Chapter 9

  Two days, three days…a week. Two weeks—no James. Not a word. The word from the rest of the crew is that he is working insane hours, working out like a fiend, keeping to himself outside of work…and taking mysterious, unexplained, hour-long lunch breaks twice a week.

  I’m at home after work one Friday evening, and there’s a knock at my door—my heart flips in my chest, and I answer the door with shaky hands and trembling knees. But it’s Jesse and Franco, dirty and dusty, wearing tool belts, covered in drywall dust and mud, both wearing their hats backward and Oakleys upside down on the brims.

  I frown in confusion. “Um, hi guys. What’s up? Come on in.”

  They both hesitate, glancing down at their nearly identical filthy tan Timberland boots. “We’re dirty, so we’ll hang out on the porch,” Jesse says.

  I shrug. “I can sweep. It’s not a big deal.”

  They enter, but remain near the door. Jesse fiddles with the hammer in his tool belt, and Franco has a leather business folder like James’s in his hands.

  “We’re here to show you the drawings for the remodel,” Franco says, lifting the folder. “And, if you’re cool with them, we can actually get started demoing.”

  I blink. “Oh. Um. I guess I didn’t know that was still happening.”

  Franco shrugs. “James is super slow at getting drawings done. He’s crazy meticulous, which is why it takes so long. Usually for big jobs, he outsources it, but if it’s a job he has a personal connection to, he does it himself.” He juts his chin at my kitchen table. “Take a seat and I’ll run through it with you.”

  “I can’t read that shit for shit,” Jesse says with a rueful chuckle. “Which is why he’s explaining it. I’m just the muscle.”

  Franco rolls his eyes. “You know, you’re nowhere near as stupid as you make out. I mean, you are stupid, but not that stupid.”

  “Shut up, twink.”

  “Guys. Focus.” I lead the way to the table, and while they take a seat, I bring a six-pack of beer out of my fridge and pass one to each of them, and then open my own. “So. James explained his vision. Is that a drawing of what he said, or something different?”

  Franco shrugs. “Dunno, I don’t know what he told you.” He opens the folder and withdraws a carefully folded piece of thin, gridded tracing paper; on the paper is a top-down blueprint of my current floor plan. “He got the blueprints for your house as a starting place, so this is your place now.”

  I nod, tracing the outline of the kitchen with my fingertip. “Yeah, I see.”

  Franco withdraws a second piece of tracing paper and overlays it on top of the piece with the original layout. This second layer shows what James is proposing.

  “So, the idea is to remove walls here, here, and here,” Franco says, touching the lines indicating walls—between the kitchen and living room, between my bedroom and the bathroom next door, and the entire back wall of the house between the living room and kitchen. “Open up the kitchen, switch things around so your stovetop is in this island, which we’d build from scratch to suit. New countertop—marble, slate, concrete, butcher block, you and Jess can make that call. If you want a butcher-block counter, though, I can hook you up with something super cool. I’ve got some giant pieces of black walnut that would look pretty great.”

  I frown at Jesse. “Why would you make that call? I’m just curious. I thought James was the lead, or whatever.”

  Jesse and Franco exchange glances. “James is the builder, so he leads the general stuff. Lines up subcontractors as necessary, assures quality and standards, makes sure things are code, all that. But when it comes to the aesthetics of interior design, Jesse has the best eye of any of us.” He chuckles. “Funny enough, he really does have the best taste in terms of interior design.”

  “Plus, James is working through some shit right now, so he’s pawned the start of this project off on us,” Jesse says.

  Franco nails him in the shoulder with a fist. “You weren’t supposed to say that, you tool.”

  Jesse shrugs. “What? It’s true. And it’s not like she’s not gonna figure it out. She’s a smart chick, bro.”

  I sigh. “I figured as much when you two showed up.” I hesitate, but then figure I may as well just trust these guys with the truth. “I also know he’s working through things. We talked after the workout a few weeks ago, and he said he needed time to work on things.” I eye them. “Do you happen to know what exactly he’s ‘working’ on?” I ask, using air quotes around the emphasized word.

  Franco and Jesse both shrug.

  “Nah, not really,” Franco says.

