by Ines Saint
“No. We’ve expanded our empire and Gracie is one of our tenants.” Ruby explained how the town’s history, niche businesses, walkability, and access to kayaking and biking made the mansion they’d bought in front of the river perfect for Airbnb rentals. Gracie was living in one of four apartments there.
“In 1A,” Sherry said, slanting her head toward the door.
Josh got up. “Who’s up for a ride?” he asked.
“You don’t need us there, Josh.” The look in Sherry’s eyes, as if she could see right through him, was disconcerting. “You and Gracie are adults. And besides, the street is nearly abandoned. Only Hope, Gracie, and a few ghosts live on that street.”
He grinned. “Ghosts?”
“It’s the third most-haunted street in all Ohio. Disbelievers beware,” Ruby said with both a warning and a twinkle in her eye. But with Ruby, the twinkle was scarier than the warning.
* * *
For the first time since she’d been back in the Dayton region, Gracie drove to her temporary home in the small town of Spinning Hills without feeling the ever-present, clawing paranoia that she’d be recognized and have to deal with the past. And for the first time since she’d learned about landing the courts building job, she was able to think about it without heaviness in the pit of her stomach.
When she got to her apartment, she fell back onto the sofa, stared at the ceiling, and went over her day, feeling good.
She’d even gotten used to the tightness in her chest, to the point where she’d been able to ignore it. It was too much to hope that it would disappear.
Collaboration among the team had felt natural. Ideas to make people’s work lives both efficient and pleasant had flowed easily. Everyone had both listened and contributed. Lighting, acoustics, material, and color palettes. The new workplace design was taking shape in her mind, and it would have a real impact on people’s lives. It had been an inspiring experience for them all. And Gracie had felt like a good leader.
That had been the boost she hadn’t known she’d needed. To be looked up to and respected, and to know she deserved it. She smiled to herself before a buzz interrupted her thoughts, informing her someone was outside, waiting to be let into the small lobby of the Tudor mansion. She got up and went to the intercom by the door. “Who is it?”
“It’s Josh. Josh Goodwin,” a deep, confident voice replied.
Heat infused her body, her heart began beating in double time, and her brain turned to mush. She blew out a frustrated breath, leaned her forehead on the door, and forced herself to breathe evenly a few times. She’d have thought she’d feel dread over having him at her door. He was part of the past, after all. But what she felt was something else entirely.
“I’ll buzz you in,” she finally answered, because her brain wasn’t functioning clearly enough to come up with an excuse to send him away. She pressed the red button and opened the door, wondering how he knew where she lived.
“Hey,” she greeted him. The easiest thing would be to let him do the talking. He’d shown up at her doorstep, after all.
“Hey.” He smiled. “Sorry to visit unannounced, but your grandmother seemed to think it would be okay.”
Her grandmother. Of course.
“How was your first day?” he asked.
“Um. Great.”
“Were you impressed with our late-twentieth-century, er . . . espace de bureau?” He raised an eyebrow in mock conceit. “That’s office space in French.”
Gracie bit back a smile. Josh had a sense of humor? She didn’t remember him that way. Probably because she’d been battling depression and anxiety and he’d kept a respectful distance. “Prep-school humor?” she asked.
“Um . . . sí?”
Her lips twitched and her guard came down a notch. “Don’t you mean oui?”
“Oui.” He nodded with a mischievous grin. Gracie stepped aside and gestured toward couch, unable to look at the twinkle in his eyes.
Josh sat down on one of the red armchairs and she took a seat on the yellow love seat across from him. “So. Tell me about your job. How exactly do you start a project of this magnitude?” he began.
She stared a moment, wondering how to say what she wanted to say without coming off as socially challenged—which, when it came to men, she was. “You’re in lawyer psychology mode, I think. You’re trying to get me to relax and chat, but you don’t have to. You can simply tell me why you’re here.” She didn’t want him to waste time he didn’t have on her account. He was a busy man. A very busy man, judging from that morning’s press conference.
Josh leaned forward and gave her a charming smile. “I’m asking about your day because I’m interested.”
Gracie tilted her head and gave herself a quick moment to study him with an artist’s eye, taking note of his individual features, curious as to how they made the whole so appealing. Maybe if she understood it, she could appreciate it on a technical level. Heavy-hooded, clear brown eyes and a wide nose offset by a wide, bow-shaped mouth that looked both serious and ready to smile. She blinked and looked away. “Oh. So that’s why you’re here?” she tried again, hoping to keep his stay short. Studying his mouth had made her feel twitchy. Or maybe it was the fact that she suspected his visit had something to do with him running for county prosecutor.
Josh sighed and leaned back, as if he was settling in and not ready to leave at all. “I see you take after your grandmother. No mincing words with either of you.”
She bit her lip as she thought about her grandmother. “Grandma Sherry has been a constant presence in my life the past seven months. Trust me, I have to mince words with her. All the time. But I know you wouldn’t show up here without a reason and I don’t want you to feel as if you have to engage in small talk first. That’s all.”
He nodded and turned serious. “You’re right. I’m here for a reason, but catching up with you isn’t small talk. I meant what I said last night.”
