by Sally Falcon
“It makes perfect sense if you keep an open mind,” Jessie called after her as Gina stomped away toward her drawing board.
“Yes, one of us should keep an open mind. It could be that the man is going out of town to cover the basketball play-offs this weekend.” She turned around with a triumphant smile at her sudden inspiration. “I remember the Four-T’s discussing it last night. He isn’t going to be in town, so naturally he couldn’t ask you out.”
Suddenly Jessie felt a surge of hyperactivity. It had nothing to do with the curl of pleasure in her abdomen at the mention of Trevor’s busy schedule, she told herself fiercely and got up to finish the inventory. She had to keep busy this afternoon. The Garrison estimate could be done at home, since she didn’t have any other plans. Tossing old pattern books and carpet samples around was just what she needed to relieve her frustrations and keep her mind on her work.
“Tory, I need your help.” Trevor didn’t bother to wait for his sister’s greeting after she picked up the phone.
“Why?” she asked in a groggy voice.
“Don’t worry, it isn’t illegal or immoral,” he assured her with a chuckle. Of course, if she even guessed his purpose, she would refuse. But then she didn’t know that Jessie DeLord had a penchant for Victorian decor. He’d only learned it this afternoon when he visited her office and saw the pictures and bric-a-brac among the potted plants and the ultra-modern decor.
“Okay, what is it?” she demanded with a sister’s impatience.
“Who do I contact about the Quapaw Quarter Tours?”
“What?”
He held the phone away from his ear at her shriek of surprise. House tours in Little Rock’s historic area apparently were not what Tory expected. “You remember the annual spring tours of the Quapaw Quarter?” he asked. “You did some catering for them last year, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but why do you want to know, and at eleven-thirty at night?”
“Since I’m finally almost finished with the renovations, I thought I might offer my house for the Candlelight Tour. They did a piece on one of the old homes tonight on the news.”
“Call the Villa Marre, dumbie. You know the house they film on “Designing Women” for Julia Sugarbaker’s home and design firm? It’s only a few blocks from where you live.” He held his breath in case Tory made the design connection, but he relaxed again when she continued speaking. “The Quapaw Quarter Association headquarters is there. Somebody there can tell you who is chairing the tours this year.”
“Great.” He wrote down the information, smiling foolishly in anticipation.
“Is that all you wanted?” she asked abruptly.
“Yeah, that’s it. I’m taking off tomorrow for the play-off games in Washington, D.C., and wanted to get this done before I left,” he assured her, wondering if he could just hang up before he blurted out his brilliant plan.
“Can I go now, Trev?” She was past losing patience with him.
“Say good-night to Logan for me, will ya, Tor?” He had no idea if he was making a wild guess or not, but it would make his sister mad enough not to think about this phone call later. Her only answer was the crack of her receiver being slammed into place.
Maybe he had made a lucky guess, he thought with a shrug as he hung up more gently. He’d worry about Tory and her Yankee later; right now he had more important matters to consider.
He’d ridden a euphoric high for hours after leaving Jessie, only to lose his edge the second he got to work and remembered his trip out of town. Basketball was the last thing he wanted to think about. How was he going to keep her thinking about him if he was over a thousand miles away? He was still worrying over the situation when Tina did a piece on one of the old houses that had been part of a legal battle recently, and suddenly he thought of his solution.
While he’d been waiting in Jessie’s office he had idly noticed a number of Richard DeSpain’s pen-and-ink drawings of the older homes in Little Rock as well as pictures displaying Victorian architecture in other cities. His Jessie was a decorator, so wouldn’t she be willing to decorate a newly renovated home in the Quarter? His intuition told him he was on the right track, especially if the house was going to be part of the annual tours. A decorator wouldn’t be able to resist the lure of showing off her work, would she?
Hopefully not Jessica DeLord, he determined, looking around at his bedroom’s Spartan furnishings. When he’d inherited the house from his great-aunt, he’d put the furniture worth saving in storage. All he had now was a bed, dresser, a nightstand, and a trunk with a television set on it. Jessie would be able to furnish the entire place. A decorator’s dream, he was sure. If that didn’t work, he would have to devise another plan when he got back from Washington.
“Did I just hear you accept a date?” Gina asked with suspicion as she walked out of the storeroom after lunch. “Trevor only left town three days ago.”
“And?” Jessie couldn’t wait to hear this rationale.
“You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“For what? Trevor Planchet is simply a man I’ve seen three times,” she returned, wondering what interesting plans her friend had been dreaming up. “You aren’t seriously suggesting that I’m betraying him.”
“Well, no,” Gina had the grace to admit, “but I would think candidate number four will be awfully dull after Trevor. Is this one another lawyer?”
“No, I don’t want to take another chance on the legal profession right now. Wes is an accountant—” Jessie didn’t get a chance to say any more because Gina’s laughter drowned her out.
“Poor number four doesn’t stand a chance,” she sputtered, then started to laugh once more. When she could speak again, she barely managed, “An accountant? Does he wear a bow tie and a nerd pack?”
“He’s six-foot-two, weighs one hundred and ninety pounds, and works out four times a week,” Jessie informed her, not able to suppress her smirk. “Remember, if stereotypes were factual, we’d be two gay men.”
