Alfred Jones – Fifteen Months Later
I stood looking out at the sparkling expanse of Emerald Lake, inhaling the clean spring air.
Goddamn if this wasn’t just what the doctor ordered.
Even with the sounds of hammering and electric drills on the job site behind us, I felt as if a balm had settled down on my old bones.
I stood with my girlfriend Susan (it felt strange and delicious to say girlfriend on the north side of sixty) at the site of what would soon be my new lake house, now that I’d gifted my family home to Catherine and Jake. The old home I’d spent summers in—some of the best of my life, and then the worst—was now the offices of the James Colson Memorial Camp, as well as Catherine’s fledgling small business development firm.
We’d arrived only a few minutes ago, but I’d insisted on bypassing all the construction, and headed straight down to the water to check out the beach. Catherine and Jake were meeting us here shortly and I wanted to include them in the tour of the build.
I took in another breath and let it out again, reveling in the feeling of filling my lungs without chest pain.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Susan asked, looping an arm through mine.
She looked up at me with a smile. Her warm eyes crinkled, and she tucked a gray curl behind her ear. There wasn’t a trace of ‘told ya so’ in her expression, though she had every right to take credit for my recovery.
“This air is downright medicinal,” I said, pulling her in close.
Susan was the reason I was in the best shape of my life, over a year after the heart attack that had nearly killed me. She’d say it was the coterie of people she’d hired to help bring me back to health, but I knew Susan’s companionship had been my biggest motivator to take better care of myself.
That and the debacle with Catherine and Jake Colson.
Though the therapist I’d been seeing had helped chip away at things some over the past year, everything I’d done—how long I’d drawn out that fight—still filled me with shame. Those two were as close to me now as I imagined grown children would be, and I wanted to make up for everything I’d put them through. I wanted to stick around to be a grandfather to their kids one day.
Hopefully sooner rather than later.
“I swear my heart rate goes down the minute I take the turnoff to Jewel Lakes,” I said.
“Well, you’ve sure made me appreciate it all over again,” she said.
I smiled. “Just like how you make me appreciate the city.”
Susan had grown up in Moriarty, a town in the county neighboring Jewel Lakes. She was used to all this beauty, whereas the glittering lights and bustle of New York was as familiar to me as an old pair of shoes.
I was still working at the firm—I loved it too much to fully let it go. But I no longer took my own cases; I just provided oversight and advice. And I came up here every other weekend. Longer in the summer and holidays.
“We should head back up to the house,” Susan said. “Catherine and Jake will be turning up any minute.”
“Think they’re going to like it?” I asked as I took in the giant frame of my future house, nestled in the trees.
“Of course they will,” Susan said. “It’s going to be stunning.”
I wanted them not just to like it, but to love it. I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to drop it, but I wanted to let them know I wanted to host their wedding here.
Not that Jake had even proposed yet.
There was still a good six weeks left on the build, and I’d only seen the outside so far on this visit, but it was shaping up to be a beauty.
The Miyazaki, so named because of the architect, was a zinger of a modern design. I’d picked it out before I even purchased the property—and learned only later that it was the only reason I’d been able to secure Graydon Mitchell, owner of Grayscale Contracting. He was the most sought-after builder in the county—if not upstate New York. He’d moved his whole schedule around to make this happen.
“I always dreamed about working on a Miyazaki,” Graydon had said excitedly when we inked the deal.
Graydon told me he loved the Miyazaki for what he called ‘the beauty of the design’, and the challenging build it would present.
I loved it because I’d wanted the new home to look nothing like the lake house my father had built.
He would have despised the Miyazaki.
I almost had to laugh about how even at my ripe old age it still felt good to stick it to my dad, after what he’d done. Never mind that he’d been gone for decades.
“Mr. Jones!” Graydon’s voice cut through our little interlude.
He’d just emerged from the tarp over the front door and was heading our way.
The slightest twinge of wistfulness hit me at the easy way he jogged down the path toward us. Although I was in better shape than I’d ever been, I’d never get my youth back. Not that Graydon was a youth—I’d peg him in his late thirties. But he was definitely a man in his prime.
