Second Chances

by Nicole Andrews Moore

  “Huh” was all he managed to say as he considered her actions. She had asked for his housekeeper’s opinion. He could only imagine the persnickety woman’s reaction. She must have been touched. Hell, he was touched. He shook his head in disbelief.

  “Now,” she began slowly, “I know this will cost a bit more than I originally anticipated, but hear me out.” Hannah studied him for a moment. He had some silly look on his face that made her even question whether or not he was listening. Would that make him more or less likely to approve? “Are you listening to me?” She asked a little more sternly than she meant to.

  “Oh,” Gavin said, roused from his thoughts, “yes, you were saying?”

  Scowling because she hated repeating herself, Hannah began again, “It may seem like more money than you want to spend, but there are ways to make it more cost effective and bring us closer to budget.”

  “How’s that?” He asked fascinated with how her mind worked.

  “Well, for example, we can take all the cabinets and fixtures and counter that we remove and give it to Habitat for Humanity.” She waited to make sure he was on board.

  “That benefits me how?” He queried seriously.

  “They will give you a receipt for use on your taxes. It will be treated as a donation. You’ll get a break and some very fortunate people will get a nicer kitchen than they dreamed possible.” She could tell he was in agreement that the idea had merit. “So, it will take a while for you to see that savings, but in the end…”

  “Sounds good, Hannah.” He smiled at her, marveling once again at what an amazing woman she was. Always she thought of others without wondering what she had to gain. How different she was from anyone he had ever known. He sighed.

  “So, I can order everything?” She suddenly appeared timid, as though he might deny her simple request.

  If he were going ahead with his original plan, he’d be grilling her for multiple estimates, have her on a tight budget, do everything he could to torment her, cause her pain. Again he sighed. That’s what he’d do, if only he had the heart to go through with it. But no, the traitorous organ that had in years past been accused of being rendered of stone had gone mercilessly soft for Hannah, leaving him feeling exposed. At that realization, he merely muttered, “Of course” and turned his attention back to his files, filled with self-loathing.

  He tried to ignore her, couldn’t face her. Yet as the minutes ticked by, he knew that she was still seated across from him. No, the little minx was apparently not through with him yet. It took every ounce of self-restraint to hold back the sigh as he eyed her warily. “There’s something else you wished to discuss?” He asked as evenly as he could manage.

  “Ummm,” she began slowly, “would you mind if I read some of the books?” And she gestured to the titles she was admiring the night previous.

  That was all? She just wanted to read some of his books. “My books are your books,” he said quietly.

  Squealing in delight, she bound out of the seat and headed for the nearest book case. “I know just which one I want to start with,” she gushed. And she reached for Amy Tan’s The Hundred Secret Senses. Holding the novel reverently, she headed back to the chair and curled up once more to begin reading.

  Gavin simply stared at her for a moment. She had this unbridled passion for life. She lived exuberantly. And now she was going to sit across from him all night and torture him with her presence while she read. He frowned. “You don’t have to read it here. You can take it to your room, or the patio, or the hearth room…” He was ready to list off all the other more fitting places for her to spend her evening, but as he spoke she had shook her head.

  “I like it here,” she announced. “I like the way this room feels. I’ll be really quiet. I promise.” She raised her hand in a pledge. “You won’t even know I’m here.” And without waiting for his response, she turned back to the novel and began to read.

  Lifting his eyes heavenward, he clenched his fists a few times. Of course he’d know she was here. He was always utterly and profoundly aware of her presence. What bothered him even more was the thought that if she weren’t right there in front of him he’d be just as disturbed since he was also acutely aware of her absence. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate then either, wondering over where she was in the house and what she was doing. His revenge was costing him greatly.

  The kitchen needed to be packed. Hannah and Madge stood side by side eyeing the room with their hands on their hips. It was a natural pose for Hannah and Madge had, of late, begun to emulate her, a realization that rocked Hannah to her core. The excitement of the remodel was fast wearing off as the realization of the increased workload took hold. Joe had looked Hannah in the eye just the other day and announced that she was a product person.

  “What does that mean?” She had questioned, unsure of whether or not she should be insulted.

  “Well,” he said, scratching at his chin, “some people like the entire process, the problem solving, the work, the whole enchilada.” He had smiled warmly at her. “Then there’s you.”

  She had scowled at him and given him her best indignant look. “Again I ask, what does that mean?” And she had narrowed her eyes for effect.

  “Well, Miss Hannah,” Joe responded with a chuckle, clearly unmoved by her scowl or angry eyes, “you just want to get to the end result.”

  “Oh, is that all,” Hannah giggled. “Yes, well all the stuff in between is simply a necessary evil, as far as I’m concerned.” She had smiled at him then before admitting, “I’m definitely a product person.”

  Now with the kitchen scheduled for demolition the next day, there was no more putting off the inevitable. They had to pack the room. “Well, let’s get this over with,” Hannah said. “I’ll start on this side, you start on that side and we’ll meet in the middle?”

