Sets Appeal

by Virginia Taylor

  He laughed to himself. She had everything money could buy and yet she’d spent practically the whole month saving him money by doing jobs for him. He’d never been in love before, and Vix was a very special girl. When the time came, he hoped he would be able to let her go without trying to take her back again.

  * * * *

  Vix took a two-hour lunch break and had her hair trimmed to shoulder length. Sitting in front of the hairdresser’s mirror, she stared at herself, swishing her head, liking the fact that her hair swayed without being caught on her shoulders. Now, no one could say she looked like Lonny.

  Lately, she had found constantly straightening her hair a time waster when she had so many things to do that were more interesting than worrying about her appearance. So now, finally, she looked like herself rather than the sort of woman who would interest the sort of man who didn’t interest her. Since the summer heat curled her hair, the hairdresser had facilitated that. Vix thought she looked younger and brighter when she arrived back at the warehouse, but naturally not one of the guys noticed.

  “How was the reunion with the girls?” Jay asked, leaving the others and strolling over when he spotted her.

  “Guilt-making, initially. After I was married, I stopped seeing my old friends. Unbelievable as it sounds, my husband asked that of me, and I did as he asked. My two besties from school were there last night and they forgave me instantly. One is married with a baby and the other is still single, like me.”

  “So, you see yourself as single?” He lifted his eyebrows.

  “If I’m not married, I’m single.” She planted her hands on his hips, challenging him with a smile.

  “So, I am, too.” He sounded miffed. “Single with benefits. Will I see you tonight? I finished the chairs.”

  “Great. That will give me something interesting to do at your place.” Staring straight into his eyes, she laughed with the confidence of a woman who could now use sex as recreation.

  He sighed and she enjoyed his air of amused tolerance. When he left, she stared after him, momentarily guilty. She could tease him about sex now, but she appreciated the other aspects of their relationship just as much and she knew he did, too. He liked that she could make and do, and she appreciated that he could. She liked that he didn’t care about money, but he didn’t need to. He was self-sufficient. She loved watching him work as much as she loved working herself.

  After a meal of grilled salmon and salad with him that night, she sat on the floor in front of his art deco chairs, inspecting the material they had chosen together, a suede striped in two shades of brown. Jay had stripped the seats of the dusty old material and removed the webbing from the undersides. She tacked on the new webbing while he tried not to help her. She could see his hands twitch with the effort.

  “You can finish this while I get the curved needle ready to sew the springs to the webbing.”

  He gave her one of his ah-ha glances and took over, hammering quickly and efficiently. “What are you doing for Christmas?”

  “Steve said you guys will only be taking off Christmas day. I have to go to the country for Christmas. My father always spends summer in the Barossa and I haven’t seen the rest of the family since I started this job. He expects me to stay for at least three to four days. I plan to leave town on the twenty-fourth, and be back at the warehouse on the twenty-eighth. What are you doing?” She began to sew the springs to the webbing.

  “Sherry does Christmas day for us. Do you want a coffee?”

  “Water, thanks.”

  He disappeared into the garage when she began on the seats, first arranging the padding, then stapling the lining, and finally she tacked the suede upholstery fabric on top. That done, she neatened the underneath, using calico to conceal the webbing. She glued on the braid, and then she upholstered the center of the chair backs, since the strips needed nothing other than that and the brown braid edging. When she had finished, she went outside to see what he was doing.

  He had made new cupboard doors for the kitchen out of reclaimed wood—so far, only four. At the rate he worked, he would have the lot finished before Christmas. She hugged him and one thing led to another. Before she had time to appreciate his urgent foreplay, he whisked her back inside for one of his glorious bad-boy sessions.

  She had planned to go home that night, but for one reason or another, she stayed the whole weekend again. On Monday morning, Jay was picked up by Steve, as usual. Keeping the relationship quiet had begun to be a chore. Life would be easier for her if the guys knew about her relationship with Jay, but she would lose the friendships she had begun to cherish. From being one of the guys, she would be reclassified as the boss’s woman. Most of her life had been spent as the boss’s daughter. She no longer wanted to concede to ownership.