I sighed, tipping a hand up at him. I’d never make jogging look as easy as Graydon did. The younger man was fit as a fiddle, in fact, and I couldn’t help but notice in our meetings with him the way Susan’s cheeks went pink whenever he turned his attention on her.
“He’s very good looking,” she’d admitted the other night over dinner at our favorite place in Manhattan. When I balked, she’d patted my hand. “Don’t worry, love. I prefer the more seasoned variety. Besides, he’s young enough to be my son.”
“You’ve also grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle only a man of my… vintage can provide,” I teased, looking pointedly around the high-end restaurant with its glittering modern chandeliers and finely dressed patrons. Though of course it was my bank account that made this lifestyle possible, not my age.
Still, Susan had humored me, taking a sip of wine. With a devilish smile, she’d stuck her pinkie out. “Perhaps you’re right.”
Lord knows I loved that woman. I knew she’d love me even if I was a pauper, given she didn’t know anything about my personal life until we were well down the flirting path at physical therapy.
“Mr. Jones,” Graydon said when he reached us, his breathing as steady as if he’d just crossed a room. “I’m glad you’re here.”
This had been an almost impromptu visit—I’d only texted Graydon this morning.
“Susan,” Graydon tipped his head at Susan.
Susan blushed, on cue. “Hello, Graydon.”
I refrained from rolling my eyes. “There a problem?” I asked Graydon.
Graydon gave me a look that made me know immediately that there was, in fact, a problem. “We have a hiccup with the designer.”
“Oh?” The designer I’d chosen to do the interior had been recommended to me by a work acquaintance in the city. I didn’t know the first thing about design and was already exhausted going through our options. We’d only met once, and I’d found her a little effusive, but otherwise had seen no red flags. She was at a high-end firm with splashy offices. Not that that meant anything, I supposed.
“She’s bowing out of the project,” Graydon said.
“What?”
“She stopped showing up for the meetings a couple of weeks ago—well, technically, she never actually showed up for any of them. Her assistant did. But they haven’t shown for the past two either. Not even when I offered an online option.”
I hadn’t expected a New York designer to show up to every meeting here upstate, but none? I knew she’d done some work on the project—she usually responded to my emails, though come to think of it, I hadn’t seen much in the way of progress reports.
“Has she provided an explanation?” I asked, a spark of anger running through me. We were paying the firm enough that I expected at least the bare minimum out of them. Also, I should have been able to sniff out a weak link. I was losing my touch.
“Nope. Her assistant called this morning and said something about scheduling,” Graydon said, “which doesn’t make a lot of sense given we’ve been clear from the get-go about it all. And unfortunately, I haven’t been able to reach her myself. I’ve been trying her all morning—including the personal number you gave me—but so far no luck.”
The spark grew to a flame. In her emails, the designer had made it seem like she and Graydon had things in the bag.
“Susan, how much are we paying this firm?”
“I think it’s close to forty thousand,” she said. “And that’s only their consulting fees.”
“Dammit!” I said, seeing red now. I didn’t appreciate being lied to. Plus, I was a lawyer—I should have been able to smell a lie a mile away. But building and design wasn’t my area of expertise.
“Graydon, have you seen this type of behavior before?”
Graydon answered without hesitation. “No. And I apologize for not catching this sooner—by all accounts, things were going fine. Quite honestly Mr. Jones, I would strongly recommend cutting ties and contracting a new firm. Immediately.”
This is why Graydon was the best—he knew what had to happen. He wasn’t quick to anger like me, and he was decisive.
I took a breath, still fuming. “We’re six weeks from the finish line, right?”
“We were, until this morning. This build is contingent on design input to be completed. I could make some decisions myself, but I’m not a designer. I also know a couple of very good names I could pass on to you, but design is a very personal decision. And I’m not sure how likely they are to be available.”
“No one is going to be available this quickly,” I said. I bunched my fists.
“I know you don’t want to cut corners, Alfred,” Graydon said. “So, unfortunately, the wise thing to do if we can’t find someone is to hit pause on the build.”