“Okay, that was nasty. Where did you pick up this one?” Her tone implied that Jessie had been trolling the gutters.
“I met him at the health club, that’s why I know how much he weighs.” She was saved from hearing Gina’s retort by the sound of the door chimes. They both turned to see a slim, older woman entering the office. Automatically Jessie and Gina moved toward the sitting room area at the front of the office. Their visitor was glancing around with a curious look on her face.
“Hello, I’m Jessie DeLord and this is Gina Caryle, partners at Aesthetics, Ltd. How can we help you?” Jessie thought the woman looked familiar but couldn’t quite place her.
“Oh, I am in the right place, then I’m Marquerite Langford-Hughes,” she explained, offering a slender, perfectly manicured hand. Her slender face was still marred by a look of consternation.
Returning Mrs. Langford-Hughes’s handshake, Jessie exchanged “The Look” with Gina. They were in the presence of one of Little Rock’s social elite. The lady was involved in every important charity function in the city, a perennial personality on the society pages of the newspaper. If the Langford-Hugheses weren’t at a function, then it wasn’t important. Old money was on both sides of the family for generations. What had Aesthetics, Ltd. done to deserve this?
“I’m sorry for just barging in like this, but time is so short,” the lady announced, her smile genuine. “I’ve so much to do in the next few weeks, and now this has come up.”
“Won’t you sit down, Mrs. Langford-Hughes, and we can discuss this over a cup of tea?” Jessie indicated the royal-blue leather couch as Gina scurried to the credenza.
“Thank you, my dear, that’s just what I need. I’ve been running around all morning.” She stepped gingerly over to the couch and sat down, looking almost surprised at the comfort of the couch. “But I’m such a scatterbrain. You have no idea why I’m here, do you?”
“No, ma’am.” Jessie sat in the chair next to her just as Gina returned with the tea tray. Jessie was
finding the suspense building about this mysterious visit as she helped her partner serve tea.
“What a lovely tea service. Is it a family piece?” Mrs. Langford-Hughes inquired as Gina placed the teapot back on the tray.
“Yes, it’s been in my husband’s family for years. It was a wedding present from his grandmother,” Gina responded with pride. “I believe it’s a Tiffany design from the 1870s.”
“I think I’m beginning to understand now. The modern office furnishings threw me for a moment,” their visitor declared, her glance taking in the various pictures on the wall. Then she burrowed in her oversized purse for a packet of papers that was sandwiched between two pieces of cardboard. “You don’t just do contemporary decor.”
“Most of our corporate clients prefer it,” Gina responded, sounding as if they worked with every major corporation in central Arkansas. “We do like to work with any client’s preference, however.”
Jessie shrugged as Gina gave her a questioning look. She didn’t have the foggiest idea where this interview was heading. At least it seemed to be an interview for a commission.
“I should get to the point and not keep you young ladies from your other business.” She drew the rubber band off the packet in her hand as she spoke. “I’m chairing the Quapaw Quarter Tours this spring, which I’m sure you’re familiar with. We’ve been handed such a plum for the Candlelight Tour this year, even if it was at the last minute. The Dalrymple house is in the process of being completely renovated, and your firm was suggested as the decorator.”
“We were?” Jessie and Gina chorused, amazed at what had been said.
“Yes, the only catch is the house needs to be completely done, as you can see from these photographs,” she explained and handed them pictures that depicted exterior shots and each of the house’s eleven rooms. “I understand there are a few family pieces in storage, but most of the furniture will have to be ordered. The only thing that has been done so far are the hardwood floors. The place needs drapes, wallpaper, paint, who knows what else.”
“Oh, Jess, it has a gazebo.” Gina handed her the picture and eagerly took another from Mrs. Langford-Hughes. “This place is incredible.”
“I know, but can we do it?” Jessie could just picture what she would do with the dining room. The house was an early Queen Anne embellished by shingle work and more ornate Eastlake cutwork on the cantilevered tower and the trim across the front of the house and central gable. The porch that ran across the front of the house and down one side possessed turned posts and balusters as well as a turret roof in one corner. Work had already begun on scraping away old paint to give the exterior a much-needed face-lift.
“Not ‘we,’ you,” her partner replied. “Except for my family heirlooms, I don’t know half of what you do about Victorian interiors. This would be great practice for your dream house. You’ve always said you wanted to get involved with the tours anyway.”
“Lovely. Then, it’s settled,” Mrs. Langford-Hughes declared before delving into her purse to pull out a legal-sized envelope. “Here are the keys. The owner is out of town but did say that you should go ahead with measurements and whatnot and have the contract ready next week. The house will have to be ready by the first weekend in May, so time is of the essence.”
“But, Mrs. Langford-Hughes—”
“Don’t worry, my dear, you’ll do just fine. You came with a high recommendation from the owner.” The lady rose majestically to her feet with the pronouncement and headed for the door. “I really must dash now. I have a meeting at Children’s Hospital in ten minutes. So nice to meet you; I’ll be in touch.”
