by Karis Walsh
She couldn’t blame the ugly concrete building across the parking lot for her miserable attempts to design something—anything—for either Dougie’s client or Bailey. Ken balanced her pencil on the rim of the table and leaned her head in her hands. She rubbed her eyes and shoved her fingers through her hair before she straightened up again. Her conversation with Bailey had left her feeling more distracted than usual. She gave up the pretense of working and went to the fridge for a bottle of beer.
Bailey had sounded as unenthusiastic about the lunch as Ken felt. Joe Bently had suggested the four of them meet at Vonda’s to discuss the project in an informal setting, and he had managed to make the suggestion an iron-clad order. Ken hadn’t even bothered to argue and had accepted the meal as a chore she had to endure, just as Bailey had seemed to do.
Ken held her bottle of Widmer Brothers Hefeweizen in the small patch of sun drifting through her little window. The murky, unfiltered beer glowed like the eyes of her osprey in the light. She might have been imagining it, but Bailey had sounded happy about having lunch with her, but disappointed when she found out they would be eating with Joe and Vonda. Had she thought Ken was asking her on a date? Ken shook her head and took a drink of her beer. Ice cold and hoppy, with an aftertaste of bananas. A date with Bailey had its appeal, but Ken couldn’t lose sight of every one of her goals. She’d compromised with her car and property, following her foolish whims instead of careful plans, but she had to be more careful with her romantic plans. Bailey had all the heart Ken could want, but she was Bailey. No apologies, no masks. Ken admired her courage but didn’t have enough of her own to live life the way Bailey did. And she definitely didn’t have the strength to protect and defend Bailey when the rest of the world turned on her, challenging her right to live with such freedom and individuality.
Chapter Twelve
Bailey raced up her stairs at five minutes to eleven the next day. She had been so busy helping Dani with the morning chores and writing instructional notes, she had forgotten to leave enough time to get ready. She had been fretting about the lunch, trying to decide what her tactic should be when faced with these people who were making plans for her clinic. The passive approach obviously wasn’t working. Instead of giving up and going away, the forces of change had kept going. Ken and Dani had barged into her life and her house, and the dean was having a meaningful relationship with her answering machine.
She had opted for the aggressive approach for today’s lunch—to go on the offense and take charge of any decisions about her new annex. She had pictured herself dressed for the part, confident in her business suit and dangerous-looking spiky heels. Of course, aside from not leaving enough time to get ready, she had conveniently ignored the lack of such clothes in her closet. She pulled off her navy sweats and red-and-white baseball shirt and flipped through the hangers in her closet. She was still in her underwear when she heard Ken at the front door.
Leaving Dani to play host for a few minutes, Bailey put on a clean pair of khakis and the least wrinkly shirt she could find. Instead of the elegant hairdo she had imagined, she ran a brush through her hair and left it as it was. She paused in front of the mirror. She had wanted to look good for Ken, too. She felt put out because their lunch together had turned into a group meeting about her clinic, but she had no acceptable reason to blame Ken for her temporary misunderstanding. Still, she had wanted to make Ken wish they were eating alone.
Not going to happen. Bailey turned off the light and left the room. At least she was clean and, since she had let Dani handle the vulture this morning, she didn’t reek. Small victories, but sometimes they were all her demanding schedule allowed. She came down the stairs and paused when she saw Ken.
All thoughts of dressing to impress were moot now. No one would even notice if Bailey was in the room once they caught sight of Ken, with her eyes made even brighter in contrast to the fitted navy dress shirt she wore. Bailey’s breath hitched when she watched lines and movement play over Ken’s features—usually so composed and unhindered by emotion—as she laughed at something Dani was saying. Ken glanced in Bailey’s direction, and her laughter stopped as suddenly as if a curtain had dropped over her face.
