted to scream.

  Julian had no interest in the topiaries or flowers overflowing the beds, and he made that perfectly clear. He scrunched up his nose at the delicate fragrance of the roses, waved off the aroma of the lilacs, and scoffed at the sculpted shrubbery all the while identifying every intricate detail of his hardscapes. How the rocks were perfectly stacked, how the bricks were perfectly aligned, and how the pavers were perfectly level. At first, Kate took it in stride. She told herself there was nothing wrong with taking pride in your work, or in Julian’s case, in his designs, but that was before she discovered Julian’s method of advertising. Not only was the name of Julian’s company etched into the surfaces of numerous pavers and bricks, but brochure boxes sprouted from the beds like unsightly weeds. The plastic was yellowed and scratched and under the lids, protecting them from the weather, were flyers about Julian’s company. Kate found it tacky and disruptive. She didn’t want to see propaganda littering the view of what were beautiful gardens, and it was all she could do not to voice her opinion when Julian puffed out his chest, pontificating that none of his competitors had ever been so intelligent.

  Kate followed Julian up the walk, biting her tongue as she listened to his condemnations of the landscape architecture on the front lawn, and before they reached the door, Kate had made up her mind. Where Julian was concerned, the bloom was definitely off the rose.

  After being cordially greeted by the happy homeowners, Kate barely had a chance to get a glass of wine before Julian was ushering her toward the back of the home. Thankfully, one of their hosts came to her rescue when she called Julian over to introduce him to a possible new client. Kate’s mood changed in the blink of an eye, and sipping her Chardonnay, she moseyed through the house alone.

  Like many older homes, the ceilings in the original section were low, and as Kate approached the ample doorway leading to the addition, she thought the trend would continue. She was wrong. While the height of the opening matched those in the front of the house, as soon as Kate walked through it onto a highly polished wooden floor, she nearly dropped her glass.

  The ingenious architect had used a tray ceiling, and while the lowest section matched the original architecture, from there, it gradually stepped up, higher and higher until it peaked at well over ten feet. Kate was in awe of the design, and her admiration continued when she saw the conservatory to her right.

  Made almost entirely out of glass, the room was alive with brilliance. Even though blinds were installed on the roof panels to prevent the sun’s rays from heating the room, the glass walls allowed more than enough natural light to enter. Rattan furniture, covered in tropical-themed cushions, was placed around the perimeter, and down the center of the room was a rectangular glass table surrounded by chairs, offering a comfortable place to sit for breakfast, lunch, or even dinner. Clay pots were scattered about, some holding towering s
nake plants and bushy foxtail ferns, while slender orchids rose from others, their petals holding in their delicateness a myriad of colors.

  Next to the conservatory was the new kitchen, and it was as uncomplicated as it was elegant. Cherry, flat-panel shaker doors covered the cabinetry, and a densely veined granite of ivory and tan served as the countertop. Drop lights highlighted the workstations and the island separating the kitchen from the rest of the addition, and a large window unit filled the back wall so those preparing meals could gaze at the rolling hills behind the house.

  To the left of the kitchen area was a four-panel-wide door that led to the patio, and Kate didn’t have to step outside to have her breath taken away.

  “It’s marvelous, isn’t it?”

  Kate turned to see the homeowner walking toward her. “It’s amazing, Mrs. Hirshfeld. Absolutely amazing.”

  “Please, call me Dori,” the woman said as she stood next to Kate. “It’s actually Dorethea, but I’m too young to have a name that old.”

  Kate grinned as she looked out the glass again. “The view is stunning.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Dori said, admiring the landscape. “You know, when Max and I were interviewing architects, we invited them out to see the property, and as you can imagine, they spent most of their time taking measurements and photographs…except for one. It was cold that day, brisk enough to see your breath, and at the time, there was nothing behind the house except a ridiculous little wooden deck surrounded by grass and weeds. It was truly horrid, but for over an hour, she stood on that ghastly old thing, almost where you’re standing now, taking in the view without saying a word. When she finally came inside, she spent another hour just talking to us about what we wanted, what we liked, and what we didn’t. She didn’t take one bloody measurement that day, and before I ever saw her preliminary designs, I knew she’d be the one we’d hire. She seemed so focused, so in tune, you know? Really quite an amazing woman, our Brodie.”

  ***

  “It’s brilliant, isn’t it?” Julian said, holding his head high. “Of course, it’s only domestic cobbles. They were too cheap to use imported, or sandstone or granite slabs like I suggested, but every one of these stones is perfectly level. Not an easy task, trust me.”

  Kate’s eye roll went unnoticed as she walked the path leading back to the house. “It’s very nice, Julian.”

  “Nice? Is that all you can say? Look around, Kate. This is my work. This is what will put food on our table, and believe you me, it has to be better than nice to do that.”

  “Julian,” Kate said, coming to a stop. “You’ve spent the last two hours pointing out every cobble, every stone, and every bench. It’s warm. I’m thirsty, and my feet are sore. Your work is marvelous. It truly is, but I’m getting a little tired. If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to head back to that bench we passed and rest for a bit. All right?”

  “Honey, I don’t have time to sit,” Julian said, straightening his posture. “The guest list is filled with possibilities. I can’t waste my time relaxing down here when there’s money to be made up there.”

  “Then go on without me. I’ll catch up.”

  “That’s a marvelous idea,” Julian said, spinning on his heel. “Thanks, babe.”