  With half an hour to wait until she could leave, too, she pottered around his house. The sitting room was finished but for the window coverings and possibly a few pictures on the walls. Though she said so herself, the room looked design perfect. She knew he planned to do his bedroom next and she agreed that the other two could wait. However, somehow she’d never wandered into either room and so she did.

  The one he called the second bedroom held a large single bed, a ’50s-style dressing table and a matching wardrobe, both irredeemable. The bed was made-up with a yellow patterned spread but no longer covered by the books he had mentioned previously. The third bedroom held the books, piled insecurely on the floor, and a large desk containing a computer, a printer, and folder of printouts. Rolls of paper occupied one corner with sheets of cardboard and detailed drawings of various buildings, apparently diagrams of old sets. One day she would love to see what he had built, but today she had room renovating in mind. If he wanted a nice study, he didn’t need to do much to this room other than polish the floor, paint the walls, and add solid shelving.

  Thinking, she remembered her father had a couple of sets of red-gum shelves in his Barossa shed that had once graced the offices of Tremain’s. He had deemed these too good to toss out willy-nilly and would be pleased to donate them to a worthy cause, or so she imagined. She would ask him when she went to the country house on Thursday. Also, she needed to decide on a Christmas present for Jay, nothing extravagant. Although she would have loved to buy him a new wardrobe of clothes, that would be like buying him, and she wouldn’t buy a man again. If she couldn’t earn him herself, he wasn’t worth having.

  The thought stopped her in her tracks. She wanted to keep him. She hadn’t fallen in love in a couple of months. Not at all. She’d fallen in love in a single day. She had watched him work and play, and she had been totally charmed. Only now did she realize she had loved him from the start and she couldn’t deny this to herself any longer.

  She’d never had more in common with anyone in her life. He was the perfect man for her in every way but one. Background. That shouldn’t be insurmountable. Her father could set him up in his own business. Jay was canny enough to make a success of himself with backing. But would her father agree? Would Jay? He was certainly a proud man and likely wouldn’t accept being bought. And since she had bought her first husband, she had real qualms about having to buy her second.

  Of course, neither of them had mentioned love. She certainly hadn’t. Nor would she until and unless she decided that apart from companionability she provided and the regular sex, he wanted a forever relationship. The only important question was did Jay actually love her, too?

  Chapter 12

  Melissa Tremain, Vix’s stepmother, opened the door. “Darling,” she drawled, her welcoming smile showing her square white teeth. For a woman of her age, mid-forties, she looked marvelous. She could have passed for mid-thirties had she dressed younger but she wore designer clothes, tonight wearing a free-flowing black skirt and a tailored cream silk blouse, both probably with French labels. The long hallway of the country mansion loomed behind her, highlighting her stylish, blond jaw-length hair. “You look gorgeous. Doesn’t she look gorgeous,
James?”

  Vix’s gray-blond father, standing behind with his hand on his wife’s shoulder said, “Yes, dear.” Wearing light trousers and a shirt in the same blue color as his eyes, he winked at Vix.

  Pushing between them, Sebastian, her young half-brother yelled, “Vix. Granny is cooking. Come to the kitchen with me.” He snatched at her hand.

  “Your father will bring in your bags,” Melissa said, stepping neatly aside.

  “Kiss first.” Vix kissed her father and Melissa and her small, blond, determined brother before she was hauled down the wide passage to the kitchen right at the end of the house. The first South Australian Tremain had settled here in 1856, having made his fortune in the fertile Barossa Valley.

  Now the diminished holding grew grapes for Vix’s father’s hobby boutique winery. James also ran a few token cows and horses and he kept hens as well as an extensive vegetable garden. Melissa grew roses for the inside of the house where the original old rooms were large and gracious and the new additions were larger and more gracious, the two parts connected by a glass atrium through which Vix passed to the enormous marble-floored kitchen.