Ken watched Bailey walk down the last of the stairs. A sleeveless pale green shirt showed the edges of her farmer’s tan. Her shoulders were pale in contrast with the rest of her arms, and the deep scooped neck of the shirt revealed tantalizing glimpses of a suntanned V and the tender-looking white skin of her chest. Ken had always liked seeing women with all-over tans, carefully cultivated in sterile tanning beds, but the markings on Bailey’s body were so much sexier. Ken could barely keep her breathing even. Bailey’s tan lines had come from being physically active outside, and Ken’s response was equally physical. She wanted to pin Bailey against the wall and lick every boundary between sun kissed and pale.
Dani cleared her throat. “So, um, I’m going to go check on some birds. You two have fun today.”
“Call if you need anything,” Bailey said as Dani walked out of the room. “We’re not far away, and I won’t be gone long.”
Ken took her arm and led her out the front door, using Bailey’s reluctance to leave without giving Dani a hundred last-minute warnings as an excuse to get her hands on her tempting skin. She kept her fingers lightly wrapped around Bailey’s upper arm until they got to the car, enjoying the feel of warm, wind-roughened skin under her palm, and reluctantly let go when she opened the passenger door for Bailey.
“It’s so clean,” Bailey said when Ken got in the driver’s seat next to her. She ran her hand over the shiny red dash and the polished knobs and dials on the white instrument panel.
Ken laughed at the sound of wonder in Bailey’s voice. “That’s because I don’t routinely use my car as a bird transport. Just the one time.”
“I can’t see you carrying sea-water-soaked nets or dirty blankets in a car like this,” Bailey said. “I suppose we have to be presentable when we arrive, but maybe we can have the top down on the way home? I like the feel of wind in my hair—it feels like I’m flying.”
“Of course,” Ken said with a smile. She usually met with protests and threats when she suggested lowering the top of her convertible. “I love the feeling, too.”
Bailey’s hands fidgeted restlessly in her lap as Ken drove toward the highway. Once she had merged onto 101, she reached over and clasped both of Bailey’s hands in her own.
“Your birds will be okay,” she said, giving Bailey’s hands a squeeze. “Like you said, we won’t be gone long.”
“I know.” Bailey pulled one hand free and patted her shirt pocket. “And I have my phone, just in case. I’ve been giving Dani more responsibility lately, so I feel more confident leaving her alone.”
Ken laced her fingers through Bailey’s. Why not? Bailey had only pulled one of her hands away from Ken’s touch. “What caused the change of heart? You were so reluctant to have her here at first.”
Bailey relaxed as much as she could with Ken’s hand in hers, resting on her thigh. She had been nervous about meeting with Ken’s boss and Vonda, but now her agitation had a different cause. She casually rubbed her thumb along the side of Ken’s and was rewarded by Ken’s audible intake of breath.
“I have a plan,” she admitted. “I’ve been looking at the drawing you made, of the tree trunk house.”
“And it inspired a plan?” Ken asked. “I knew I should have erased it when I had the chance. It wouldn’t be a good design for your annex.”
“No. It’s beautiful, but that’s not what I meant. There’s a place I used to go, before I got so busy with the sanctuary. It’s a meadow in the Olympic National Park.”
“And you want me to build a house in there? Not allowed, darling,” Ken said, keeping her eyes on the road as she took the exit for Highway 104. “Although I’m sure it would be a peaceful place to live.”
Bailey hesitated for a moment, caught in the fantasy of living alone with her birds in the middle of the national park.
Not precisely alone, since she saw Ken there, too. She shook her head, as much to dispel the image as to deny Ken’s assumption. “I thought you might be able to design my flight cages to resemble the meadow. If you’re interested, I wanted Dani to be able to manage the sanctuary while we went on a day hike.”
Interested? Right now, with her hand resting on Bailey’s soft thigh, Ken was interested in anything she might offer. Did she think it was wise to go on a long hike with her, deep in the woods? Not at all. “Sounds like fun,” she said. “Although our landscape designer might be a better choice.”
“No. I want you. I loved how you interpreted the tree trunk and came up with the design for the house. I think you can do the same with my meadow. Capture its essence, I suppose.”
Ken got snagged on I want you and slowly caught up to the rest of Bailey’s words. “You have more faith in me than is warranted, based on one little design, but I’ll do my best.”