  They shook hands, grabbed their boxes, and began to pack the room. They had hastily and easily moved the food from the pantry to the shelves set up in the dining room. And the dishes were quickly packed into the boxes they had come in. By lunchtime, they really only had the drawers left to tackle.

  “How’d I get stuck with the junk drawer?” Hannah mourned as she opened the one drawer she had steered clear of ever since she had moved in.

  “Guess you’re just lucky,” Madge said with a twinkle in her eye.

  Studying her suspiciously, Hannah gasped. “Why you sneak!”

  Chuckling, she said, “Why, Miss Hannah, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Then she turned around before her face could give her away.

  After a few minutes, Hannah had sorted through the stack of menus, weeding out duplicates and discarding altogether restaurants they didn’t order from. She tossed all the loose batteries into a baggie to be tested later. Just when she was congratulating herself on making such short work of the dreaded drawer, her finger touched on something metal in the far back corner. “Hey,” she exclaimed, “what does this go to?” And she showed Madge the key she discovered.

  “Oh,” Madge began with a slight shudder, which really made the mystery all the sweeter for Hannah. “I forgot about that.”

  “Answer the question, Madge,” Hannah demanded. “Stop holding out on me.” She studied the key some more while she waited. Seeing that the old housekeeper was still hesitant about revealing the key’s purpose, she shrugged. “Fine, I’ll just ask Gavin.” And she pocketed the key before moving to seal and label the last box.

  Knowing she was thwarted, the older woman answered. “Don’t bring that key to his attention! He never goes down there. He had those rooms shut up the day she moved out, that wretched woman!” She agonized and paced. And Hannah knew that if she just waited a moment more, everything would be revealed. “It goes to India’s studio downstairs.”

  Perking up instantly, Hannah remarked, “There’s a downstairs?” And before Madge could stop her, she was heading out of the kitchen to look for this secret room, leaving the woman to scamper after her.

  Sigh
ing, Madge grabbed her hand and said, “It’s this way.” And she led Hannah out the patio door, down the steps, and around the side of the house.

  There were paving stones Hannah had never paid attention to previously that went to a glorious wooden set of French doors. Unable to mask her excitement, the thrill of discovery, Hannah danced slightly as she pulled the key from her pocket and unlocked the door. Throwing the doors wide, she stood and surveyed the space.

  A healthy layer of dust coated every surface, but still the potential was evident. There was a kiln, and shelves for drying, a wheel, and other essential pottery items that Hannah vaguely remembered from her time in the college studio. There were tools for stained glass, as well as an array of glass pieces. She walked through reverently, her fingers gently skimming over various items as she passed.

  “Wow.” It was all she could say after examining the room. It seemed inadequate for someone with her extensive vocabulary, but somehow the room rendered her speechless. She beamed at Madge. “Thank you for showing me the studio.” And without thinking, she moved to give the housekeeper a warm hug that left the woman shocked and pleased.

  “The place hasn’t been used since that woman left.” She never called India by name, simply referred to her as ‘that woman’ or something to that effect. “Do you do…any of this?” She asked carefully as she gestured about the space.

  Nodding happily, Hannah admitted, “Some. I had more passion than talent. But I’m told that with practice…” Her voice trailed off as she imagined the possibilities.

  “Then practice,” the housekeeper urged. “The room should be yours.” Her face turned serious. “But Mr. Meyers can never know you use this. Understood?”

  Hannah shook hands with Madge and felt her second wind take hold. She knew she wouldn’t be able to rest until the room was cleaned and ready for her use. She smiled as she thought about what she would create first.

  Just after five that afternoon, Hannah dialed Amy’s cell phone. To her surprise, her call was answered almost immediately. “Amy!” She squealed, eager to reveal her good fortune. Her best friend listened indulgently while she relayed the details of her day. Finally, she paused. “You’re not yourself, Ames. What’s wrong?” The concern in her voice was evident.

  “I hate that I have to tell you this,” Amy began. She made a noise that was reminiscent of a growl, before continuing. “I received notice from Brett’s lawyer a few days ago.” She paused to get a sense of how Hannah was taking the news thus far.

  “Well, spit it out,” she said seriously. “Tell me like a Band-Aid.” It was code for them, their own special language. Tell her as quickly as possible. Out with it, no matter how badly it would hurt.

  “Okay,” Amy said, “here goes.” She took a deep fortifying breath before continuing. “We have a hearing set for next week. Brett is contesting the amount of child support and he refuses to pay alimony altogether. There.”

  Hannah could hear the rustling of papers and the squeak of Amy’s leather office chair. “So,” she began quietly. “How does it look for me?”

  “It’s mostly a technicality. This happens all the time. The guy refuses to pay. The woman has to fight him. It’s going to be a huge hassle. You’ll have to provide documentation, which shouldn’t be a problem since you’re so organized. And he’ll try to keep this in court for as long as possible to make you suffer without money.” She sighed. “It’s an ugly game, one that I hate playing,” she swallowed hard, “especially when it’s my best friend who’s involved.”