  Julian sprinted up the path, and smiling to herself, Kate turned around and retraced her steps. It only took a minute to come upon the bench she’d seen, and taking a seat, Kate promptly kicked off her shoes. It was a gorgeous summer day, and with not a cloud in the sky, Kate was thankful for not only the shade provided by a nearby tree but also for the light breeze that continued to blow. She was also thankful to escape her new shoes. Wiggling her toes, Kate muttered, “Next time, Monroe, buy something that feels good instead of just something that looks good.”

  ***

  Brodie’s intentions had only been to attend and blend into the background, except the Hirshfelds had made that impossible. They were so pleased with her work, they insisted on introducing her to all their friends, and within a few hours, Brodie’s phone was filled with the names and numbers of possible clients. Brodie hadn’t planned on looking for new business that day…and she also hadn’t planned on seeing Kate.

  Worn out from talking, Brodie had escaped to the conservatory to have a drink, and settling into a chair, she took a few minutes to enjoy the view. As her eyes wandered across the landscape, she spotted a couple walking down one of the paths, and as they got a bit closer, Brodie narrowed her eyes. The woman wearing a lemon yellow halter dress was Kate, and she was holding hands with Julian Fitzgerald.

  An avid gardener, Mr. Hirshfeld wasn’t interested in someone else’s opinions on what flowers he would plant. He only needed a company that could design and install the boundaries and walkways, so while Brodie’s company was responsible for the layout and construction of the new wing, Premier Hardscapes by Julian had been hired by the Hirshfelds for the exterior work.

  Wealth, at times, can bring with it a certain, albeit false, sense of entitlement, and Brodie, having had her fair share of affluent clients, was quite accustomed to their grandiose demands. Gold-plated fixtures, imported cabinetry, custom Italian marble inlays, wine cellars larger than her own flat, and in-home theaters able to comfortably sit eighteen only scratched the surface of what some had wanted, so Max and Dori Hirshfeld were a breath of fresh air. Although of independent means, the Hirshfelds saw no need to flaunt that fact, and through conversation, Brodie discovered they preferred simple over preposterous. They wanted a warm, inviting addition, a place for the family to gather, to laugh while meals were prepared, and to enjoy the rolling hills and soon-to-be gardens behind their home. Using this knowledge, Brodie had incorporated natural colors and light into her design and using soft wood tones and fixtures appearing modest even though they weren’t, Brodie designed the Hirshfelds exactly what they wanted without conflict. Unfortunately, when it came to Julian Fitzgerald, it seemed conflict was his middle name.

  Recommended by a friend, the Hirshfelds had signed a contract with Julian with the understanding that his approach would be minimalistic and uncomplicated. They didn’t want anything to distract from the hills in the distance. They merely wanted a place for Max to indulge in his love for flowers, a small area where Dori could grow some vegetables, and meandering paths throughout, so at night, when the sun was setting, they could walk hand-in-hand amongst nature. Julian didn’t hear a word.

  Having already researched the Hirshfelds, he knew they could afford much more than minimalistic, and he believed once he impressed them with his designs, they would readily accept them without batting an eye. Two weeks later, he met the Hirshfelds and Brodie at the house and proudly displayed his intentions. He covered the table with sketches and computer-generated photographs showing pathways of imported Belgian cobble, garden walls constructed of marble and topped with slabs of granite, soaring statues, magnificent fountains, and an outdoor fire pit taking up a third of the space on the patio. The Hirshfelds were speechless. Brodie was not.

  Brodie’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of voices and noticing a couple sitting down at the table with plates filled with assorted canapés, Brodie gave them a grin as she got to her feet. Heading out of the conservatory, she went back to the party, sampling a few of the appetizers as she mingled until she returned to the kitchen and looked out the window. Brodie had wanted to apologize for days, but each time she picked up the phone, the sting of her words and Kate’s slaps resounded in her head. Brodie had stormed into Kate’s house, filled with the rage that comes from injustice, and she left battered, wishing she could take it all back. Brodie hung her head. Whoever said love was grand was a bloody fool.

  Kate slipped on her shoes when she reached the patio, and tapping across the brick toward a small table, shaded by a majestic oak, she took a seat. Again removing her uncomfortable yet gorgeous high-heels, Kate kicked them under the table, totally oblivious that she was being watched.

  Like a voyeur, Brodie gazed at Kate throu
gh the glass. At first, she was just a lemony speck on a bench in the distance until she finally made her way up the walk alone. Brodie scanned the patio, and seeing Julian nowhere around, her focus returned to Kate. The breeze blew the skirt of her dress ever so gently, and her sandy hair appeared almost golden in the sunlight, and as she moved across the patio, Brodie had only one thought. When it came to beauty…God had outdone Himself.

  When Kate disappeared from view, Brodie sighed, and she was about to return to the party one last time when she saw an open bottle of wine on the counter. Brodie chuckled under breath at her own fortitude. Grabbing two glasses and the Chardonnay, Brodie headed outside, praying that this meeting wouldn’t be as disastrous as the last.

  Chapter Seventeen

  As a glass of wine was placed in front of her, Kate heard a familiar voice say, “Consider it a peace offering.”

  Kate swiveled in her seat, and looking up, she shielded her eyes from the sun. “And if I choose not to accept?”

  “Then I’ll go back inside and bring out a bottle of red.”

  Kate smiled despite herself. She wanted to hate Brodie. She wanted not to care, but damn it all to hell, Kate couldn’t. She just couldn’t.

  When Brodie saw Kate smile, her day was made, and pulling out a chair, she quickly sat down and filled the other glass with wine. “I want to apologize,” she said, placing the bottle on the table. “What happened at your flat, it was wrong of me to say those things and to do…to do what I did. I was a bit on edge at the time, and I took it out on you, and I’m truly sorry. Devon’s your sister—”