  Her grandmother was in her middle seventies, a good-looking, trim woman, and as she said herself, “well preserved.” Margaret Tremain put on her discreet makeup at first light in the morning and she never had one smooth gray hair out of place. She never had a chip in her bright nail polish, and she dressed like a woman with an extensive income. Her high-necked citrus lace blouse coordinated perfectly with her slim-fitting gray skirt. Vix had been led to believe her own mother had been equally fashion conscious.

  Vix didn’t wear nail polish now. Paint messed with manicured hands. “Granny. Merry Christmas.” She hugged and kissed the older woman.

  Margaret leaned back. “Well. Not only do you look beautiful, but you look happy. Working must agree with you.”

  “I wasn’t any more idle while I was married than you are,” Vix said in a voice of mock outrage. “What are you making?”

  “Gingerbread,” Sebastian shrieked from the sidelines. “They all forgot.”

  “But you don’t like gingerbread.” Vix glanced at him with a smile.

  “I’ll be in grade two next year,” he said with a repressive frown. “I’m a bit more grown up than I was last Christmas.”

  “I’ve noticed. Smart jeans! I bet you wouldn’t have worn them when you were five.”

  “Well,” he said looking down at his jeans. “I got them when I was five but I was almost six. Can I squash the dough for you, Granny?”

  Margaret placed the stool, Sebastian kneeled on the seat, and with great concentration he made a lumpy mass worthy of a six-year-old. He lost interest when offered the rolling pin and left for other older-boy pursuits, like taking off his new red sneakers and skidding in his socks down the polished hall. Meanwhile, Vix and her lovely granny made gingerbread men and caught up on the latest doings of each other.

  Melissa liked dinner to be formal, and so Vix changed out of her travelling clothes into a sleeveless floral top and an olive green flowing skirt. She spent a happy Christmas Eve with her family, certain Jay would fit in here. An uncomplicated man, he could talk about world affairs, politics, and various incidentals without unnecessary words or wandering into personalities. He didn’t have the gossip gene she so disliked and he had a rare ability to draw people into conversations.

  She would never be ashamed of him in company, even with his shaggy-cut hair, his work boots, and his pilled shirts. He wasn’t a pushy type. He eased in and he relaxed people. She thought her father would probably like him, being the same.

  Not until the day after Christmas did she have time to talk to her father alone. She asked him if she could have the shelves in the shed for a friend.

  “Of course. When do you want them delivered?”

  “I’ll need to make sure he wants them first, not that I think he won’t. He trusts my taste.”

  “He?”

  “The set construction manager. I’m helping him redecorate his house.”

  “He couldn’t find anyone better. You’ve always had a good eye for color. What does his wife think about him taking advice from a smart, beautiful blonde?” He pushed his hands into his pockets and raised his eyebrows at her.

  She laughed. “That’s your subtle way of asking if he’s single. Yes, he is. All the guys I work with are single except the youngest, who also has three children, and he’s younger than me.”

  “So, tell me about your work.”

  “I’m the only woman working on the set and so naturally I’m treated like a princess. I barely need to lift a finger. They fetch and carry and do everything I want, five of them. I’ve been very spoiled. They all have special skills. For instance, the youngest, Luke, is a plumber and he has constructed intricate piping for the swimming pool on the set. The pool will look real but it’s just a visual trick. His brother, Kell, has made or modified most of the furniture we need. And Trent. He’s amazing. He has been cutting out various leaves and trees for me with a jigsaw and so intricately that they’re almost works of art. Each of the guys has a different skill. They like what they do, and that’s infectious.”

  He nodded. “I can’t think of the last time I saw you with that glow of happiness.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be happy when I am treated like a goddess? I was used to being with people who made me feel gauche and childish. Now, I think I’m a grown woman with interesting ideas. If I’m insecure about any of my colors or finishes, I get bolstered up with large amounts of admiration. We’re all about same age at the warehouse, which is I suppose why we get along so well.”