  “Oh, Ames,” Hannah murmured. “It’ll be all right. I’ll gather whatever you say. We’ll be prepared. Don’t worry. I have the utmost confidence in your abilities.” She nodded even though her friend couldn’t see. “Um hm.”

  Sighing, Amy conceded, “You’re right. I’m really good.” There was a moment of clicking keyboard sounds. “So, I just sent you an email detailing what you need to bring. Check it out and get back to me, okay?”

  “No problem,” Hannah assured her. She glanced at the clock once more. Gavin would be home soon and she still had to run and pick up the girls while she grabbed take out. “I’ll be in touch soon. I promise.” And with that, she hung up the phone.

  Grabbing the keys off the rack for the SUV Gavin had leased for her, she made her way out to the garage. Driving gave her plenty of time to consider what Amy had said. For Hannah, when Brett was involved, it was easy for her to imagine the worst-case scenario. She knew he’d make it unpleasant, even though he was the one who instigated the process. Trying to ward off the sadness she could feel taking hold, she decided instead to focus on the positive in her life.

  For one thing, she had quality time with her girls. She smiled. She loved their new routine, their nightly ritual, the order she depended on to function. They were fortunate to have found Gavin and his generous nature to share his incredible house. All of their basic needs were being met. And even though she would never be rich, because of this job she was now able to pay off all her debts and even begin to put small increments away. At least she would be able to be independent in the future. The more she focused on these thoughts, the more she felt her spirit lift.

  By the time she reached the preschool, she was practically beaming. The girls raced toward her, new finger paintings in hand. Clearly that talent was one inherited from their mother; she thought sarcastically as she studied with great interest the pictures she had been handed. Almost instantly she realized that the girls had done renderings from the book she read them each night.

  “Is this a baobab?” She asked Rory, who beamed and nodded her head, pig tails bobbing. “Very nice. I knew what it was immediately!”

  Studying the second picture, she smirked. “I know just what this one is, Zoe.” She smiled down at the little girl who anxiously awaited her approval.

  The little girl elbowed her sister. “Told you,” she whispered. She looked at her mother expectantly. “What is it, Mommy?” Her eyes were sparkling with excitement.

  “This is a boa constrictor eating an elephant.” She smiled broadly at the girls. Maybe they were really listening after all. And just as quickly, the moment passed.

  Choruses of ‘what’s for dinner’ followed her to the vehicle and she frowned. In her zeal to leave the house, she had forgotten to call in for takeout. This was one of the times she regretted not having a cell phone. Glancing at her watch, she sighed. It was going to have to be either pizza or Chinese, anything else would take too long. Another sigh, she didn’t even know what Gavin liked on his pizza or his Chinese take out preferences. “Well, crapalapa,” she moaned, to the girls’ delight. For some reason they took great pleasure in the words their mother chose to spew in stressful moments.

  Nearly forty-five minutes later, she pulled into the driveway only to find Gavin pacing agitatedly in the foyer. Seeing her struggle with the pizza boxes, he quickly forgot his wrath and moved to her aid.

  “Thank you,” Hannah said, genuinely appreciating his efforts. “I’m sorry I was gone longer than expected. I forgot to call the order in before I left and it took that much longer to have to wait for it…” She prepared to continue in her already lengthy explanation of her expedition, but was interrupted.

  “And that is why I’m giving you this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a new iPhone in a blue Otter Box.

  Leaning over, Hannah stared at the device he held in his hand. It was precisely the color she would have chosen had she been able to pick for herself. And the style was more high-tech than she would ever have been able to afford. As much as she longed to touch it, she couldn’t bring herself to do so. She wasn’t used to presents. She wasn’t used to being treated so well by a man, let alone an employer. Slowly, she shook her head. Her pride simply would not allow her to accept it.

  “What do you mean?” He asked in a voice laced with confusion, “What’s the head shaking all about?”

  Struggling to find the words, she began slowly, “I can’t accept this.” And s
he turned and marched up the steps to her bedroom.

  A moment later, he heard the door click shut behind her. He stared up the stairs, trying to understand. What could he have done to offend her? And what made her think she could turn down his gift? Scowling, he dropped the pizza boxes on the dining room table, headed up the stairs and stopped in front of her door. His fist was poised to knock when the door swung open abruptly. They were both startled but he managed to find his words first.

  “You have to take the phone,” he argued.

  Drawing a shaky breath, Hannah said, “Can’t we discuss this after dinner? I just realized the girls are probably in the dining room staring at pizza boxes.” She offered a weak smile.

  He frowned. “There’s nothing to discuss.” Folding his arms in front of his chest, he continued, “I need to be able to reach you. You need a phone for safety reasons.” He was prepared to tick off more explanations for the exorbitant gift, but stopped when he saw her eyebrow arch.