Gracie had a hard time looking at him because she knew he was telling the truth. But the dynamics of their old relationship had changed; it was obvious even though they’d scarcely spoken. They were both adults, they were both professionals, and they were aware they shared a unique history. “Okay. We can catch up . . . but can we get the other reason you’re here out of the way first so it isn’t in the back of my mind?”
“Right.” He looked up at her from under his eyelashes and her heart took a new kind of hit. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m running for county prosecutor.”
She gave him a quick nod. “I saw you out front today, making your announcement.”
He didn’t look surprised. “The thing is, a lot of things might come up . . . including an old rumor.” His eyes met hers fully, and though it was uncomfortable, she could tell it was imperative for him to get through to her. “You happen to be the subject of the old rumor, Gracie, and you’re here, so I wanted you to be prepared, and I wanted to talk about how we can handle it, together, so it doesn’t hurt either of us.”
Gracie had been thinking earlier about how inconvenient it was for him to have her back, and now there he was, behaving as if he was equally worried about her. She felt she owed him the same, which meant it was time to play worst-case scenario. With Josh. Her stomach dived, but she plowed through. “I thought about that when I heard your announcement. How—how do you think we should handle it?”
“Helen suggested we act like old friends who are happy to reunite.”
“And what do you think?”
“I don’t put on acts. I am happy to see you and I do want us to be friends. We went through a lot together.” His eyes and voice and entire demeanor were warm and sincere, but she was having a hard time thinking it all through because her reactions to everything about him were beginning to make her both uncomfortable and confused.
The space between them was laced with the scent of heady cologne, his presence overwhelmingly masculine. These were things her body hadn’t registered in a pleasant way about any man i
n years.
She cleared her throat. It would be easier for her to stay away from him, but she wouldn’t do that. Yes, if old rumors did resurface, she’d feel as if she were drowning, again. But then she’d resurface for air. Again. There would be no choice. But if she acted strange around him, and people noticed, she’d take him under the surface with her, and he didn’t deserve it. “I can do that,” she said. “Be friends.”
He gestured with his chin at a vintage, handmade tan leather portfolio lying on the coffee table. “Is that your work?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Can I see it?”
She slid it over toward him and tried to hide a smile, but he caught it. “What are you smiling at?” he asked.
“Nothing” was the first response that came to mind. But then she decided to tell him. “You’re trying to get me to talk again.”
He gave her a playful wink, picked up her portfolio, and started flipping through it, which was a good thing because she was blushing from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. All because of a wink.
As he flipped through her sketches and before-and-after pictures, he continued to try to get her to talk. “I remember your favorite subjects were geometry and art and I can see both fitting into what you do, but how did you decide on becoming a workspace designer? It’s not a common career path.”
The fact that he remembered her favorite subjects touched her and she didn’t know what to do with the feeling. “A professor recommended it,” she said, though there was a lot more to it. She’d won a contest. It had been the first step in feeling good about herself in new, different ways. But she remained silent after that one sentence.
“That’s it?”
She nodded. He probably thought she was insipid. But that’s what she wanted, right? To be bland and boring and disappear.
Josh looked into her eyes again. “Want to know how I chose my current career path?”
“Yes.”
“There once was a brave girl named Gracie—”
“No.” Gracie’s heart almost gave out. “Please don’t. I can’t.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’ll leave.” He placed the open portfolio on the table and started to get up.
“Don’t leave.” She’d cry if she were left alone with those words. There once was a brave girl named Gracie . . .
She closed her eyes. He was trying to tell her she’d had an impact on his life. A good one. He was trying to be friends. When she opened her eyes again, she saw Josh was allowing her to regroup by studying the sketch that had started it all instead of looking at her. Friends, she thought, as she began, “I took a year off after high school and went to live in Rhode Island with my dad’s great-aunt, working two part-time jobs to save for school. There’s a great school of design there, and they held a contest in coordination with a major office supply chain. The winner would receive a full scholarship. I entered that sketch and won. That’s how it all began.”
Josh nodded but didn’t look at her. Probably he thought she was a loon for panicking one moment and opening up the next. “I can see why you won,” he said. “The office looks both conducive to work and calming.”
Gracie stared at it, too. “I’ve been doing it forever, I guess. Creating peaceful, productive spaces.”
Josh didn’t dare look at her. Finally, she was opening up. And he remembered she’d said something similar years ago, when he’d been prepping her to take the stand if the case came to that, so the judge would get to know her and understand how a smart, artistic girl had been taken advantage of during her most vulnerable moment.
As if reading his mind, she said, “I guess you know so much about me already, it shouldn’t feel weird to fill in the blanks for you. When other people ask, I leave the most important parts out.”
He met her eyes then. It looked like they were getting somewhere.
Gracie shrugged. “You know Paige was our substitute mom when our mother was . . . blitzed is what Hope called it.” She offered a faint smile he knew was aimed at Hope and not at their mom. “Paige would make sure the house was clean, that our homework was done, and that we were fed. Hope was such a numbers wiz—she took care of the budget and made sure the bills were paid. Between the two of them, they took care of me, and the only thing I could give back was to make them happy the only way I knew how—by making our trailer look cozy and pretty, and by making clothes that helped them express who they were. I wanted peace to harmonize with hard work. They’d smile and say I made everything easier and I’d feel useful. And... I guess that’s the real story of how I ended up doing what I do.”