Bailey smiled in relief. She had been hesitant about bringing up the trip, but somehow the confined quarters inside the little sports car gave her a sense of intimacy. Maybe too much intimacy. She stopped stroking Ken’s hand with her thumb and searched for a new topic.
“What made you choose architecture as a career?”
“Maybe because I never had a real home of my own, I liked the idea of designing them for other people. And other creatures and mythological beings, when I was young.” Ken moved both hands to the steering wheel as she drove across the Hood Canal Bridge. Bailey felt the strong winds buffeting the little car. “My dad worked in construction, so we went where the jobs were and usually lived in worker’s cottages and rentals. He spent his life building homes, but never owning one of his own.”
Bailey watched a seagull hover on an updraft alongside the bridge. The gray water was choppy underneath the bird, but smooth and calm on the other side of the floating bridge. She liked the idea of Ken finally designing and owning her own house, after years of living in borrowed places.
“My parents tried to stay close to Seattle during the school years, so I could stay with my friends and not have to change schools all the time,” Ken continued. “But during the summer we’d move wherever the better paying jobs were. One year, he worked out here on the Peninsula. My mom was working a temp job in Port Angeles, so I got to hang out on the construction site. I used cast-off supplies to design and build my own houses in the woods, and I fell in love with architecture.”
They drove off the bridge and continued toward Poulsbo, but Ken kept both hands on the wheel even though the winds were no longer a factor. “I hated leaving those houses behind, but I imagined fairies and woodland nymphs moving into them. Most of the designs I made when I was young had some sort of fantasy element to them.”
“I’ll bet you drew some amazing creations,” Bailey said. She wondered how someone with Ken’s talent and uniqueness had ended up drawing squares for a living. “I’d love to see some of them.”
Ken shrugged. The gesture might appear noncommittal, but she meant for it to end the discussion. Her first experiences with architecture had been solo attempts, but once she had returned to school in the fall, tanned and cocky after a summer with little supervision, she and Steve had turned her newfound hobby into a serious pursuit. But she’d keep those later years to herself. As far as anyone else was concerned, the story of her discovery of architecture was confined to that long-ago summer. “I don’t have many left,” she lied. She had them, but she had learned not to show them. Most of the time—barring her meeting with Joe—she remembered the lesson.
“What about you? What drew you to birds?” she asked as she followed Bailey’s directions and exited the highway near the Scandinavian town of Poulsbo. “Were you a Hitchcock fan when you were a child?”
“No. Turn left at the light,” Bailey said. “When I was a little kid, we had acres of woods behind our house in Bremerton. I used to play out there and pretend I lived in the trees.”
Ken had seen how Bailey had blended into the forest at Dungeness as if she belonged there. She could picture a tiny, pale version of her, with twigs and leaves in her thick auburn hair, roaming barefoot along pine-needle covered paths like a sprite.
“And then right, at the next intersection. It’s the paved driveway at the end of this road, winding through the trees.” Bailey hesitated as Ken made the turn and drove slowly down the residential street. “You know how the birds get so quiet when loud people are walking by, like they did at Dungeness when we passed those families?”
Ken glanced over at Bailey and nodded, but she knew Bailey didn’t notice her. She was lost in the past for the moment.
“They got still like that when I’d walk into the woods, but if I’d stay real quiet, they’d start to sing again. They let me know I belonged there, that they accepted me as part of their world. It was a good feeling.”
“There it is.” Bailey pointed needlessly at the huge wooden structure as they emerged from the woods and onto the Selberts’ property.
“Jesus,” Ken said softly. She hadn’t meant to break the spell woven by Bailey’s story, but the mammoth house demanded attention.
“It’s something, isn’t it? I think the poor eagle was so damned shocked by what he saw that he flew smack into the window.”
Ken laughed. She had seen a picture of the house in Joe’s office, but she had been too intent on Bailey’s ass in the eagle photo to have noticed more than its general shape. The house was designed like an A-frame, but the front jutted out toward Poulsbo’s Liberty Bay. It looked like a massive Viking ship about to head to sea. A huge blue-and-white Norwegian flag decorated its bow.