  “I’m sure they appreciate you as much as we do.” He gave her a doting-father smile. “Your enthusiasm makes you very endearing. You’d lost that for a time.”

  She moistened her throat. “I’m enjoying helping with Jay’s house, too. Oh, and I mixed a color for Luke’s house and his wife loves it.”

  “I can’t wait to see the show, but I’ll only be looking at the sets, of course.”

  “Of course.” She laughed. “I haven’t been to a rehearsal yet and so I don’t know how good the cast is. All I can recommend is the set.”

  “Your grandmother, with Melissa and I, will be coming to the first night. I have room for plenty more guests in the box, if you want to join us or invite anyone.”

  She hesitated. “I’ve talked the others into seeing the show after we have bumped-in, and so we’ll be at the last dress rehearsal. Steve knows he will hate it. He says it freaks him out when a guy is talking on the stage and suddenly bursts into song. He said in real life a guy wouldn’t be able to make up a tune and all the words on the spot, no matter how much in love he is.”

  He chuckled. “I think you have to be brought up with musical theater to appreciate the finer points. You were, and you do. You don’t have to let me know about the box but we would love to enjoy your success with you.”

  “The guys don’t know I’m your daughter,” she said, awkwardly pulling at her fingers. “Maybe none have ever heard of you, but the press has and if I’m seen with you, I’ll get a mention about painting the set and…I don’t want to be your daughter who painted the set. If I’m mentioned, I want it to be because I did something special.”

  He caught her gaze, nodded slowly, and turned to the wall of the shed. “So, do these shelves look like the kind of thing you want for your set construction manager?”

  She hugged him. “I’m pretty sure they’re the kind of thing he would appreciate. He knows quality when he sees it, and he doesn’t waste a thing. He made his kitchen cupboard doors from old floorboards and his sound system hides in an old cedar wardrobe. You would have to pay a thousand dollars for something like that in a vintage revival shop. The house is going to look fabulous when it’s finished, but he probably won’t get much for it when he sells.”

  “Why not? Renovated houses are usually good sellers.”

  She lifte
d her shoulders. “The house is in Port Adelaide. Prices there are so low it’s ridiculous. From the end of his street, you can see the masts of the tall ships tethered along the dock. Wherever you look are old heritage buildings, most falling apart. The main streets are beautifully paved, though, and some renewal seems to be happening. We took a walk along the dock one evening, and the water is so clear there you can see the bottom. Sometimes, the dolphins come to the edge to say hello. It ought to be a great tourist area, but it’s usually quiet.”

  “Jay,” he said, a crease between his eyebrows. “Is he a Port Adelaide local?”

  “Born and bred at the port.” She smiled. “He looks rather dangerous at first glance because he has a scar on his face from here to here.” She ran her finger from the edge of her mouth to under her eye. “But he’s the gentlest person imaginable. All the guys are. They went to school together. If they’re not careful, they’ll give the place a good reputation.”

  Her father smiled. “Will you be working with the same team if you take other set jobs?”

  “Jay has been doing some course or other related to building. He said he is going to work full-time next year and so I won’t be working with him again, but I might be working with the others, that is, if I am reemployed.”

  And if she had done a good enough job, she might be offered a job as a set designer. Then, she would be self-supporting for the first time in her life. The idea swelled her head with pride. For the first time, she would actually be herself and worthy of a gorgeous guy like Jay.

  * * * *

  Jay’s shoulders tensed as nine AM arrived. He examined one thing and then another, as nervous as a builder standing on a three-legged trestle. He didn’t know if Vix might have mentioned his name to her father. If so, she would have found out about him and might not return on the day she said she would return, though he had the idea that even if she never wanted to speak to him again she would finish the job she had started. He couldn’t see her leaving anyone in the lurch. Not Vix. Not the most responsible, reliable, and loveable woman in the world.