“But, Mrs. Langford—” But the woman was out the door, oblivious to Jessie’s voice. “This is strange. I thought she might be here about Symphony House, but it’s the wrong time of year,” she murmured, dropping back into her chair. The fund raiser sponsored by the Symphony had a different design firm do each room of the house, but that was in the fall of each year.
She never expected to hear about the Quapaw Tours. The residential area immediately east and south of downtown Little Rock represented most of the architectural styles from the early 1800s to post World War II, including the Governor’s Mansion. During the last thirty years, local residents had been slowly reclaiming the area that took its name from the Quapaw Line, a geographic division to separate the settlers from the native Quapaw Indians’ lands. The Quapaw Quarter tours had become an Event, especially the gala Candlelight Tour.
“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“Gift horse? Did you hear what she said? I have less than six weeks to do an entire house,” Jessie said in wonder, trying not to look at the photographs, “if I take the job.”
“You’re a fool not to do it. We don’t start the physical work on Planchet Enterprises until mid-June.” Gina began tallying their clients on her fingers. “Garrison’s is only at the estimate stage along with Devon’s Jewels. We’re just finishing up the other three jobs. Can you really resist this tower, plus a turret in the back, and all that beautiful woodwork?”
“No, I can’t,” she admitted in defeat. This was going to be a lot of extra work, but she would love every minute of it. By keeping her schedule busy she also wouldn’t have time to think about Trevor Planchet. He would be out of sight and out of mind for good. She would have a lovely house to decorate and would be able to get on with the business of finding a father for her future child.
Chapter Four
“This place is absolutely wonderful!” Gina exclaimed while turning in a complete circle to inspect the entry hall of the Dalrymple house. They had not been able to visit the house for two days after Mrs. Langford-Hughes’s visit but had finally cleared their schedules for this afternoon.
“You’ve only seen two rooms and the front porch.” Jessie couldn’t contain her amusement, acknowledging for perhaps the hundredth time that her friend’s impetuous nature helped their partnership work as well as their friendship. She tempered Jessie’s more cautious mind. Gina, however, wasn’t exaggerating this time, she decided, walking through the walnut-trimmed archway into the large living room area. The owner had worked very carefully to preserve the original woodwork and decorative features in the house.
“Come on out here.” Gina’s excitement seemed to have increased tenfold. “You aren’t going to believe this.”
Jessie followed the sound of her voice through the dining room, pausing to admire the newly polished brass chandelier before stepping through the wide doorway that led to the back of the house. What had once been a parlor in the back turret had been converted into a den across from an informal dining area and the modernized kitchen. “What has captured your fancy now? It took me ten minutes to get you off the glider on the front porch to come inside.”
Gina was standing one level below her near the sliding glass door that overlooked the backyard. As she went down the four steps to the next level, Jessie could tell from the new flooring and absence of ornate woodwork at the windows and baseboards that the two rooms at the back had been added.
“Get a load of this,” Gina said. “I don’t think any Victorian had this in mind.”
Her partner’s lips were twitching as she gestured to an area at the left. At a single glance, Jessie knew why. Victorian morals certainly would not have approved of the sauna that was nestled in the small room that opened onto the back deck. She was pleased with the owner’s sense of style in combining the old and new without compromising the integrity of the house.
“That wasn’t in any of the pictures,” Jessie commented dryly, already selecting decorative plants and considering a stained-glass skylight in the ceiling. Then she opened the sliding glass door that led out onto the wooden deck and stepped outside.
From the front of the house there had been no sign of recent construction. The owner had complemented the earlier period here as well. A planked deck ran along the back of the house from the end of the original porch, then jutted out to the left, leaving two thirds o
f the rectangular yard to frame the gingerbread carvings of the gazebo in the back. Only a two-story garage remained. At one time there had undoubtedly been other outbuildings. From the smell of new wood, the deck and fence that encircled the yard for privacy had been the most recent additions.
“I think I’m in love.” Jessie let out an ecstatic sigh, sinking down onto the top step that led down from the deck to the yard, which was in the process of being landscaped. “This is going to be a fantastic job. Can I stop doing everything else and just move in here for the duration?”
“Fat chance.”
“Somehow I knew you’d say that,” Jessie returned good-naturedly. They had taken on two more clients in the past few days, one who had been recommended by a member of Planchet Enterprises’ board. With the recent upsurge in business, they finally were planning to hire a part-time employee to handle their mounting paperwork.
“I might be open to a bribe, however.” Her partner sounded just a little too eager to have her palm crossed with silver. Jessie didn’t trust her one bit.
“So what is your price, my avaristic friend?”
“Ah, you can afford me. All you have to do is talk to Trevor the next time he calls,” Gina stated, giving her friend a stern look. “He’s been chalking up a lot of long-distance charges by calling you in the middle of the day from Washington, and with no result. Why not cut him some slack?”
“Why?” Jessie didn’t think she needed any further defense of her actions. Trevor had called twice. Both times she had refused point blank to take the calls, though Gina had been very chatty. There wasn’t any point for Jessie to encourage him. He did not fit into her plans. Her dinner two nights ago with Wes Lendall had been very pleasant, proving to her, if not Gina, that her plan of finding a husband had potential.