Ken got out of the car and shook hands with Joe, who had come out to greet them. Bailey was on the other side of the car being crushed in a hug by what appeared to be a Valkyrie, but must have been Vonda Selbert. Ken wanted to go to Bailey’s rescue, but Vonda let her go and turned her attention to Ken.
“So this is your hotshot architect, Joe, the one who’s going to design Bailey’s new aerie. We expect something spectacular from you, Kendall Pearson.” Vonda shook Ken’s hand. “She’s a looker, isn’t she, Bailey? No wonder you’re blushing.”
“Come in, come in,” Vonda continued, heading toward her house with her arm draped across Joe’s shoulder. “We’ll let this genius give you the grand tour of the house he designed, and then we’ll have lunch and hear all about Kendall’s plans for the rehab center.”
Bailey trailed behind with Ken, a bit overwhelmed as she always was in Vonda’s presence. “I wasn’t blushing,” she said. “I was trying to catch my breath after that hug.”
“No kidding.” Ken waved her right hand limply in the air. “I think all my fingers are broken. I’ll never draw again.”
Bailey laughed at the joke, but she saw the same closed expression she had seen on Ken’s face the day they moved the osprey to his new cage. There was a wistful tone in Ken’s voice, almost as if she wanted her words to be true. Bailey turned her attention back to the house. She must be wrong. Someone with Ken’s talent must treasure it, not want it to be gone.
Joe gave them a tour of the house—aided by Vonda’s frequent comments—and Bailey watched Ken withdraw further and further from the group. Bailey had seen the house several times already, but she enjoyed getting Joe’s perspective as the person who had designed it. The spacious house was too huge for Bailey, and she’d never have felt comfortable living in it, but it suited the Selberts perfectly. Hearing how Joe had interpreted their dreams and made them real gave Bailey a glimpse into the type of work she knew Ken must be doing for his company. She had seen Ken reinterpret nature with her tree trunk design, and she had witnessed Ken’s playful side as she drew a castle for Bailey. She would have thought the Selberts’ home would fascinate Ken like it did her, but Ken offered little more than a polite but restrained comment every time she was addressed.
Bailey went down the spiral staircase to the patio door, sliding her hand along the rough-grained surface of
the wide banister as she walked. The house was as grandly tactile as it was visually impressive. She ducked under a row of spiral-cut plastic sun catchers—just a few of the many and multicolored objects dangling across the plate-glass front of the house—and joined the others on the patio. Her curiosity about Ken’s reticence disappeared as soon as she sat down and Vonda changed the topic from her own house to the proposed annex at Bailey’s center.
“So, Kendall, tell us about your plans for the new rehab center,” Vonda said as she handed out plates laden with food.
Ken took a bite of a boiled potato stuffed with goat cheese and herbs. She wanted to put off answering for a few moments, desperately hoping she’d come up with a brilliant idea before she had to swallow the mouthful, but Vonda saved her by answering her own question.
“I’m picturing a large surgical theater with mirrors where the students can watch Bailey as she works on the birds. And a great hall with display cages so public tours can come through and see various raptors. And maybe a large classroom where she can hold summer programs for local high school students…”
Ken forgot to eat while she listened to Vonda design Bird City. She had been growing more and more desolate as she walked through Joe’s masterpiece. The house was as it should be—everything to do with Vonda Selbert and nothing like the unassuming and quiet architect who had designed it. Grand and livable and a celebration of Vonda’s Nordic heritage. Ken’s doubts about her suitability as an Impetus architect had grown in proportion with the huge house she had just toured.
She toyed with her stuffed cabbage while Vonda’s plans grew in scope. What could she say after this monologue? Well, I had an idea for a building with four equal sides and a few walls. She took a bite of the meat-filled cabbage and tried to chew while she looked for an escape route. She could run to her car and drive away before it was her turn to talk. Joe and Vonda were nice people. They’d give Bailey a ride home.
