Dave picked up his cell and hit a button. “Shae? Just heard from Reuben Triggs.” He relayed what he’d told Ned. When he hung up, he gave Ned a grim smile. “She’s gonna call him. What d’ya think? Will she be able to change his mind?”
“She’ll certainly give it a try.”
Ten minutes later, Shae burst through the door. Noting Ned, she said, “Good. You’re here, too. Dave’s brought you up to speed on the concrete situation?”
Ned nodded. “Did you get hold of Triggs?”
“I started to call him, and then it occurred to me if he’s behind on his current project, and you said it’s with the government, a heated call from me probably won’t accelerate things. But maybe if we sweeten the pot, we’ll get his attention.”
Who was this person? When had she started to go after her prey with molasses instead of vinegar? “How… Wait…what’s with the look?”
“Well, Mr. MegaEntertainer, I think it’s time to scatter some of that stardust surrounding you.”
A baffled Dave said, “Huh?”
But Ned caught her drift. “You think I should hand out free CDs and hold an autograph session for his crew, concrete-studded arms and all?”
“Bingo! Maybe not that exactly, but something they won’t get if they don’t make it here until next week.”
“Too bad I can’t sing yet,” he said, for a lot more reasons than simply to charm a concrete crew. “That might help.”
“We treated our folks to a free lunch when things didn’t go well for me at our first staff meeting. What if we offered Triggs and company something similar, only made it free hotdogs and beer after work for not only them but also their families?”
A cash register ka-chinged in his head. Lunches cost money. His money. On the other hand, a casual wienie roast would cost far less than to wait another few days on the foundations. “Call him. Let’s get those foundations poured.”
She went to work, used catch phrases from his book on the uncooperative sub. “That’s right, Reuben, the offer’s only good for tonight. Jake may have to leave for the coast soon and can only guarantee his presence for the next few days.”
She hung up, beamed. “We’re back on schedule.”
“What do you know?” Ned observed. “I think you passed the second lesson in Leadership 101.”
“Second lesson? What was the first?”
“Always give the client what he wants.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The day after the impromptu hotdog bash, Ned stood with Shae and Dave to the side of his mother’s lot and watch musty-smelling concrete rain down the chute. Reuben Triggs’ crew guided the stuff over the footings that would form the basement floor and into the pans that would form the basement walls. Since they’d managed to keep Triggs and crew on the original schedule, his adrenaline rush had diminished, and left in its wake a restless impatience. “So now we play the waiting game again while the concrete cures,” he groused.
“Three weeks at least, Ned,” a patient Dave explained.
“There’s nothing we can do in the meantime? How ’bout the schedule for the subs after the framing?”
Dave spun around as he made his way toward the trailer. “All lined up and double-checked.”
“Why don’t you go back to the coast for a bit?” Shae suggested. “Check in with your friend, Mike. I heard he returned to L.A. right after the showing at your mom’s gallery.”
Though she’d been a knockout in that red dress at the event, Ned was relieved she was back in her jeans and shirt. His testosterone flowed just a little slower when he saw her in work clothes. Just a little, but he needed the edge, so he wouldn’t fantasize about what lay beneath. His obligation to escort her to the showing now met, he was free of all further non-work interactions with the woman. Free. Right. As long as he kept his libido in check.
As for her suggestion, she had no idea how much he wanted to make things right with Mike, but he didn’t intend to set her straight. “We argued. Probably too soon to approach him.”
“Mike seemed upset about your new backer. Is he the one you told me about but wouldn’t name? Is there a problem with the guy?”
“Mike doesn’t like him, that’s all.”
“How come?”
She probably had a right to wonder about the continuing health of his finances, but he didn’t want to get into this with her any more than with Mike. Half the story. He’d give her that and hope it would be enough to reassure her. “I collapsed on stage at a benefit for Irv Farley. He’d placed me outside on the beach in the cool night air instead of inside the house, as he promised. Since I’d already been experiencing problems with my throat, Mike didn’t want me to risk it, but I wouldn’t listen.”
“What else is new?”
He let her comment slide. “Didn’t want to anger the guy and jeopardize my chance to gain his buy-in on the project, in case I needed it at some later time. Which is what happened. Remembering that night still sends ice through my veins.”
“Oh.” She didn’t say more.
Had she bought it? “I doubt I’ll go west right now. There’s a piece that’s really got me excited.”
“Good. Go work on your music. There’s no more to see or do around here for a while.”
Could she be any more obvious in her efforts to get rid of him? He went about ten feet, then stopped and returned. “You want to hear it, once I’ve got a little more done?”
She returned a broad smile. “I’d love to!”
He rarely got to see those blue-greens light up like that. Still, why had he made the offer? He rarely showcased his work until every last measure was perfect. Not even for his mother.
****
Even though the company still had smaller projects to oversee while they waited to frame the houses in Sullivan’s Creek, Shae had more free time during this period to visit her father. Ever since Ned took it upon himself to drop in on the man, she’d made it a point to stay in closer touch with her dad, though trips to Blackhawk Hills challenged her at times.