They were quiet for a while, until Josh looked around. “And this is the space you’ve created for yourself?”
Gracie threw her head back and laughed. When she looked back at him, she seemed surprised by her outburst. She looked like a wide-eyed, blushing emoticon. Her expression made Josh laugh, too.
For the first time since he’d walked in, she looked like she wasn’t hiding. But even though she was acting like she was happy to chat with him, something in her demeanor spoke of a loneliness that mirrored his own. Her tentative smiles, her sketches, her confession about why she did what she did, and her willingness to open up, as if she owed him something, all touched him. It had been a while since he’d been tempted to reach beneath the surface with a woman. A few friends with benefits that were just as busy, just as cautious, and just as wary of relationships as he was filled lonely nights now and then, but they rarely talked about anything other than work and local news.
Gracie’s mouth relaxed into a sweet smile and her eyes sparkled with humor, although he still didn’t know what he’d said that was funny, and he noticed, for the first time, that she was remarkably beautiful.
The thought made him uncomfortable and he got up to leave. This was Gracie. The seventeen-year-old girl who’d once come to him for help. But then he shook his head because she wasn’t seventeen-year-old Gracie. She was a woman now. That had all been nine years ago. It was an adjustment his brain would have to make.
When she saw he intended to leave, she got up and walked him to the door, explaining along the way. “Let’s just say that living in apartment 1A is more difficult than I’ll ever admit to Rosa.”
He gave her a questioning look. “Rosa decorated it,” she explained.
That made Josh smile, too. He looked again at the myriad of animal-patterned throw pillows and area rugs and the color red everywhere, before turning to her again. “Rosa, huh? That explains a lot.” They shared a conspiratorial look, and Gracie again smiled that beautiful smile. This time he studied her. Sky-blue eyes, full, pink lips, cute, upturned nose, and pale blond hair. Thirty minutes ago if someone had asked him what she looked like, he wouldn’t have been able to remember any details of her face.
Gracie hung on to the door. “They bought the house from the Amador brothers, who are well-known for quality rehabilitations, but Grandma, Ruby, and Rosa insisted on decorating and picking out the finishes in three of the apartments. They figured themed apartments on a haunted street in a town with a rich history would add to their appeal on Airbnb.”
Josh bit his lip. “I know Sam and Dan Amador through Johnny. He’s a school psychologist for the Dayton School District, and we became friends after he referred a case. Knowing them, I’m guessing they weren’t happy about giving up control.”
She laughed. “Nope. They insisted on having complete control of the fourth apartment, for their reputation’s sake.” She looked around before leaning in to whisper, “Don’t you dare ever quote me on this, but the one the Amadors decorated is the best one. Beautiful quartzite countertops. Neutral beige walls. White trim. Soothing décor. We all wanted it, but we didn’t dare tell Grandma, Ruby, and Rosa.”
Josh grinned. “And are you afraid they’ll somehow hear you all the way across town?”
She leveled a grim look his way. “You bet I am. I swear, if you say their name three times, they appe
ar.”
Josh chuckled before leaning in as well, though he knew nobody was there and nobody was listening to them. “What does the apartment Ruby decorated look like?”
“Like a fortune-teller’s tent, with fairy lights, dream catchers, metal moons, suns, stars, and paper lanterns hanging from the ceilings.”
“And Sherry’s?”
“Paige described it best. She says it looks like gingham and oak threw up all over it.”
“I can picture them both.”
“Whatever you’re picturing, it’s worse. Trust me.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re in charge of our building and not Ruby.” He tilted his head and thought about the months ahead. “You know, I wasn’t really paying attention to the whole remodeling process, but I’m looking forward to it now. I hadn’t even thought about it until I saw your sketches, but our office is dreary, and what we deal with is dreary enough. I’m looking forward to some color, at least. It’s like fifty shades of taupe in there.”
“I like color, too.” Gracie smiled.
“I remember.”
She blinked and looked away. “Well,” she said, twisting the doorknob in her hand. Had he made her uncomfortable?
“Well,” he repeated before clearing his throat. “I hope your time here and my campaign, win or lose, is smooth sailing. But if a few waves come up, I hope we can face them as friends, Gracie.” He left and, to his surprise, she followed him out.
Outside the night was cool, the street quiet. The moon shone on the mansion next door and Josh became momentarily mesmerized, taking in the home’s gray, oversized brick exterior, two-story rubble stone turret, slate mansard roof, and mullioned windows. It was the English manor he’d been looking at online. “Was that house here when I arrived? Or did it suddenly appear?” he asked, only half-kidding. How had he not noticed it before?
“It was dark when you arrived, but the clouds cleared. It happens sometimes.” There was a softness to her voice that made him look at her. He turned in time to see her eyes move away from him and toward the manor. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked. “It doesn’t look like it belongs here and yet here it is. Very real but also kind of like a strange dream.”