“Goddammit!” I repeated. I needed this home finished. I needed to start my new life here, for me and Susan and for Cat and Jake too. Offering them the house was like the final piece in the puzzle. I wanted to christen both the house and their lives together with good fortune instead of all the heartbreak from the old place.
“Alfred,” Susan said, putting a hand on my arm.
I looked over at her. Immediately, her face, calm and measured, took the top layer of my anger off.
“I’m sorry, Susan,” I said. “I wish I’d been more on top of the designer.”
“That was my job,” Graydon said. “Though I’m not quite sure what either of us could have done. This was completely out of left field.”
“Alfred,” Susan said again, her voice insistent. “What about Lucy?”
I paused.
“Lucy?” I asked. “My…” I glanced toward Graydon, too embarrassed to say who Lucy was. “…coach?”
I never in a million years would have thought I’d have a life coach. But Lucy was now an essential part of my life. She specialized in making sure people had balance in their lives, something I’d never once managed to figure out how to achieve on my own. Plus, I appreciated how firm and to-the-point she was—just like me.
But what the hell did she know about interior design?
Susan saw the question on my face before I uttered the words.
“She used to be a designer,” she said. “Remember? She has those photos up on her website, then I looked her up and saw she used to be a part of that very prestigious firm who didn’t have any openings for the next half-decade.”
I remembered now—Susan had gushed over Lucy’s website—she had photos up of her apartment and it was in some kind of style I couldn’t remember the name of, but Susan had grown nearly obsessive over.
“You talked about asking her to do it before we started,” I recalled.
Susan folded her arms. “Wouldn’t that have been good?”
I nodded, sheepish. I’d been the one who’d insisted on hiring a firm.
“This is someone in New York?” Graydon asked.
“Yes,” I said. “She’s very good. Very organized, direct. Smart as a whip. I don’t know about her design acumen but—”
“I do,” Susan jumped in. “She’s exceptional.”
“Sounds promising,” Graydon said. “The only thing is, we’re so far into it now, I think she might need to be onsite quite frequently as soon we’ll be choosing finishings. It might make sense to have her situated here, in Jewel Lakes. And fast.”
My stomach sank. How would I ever convince Lucy to not only do a job she didn’t do anymore but also come up and stay in Jewel Lakes for six weeks? She seemed like kind of a city girl.
But even that thought sent a spike of energy through me. I didn’t build one of the most successful corporate law firms in Manhattan by hand wringing.
Just then Susan smiled over my shoulder, and I turned to see Catherine and Jake coming down the path arm in arm, their faces as glowing and happy as I’d ever seen.
“You made it!” called Susan, already heading up the path toward them.
“Thanks for letting me know all this, Graydon,” I said. “I’ll get back to you later today with our decision—either we’ll shut down work or I’ll beg or bribe Lucy to take over. And if it’s not the latter, I’ll eat my hat.”
Graydon laughed. “Sounds good.”
I had to hit pause on the design problem as we greeted Catherine and Jake and I introduced them to Graydon. Then over the next half hour, Graydon took us on a tour of the new build.
“This is amazing!” Catherine gasped, as we stepped into the framed main room, which would have floor to ceiling windows facing the lake and trees. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It’s almost as good a view as the front deck at the mess hall at camp,” Jake said.
I laughed. “Almost.”
On the way to lunch, I had Susan drive while I called Lucy.
It wasn’t a long call, but I was persuasive. I also offered the best goddamned deal I could think of. Fifty thousand for six weeks of work—even I wouldn’t pass that up.
After I made the offer, I could hear someone hollering on the other end of the line. A nasty client maybe. Then Lucy’s voice came through.
“Yes.”
* * *
Lunch was a celebration. We were eating at Gastronomique, the finest restaurant in the county. I ordered a bottle of proper champagne, and after the server retreated with our orders, I made a snap decision and lifted my glass up.
Catherine and Susan had been laughing at something Jake was saying, but they hushed when they saw me eyeing them.
“I’d like to make a toast,” I said.
Catherine leaned into Jake, who kissed the top of her head, then rested his forearms on the table, looking at me with a smile.
I directed my words at the two of them. “Catherine, you know you’re like a daughter to me. And Jake, a son now, too.”