She was about to enter the sunroom on one of the mornings of her temporary respite, when she noticed her father wasn’t alone. Janice Collier had apparently made good on her offer to visit.
Shae held back. Didn’t want her father to think Janice’s visit was something the two of them had cooked up. Although they had.
Janice approached the patient. “Mr. Harriman?”
“That’s me. Who are you, another of the counselors that Park woman foists on me?”
Before she answered, Janice pulled up a nearby ottoman and settled in front of him. She clasped her hands in her lap and leaned forward. “You have something against counseling?”
“A counseling-type question, if I ever heard one.”
Shae started into the room to rescue her new friend before her father scared her off but jerked to a stop and backed up behind the door as Janice held her own.
“My approach to small talk.” She held out her hand. “I’m Janice Collier, Ned’s mother.”
Shae’s father seemed to consider the information but still followed through on the handshake. “Your son send you? Figure he was no longer in my good graces?”
“Ned isn’t aware of this visit. I met your daughter recently, and she told me you were here. I thought you might like some company.” Janice took in the rest of the sunroom. “This place is almost a resort. I like how the morning sun streams through the windows. And that huge flat screen TV. I could easily spend a few days in residence here myself.”
Shae’s father harrumphed. “Few days, maybe. Not weeks, like it’s been for me. I’d prefer to be home.”
“I detect frustration.”
“Oh, you’re definitely a counselor, lady. That last statement was a dead giveaway. Reflective, they call it. I’ve picked up their happy talk.”
“Believe what you will.”
He stretched his shoulders, rubbed the back of his neck. “So? What’s the story? Why are you here?”
�
��I came to ask a favor.”
“Now you sound like your son.”
She gave him a curious look but didn’t follow up on his comment. “Actually, I own an art gallery and I’m doing a series of classes for men. It’s not been easy to convince men to sign up or stick with it once they have.”
He shot from his chair. “You want me to paint pictures of fruit?”
Shae stepped from her hiding place. Time to referee.
But Janice wasn’t to be deterred. “Heavens, no! I need your advice. Tell me what I’m doing wrong to attract, well, to keep, male students.”
“Advise you? Forget it. I’m not about to rope in some unsuspecting guy to take your fruity class.” Nonetheless, he settled back into his chair.
“My class covers more than still life, although painting pictures of fruit isn’t as easy as some might think.”
“C’mon. An apple’s an apple. A circle with a lot of red and a little black.”
“Really?” She gazed at his pile of papers. “Any blank pages in there?”
He thumbed through the stack, removed one. “Here. Sketch your heart out.”
“Not me. You.” She flipped open her bag and quickly removed what from Shae’s vantage point appeared to be felt tip markers.
“I know what you’re up to, lady. Get me to draw.”
“No way. I just want to show you it’s not as easy as you think to draw an apple.”
What was Janice up to? Shae hadn’t bargained for her dad to get into art.
Though he muttered, Tim Harriman uncapped one of the markers Janice held out to him and started to scribble. Within seconds he pronounced, “See.” He handed Janice the sheet of paper.
She examined his work. “Uh-huh. Interesting.”
“Interesting? That’s an apple. Anyone could recognize it.”
“It does resemble an apple though not a real-life one.”
“You’re nuts. Of course, it looks like one.”
She scrunched her eyes, as she sought the right word to reply. “Okay, we’ll call it an apple. So, how did you feel as you drew that piece of fruit?”
He slapped his thighs. “Feel? Must everything around here be connected to feelings?”
“I don’t know about here, but you just experienced the first lesson in my class. You reacted about the same as my students. Insulted. Contentious. Ready to walk. Only half showed up the next week.”
“And you wonder why?”
“Seemed like a good way to get my point across. What did I do wrong?”
Not the helpless female routine, Janice. He’ll see right through it.
“Since you think you have to talk about feelings, make them feel good about themselves.”
“I didn’t expect perfect products. I just wanted them to realize that painting still life wasn’t easy.”
“Then find a way to do it without shredding their egos.”
She paused, appeared to think through his statement. “How?”
Shae held her breath, waited for the anticipated outburst from her dad.
It didn’t materialize. Instead, he replied, “Get rid of the damned markers. Have them use brushes, the real thing. Give ’em each an apple to work from, something to use as a reference, not just loosy-goosy ideas. Don’t you check their work and give them that snooty nose. Have them judge each other’s work.”
Janice tapped her index finger against her chin. “Good suggestions, although I didn’t mean to sound snooty.”
“Then don’t. The worst thing you can do is talk down to ’em. Talk like ’em.”
“I was married for over twenty years and raised a son. You make it sound like I didn’t learn a thing about men.”
He shrugged. “Not how to talk to ’em.” He eyed her. “Sure not how to dress for a man.”
Shae winced at her dad’s reference to the shirred floral skirt and yellow overblouse Janice wore today. The “real” Tim Harriman, the blunt, no-nonsense one, had shown up for this discussion.
Janice chuckled. “I’d be insulted if you weren’t right. I recently decided a wardrobe makeover was in order. Just haven’t gotten to it yet.”
“Time’s ticking.”
Could her dad be more insensitive?
“Right. Which reminds me.” She glanced at her watch. “Time to go. Thanks for the advice.”
She pivoted away from him before he said, “Hey, uh, Janice. My comments about your clothes didn’t chase you away, did they? That’s just me. You have trouble talking to men. I guess the same goes for me. With women.”
Her dad had actually apologized to a woman?
Janice swiveled back to Shae’s dad. “No offense taken. I have another appointment and need to get back to the gallery.”
“If you want, come back again sometime and run the rest of that lesson by me. I’ll critique it.”
“Tomorrow soon enough? The class is Friday night.”
“Guess I can work you in. And it’s Tim.”
Shae ducked into a nearby room before Janice left the sunroom. Didn’t want either her dad or Janice to discover she’d eavesdropped. If she hadn’t witnessed the scene with her own eyes, she wouldn’t have believed it. Her dad had done his best to drive off Janice, but in the end he’d apologized for his gruff manner.
What did Janice know that she didn’t?
Shae slipped away from the rehab facility and didn’t return for two more days. When she did come back, the scene before her defied belief. She found her father seated in front of an easel in the sunroom, paintbrush in hand. He had created what appeared to be a red ball.
“Don’t say it. I’ve expanded my horizons, whether I want to or not.”
Thank you, Janice. I didn’t think you could do it. She leaned in to examine his work. “An apple, right?”
“Well, duh. What else would it be?”
“Nothing, I guess. What kind? Macintosh? Red Delicious?”
He withdrew the brush, swiveled his head in her direction. “Who knows? Who cares? Why are you here in the middle of the day anyhow?”
“Have a little more time than usual while the foundations settle.”
“The doc called, didn’t he?”
He had her dead to rights. An hour earlier, she’d learned from his physician her dad could be released from the rehab facility in a few days. Even though she’d known her dad could finish the rest of his recuperation at home sooner or later, the information still caught her up short. She assumed her most cheerful tone. “I talked to him this morning. Good news, isn’t it?”
“S’pose he gave you the list of everything I’m not allowed to do yet? Or eat?”
She settled next to the easel, so she could attempt to read his expressions. “Yeah. He emailed me.”
“Might as well stay here, for all the freedom I’ll have.”
“You’ll be on your own, for the most part.”
“You gonna continue to stay there?”
“I guess. If you’re okay with that.”
“What about your apartment?”
“Long gone. I was on my way out of town when you went to the hospital, remember? I can probably find other temporary housing, if you’d prefer.”
For the first time, he gazed directly at her. “No, stay. I could use the company.”
“You won’t be totally on your own. A physical therapist is supposed to stop by twice a week and a home health nurse once a week.”
“Oh, goody. Fool wouldn’t tell me when I can go back to work. Visitors limited to two at a time, which includes that woman you sent to harass me. Janice Something.”
He didn’t sound all that upset about Janice. Nor had he forgotten her name, as he made out. “Collier. She’s Ned’s mother. She runs the Serenity Art Gallery.”
“Collier, yeah, that’s it. She asked for my help with an art class.”
“Really?” How Janice had pulled off such a feat, she had no idea. “You’ve agreed to teach? Tell me more.”
“Me, a teacher?” he harrumphed. “No way. I’m he
r consultant.” He told her how Janice had asked him to act as a guinea pig, try out the week’s lesson in advance of her students, so he could give her the male viewpoint.
Never underestimate Janice Collier. To get Tim Harriman to paint still life was brave. To get him to be the pre-class tester was absolutely brilliant.
Out of the blue, he said, “I heard about your wienie roast.”
Should have known. The Dave Hale Gazette had struck again. If Janice could slough off his attitude, maybe she could, too. “You mean the hotdog bribe to get Triggs and his crew out to the site on time? Crazy, huh? But it was the best I could come up with on short notice. Ned didn’t want to wait any longer.”
To her surprise, he replied, “Not bad. I’d never have done it, but I can holler a lot better than you.”
“About that—”
“Hollering? God, I hope you haven’t followed your old man’s tricks.”
So he knew about that incident, too. “Tried to. At first. I didn’t have much practice at supervising people, let alone running the whole operation. I went with what I knew, which was what I’d learned from you, and that was, uh, to shout.”
“How’d that work for you?”
“How do you think? They stormed out of the meeting.” He didn’t push for details. Of course, he knew. “No surprise there, right? Your information pipeline beats the evening news.”
“You got ’em back, though.”
“Dave got them back while I sat there and kept my mouth shut.”
“Not so easy, is it?”
“How would you know? You issue orders and expect people to fall in line. You’ve never had to sit back and let someone else save your bacon.”
“If only.”
That stopped her. “You’ve had to eat your words at some point?”
“Of course, I have, girlie. Although maybe not so much recently, since I’ve built a reputation that encourages folks not to talk back. Besides, you’re a girl. Even though you’ve grown up in this business, you should’ve known the guys would be out to test you.”
She pulled back, stared at him. “You threw me into all that with no preparation. Did you expect me to fail?”
He set the brush down, wiped it on a rag, avoided her gaze.
Tough Enough to Tango Page 22