Jake’s smile broadened and Catherine looked as if she might already be tearing up.
I paused, wanting to get this right.
“I know I can never make up for what I put you through, but I’d like to try. I may be jumping the gun here, but I’d like to offer up the Miyazaki—now that I know it’ll be completed on time—as the site for your wedding.”
Catherine and Susan gasped at the same time.
“Alfred!” Catherine exclaimed. “We haven’t even…” she looked at Jake, her cheeks going pink.
Jake wrapped an arm around Catherine. “I haven’t proposed yet.”
“Well,” I said, “You better get on that, son!”
“Alfred!” It was Susan saying my name now.
“What?” I looked at Jake and Catherine with mock confusion. “You two don’t want to get married?”
Catherine burst out laughing then. Jake lowered his head, hiding the same.
A glow of good cheer ran through me.
“Oh Alfred,” Catherine said. “Never change, please.”
Susan clapped a hand over her forehead. “I can’t believe you’re putting this pressure on these two—”
“It’s no pressure,” Jake said, suddenly serious. “Actually, the reason I asked you two to lunch was because I wanted to ask you something important.”
The young man met my eyes.
My stomach did a little sinking, then.
Damn. I flubbed it up again.
“That’s why you took a minute when I insisted Catherine and Susan come along,” I said, knowing what was coming.
Jake laughed. “Yeah. But it’s fine. I don’t see why we have to be fully traditional about these things. So, now that you’re here, I’ll ask.”
He swallowed and straightened his back. “Seeing as you’re more of a father to Cat than her real dad, I wanted to ask you, personally, if I could have your permission to have your daughter’s hand in marriage?”
Catherine’s hands went to her mouth.
“What happened to not being traditional, son?” I asked.
Jake grinned. “I can still be proper.”
I made them wait, but only for a moment.
“Of course you can,” I said, my voice gravelly with emotion. I felt tears—tears—welling in my eyes.
“Thank you,” Jake said.
We were all expecting that. But we weren’t expecting what came next. Jake pushed his chair back, then dropped to one knee, and seamlessly pulled a black box out of his pocket.
“No time like the present,” he said.
Catherine sucked in air. My own damn chest felt like it might burst.
“Cat, you know you’re the love of my life. I think I loved you since the moment I set eyes on you. Or since you set your eyes on me. All of me.”
Catherine laughed, and though I frowned, I had to suppress a laugh too. Catherine had confessed to me over Christmas how she’d first been introduced to Jake Colson in his birthday suit. Goddamned daredevil jumping in the lake in November.
“Cat, will you marry me?”
Catherine took a breath. Then she said, “The thing is, Jake, I was going to ask you the same thing. Though I didn’t know I’d be put quite so on the spot about it.” She gave me a pointed look.
It was my turn to laugh now, heartily.
“Leave it to a lawyer to negotiate a proposal!”
But Susan elbowed me. “Shh!”
I quieted down. Glancing around, I saw every set of eyes in the restaurant were on us.
“Yes,” Catherine said to Jake, “Yes, I’ll marry you. Over and over again, yes.”
The whole restaurant erupted in cheers and applause.
And I let out a goddamned sob.
“This might just be my favorite day in Jewel Lakes,” Susan said, leaning into me as Cat and Jake embraced, both of them looked to be sobbing too.
“Mine too,” I said. Then I whispered, “until the next proposal.”
Susan gasped.
“But I’d better not steal their thunder,” I said.
“No, better not.”
As Catherine and Jake kissed to the sounds of cheers and clinking glasses, I leaned back in my chair, my heart full.
I realized, as I sipped my champagne and clung tight to Susan’s arm, that it wasn’t just forgiveness and reconciliation Catherine and Jake had made me believe in.
It was love.
* * *
I hope you loved Cat and Jake’s story!
Are you ready for book two? No Plans for Love is available now!
No Plans for Love
My perfect life plan doesn’t include relationships. But doing the interior design on this high-end lake house has put me in sudden forced proximity to Graydon Mitchell, the house’s way-too-sexy builder. A fling should get things out of my system, right?
Nail No Plans for Love now!