  Jesse says, “I’ve known him longest, and I’m only guessing, but I’d say he’s finally trying to come to grips with losing Renée. He grieved as well as anyone can, but he never dealt with it in terms of, like, moving on. He’s gone for an hour, hour and a half every other day for lunch and won’t talk about where he’s going, or what he’s doing, which makes me think he’s seeing someone.” Jesse pauses, then stumbles over his words. “Seeing someone, like a therapist, I mean. Not another woman. I mean, the therapist could be a woman, but not seeing her like that…I mean—”

  I laugh. “I know what you meant, Jess.”

  Franco rolls his eyes with a sigh. “You’re a blabbermouth, you know that?”

  “Was it supposed to be a secret?” Jesse asks. “Besides, I’m just guessing. He could be…I dunno, doing something else during his long weird lunch breaks he won’t talk about.”

  I tap the blueprints. “Let’s focus, guys. Conjecture about what James is doing is futile. He’ll explain what he’s doing if and when we need to know. For now, let’s stick to talking about my house.”

  “Sounds great to me,” Franco says. “So. Kitchen gets rearranged a little. Stove in the island, larger window over the sink, which also gets replaced. New countertops. Push this wall here backward, taking room from the bathroom, which becomes—not quite a powder room, but not a full bathroom. Toilet, vanity, and a small shower in the corner. The extra space from the bathroom becomes a built-in refrigerator and freezer unit. Something by Subzero, probably. Nice and big, with beautiful cabinet exteriors to match the new cabinets everywhere else.”

  I think about that last part. “When he was here, he talked about it being a walk-in pantry.”

  Jess nods, answering for Franco. “Yeah, he said that. But then he realized in taking out the wall you lose not just the stove, which is gonna be a cool induction unit, but also the fridge, and it has to go somewhere. It makes more sense to use the space for a built-in freezer-fridge combo—and by combo, I mean a full-size fridge and full-size freezer side by side. Super lux, super upscale. Big splurge, but it’ll take the kitchen from an eight to a ten. It’ll be cool and it’ll be worth the expense just in terms of resale value alone.”

  “And new cabinets everywhere?” I ask.

  Jesse nods, excited. “Oh yeah. If you do a nice dark butcher block like Franco was talking about, I’d like to see some cool white cabinets—either open-face, or glass fronted. Dark floors to match the counters, so you have dark floors and counters, white cabinets, white ceiling, and we’re putting in a huge thick dark beam—probably a piece of the black walnut Franco has, so it’ll all tie together. It’ll look amazing.”

  I visualize it, and my stomach flips. “Like something out of HGTV.”

  Jesse brings his fingertips together and then explodes them outward. “Kaboom, baby. This place is gonna be lit.”

  I laugh. “Lit? What are you, fifteen?”

  Jesse just laughs and shrugs. “I’m cool enough to get away with slang.”

  “Sure you are,” Franco says drily. “Keep telling yourself that, big guy.”

  Franco taps the bedroom and bathroom wall. “This wall won’t be removed entirely, just opened up for a doorway—James mentioned you liked the idea of an open archway.”

  I tilt my head. “I don’t know. He also mentioned one those barn doors on an exposed rail. I like that, too. I live alone, but I still like to close the door while I take a shower, so I think I’d feel a little weird having my bedroom be totally open to the bathroom. I don’t know.” I glance at Jesse. “What do you think?”

  He rolls a heavy shoulder, adjusting his hat and sunglasses on his head. “I guess I’d have to wait to make that call. Get the wall opened up, update the bathroom.” He hums. “Both ideas are cool, it’ll just depend on how you want the final product to look and feel.”

  “Do you guys want to take a look at the rooms now? Maybe that will give you a better idea.”

  “Sure, good idea.” Jesse hops up and ambles to my bedroom, looks around, then pokes his head into the bathroom and looks in there, and then returns to sit at the table again. “So, just from an initial impression, I’d say an archway makes more sense. You’re not working with a ton of space in either room. Most of your square footage is in the living room and kitchen, which is actually ideal, but it just means your bedroom and bathroom are smaller. A sliding barn door may make the bedroom feel smaller, whereas an open archway will add to the feel of space. Right now you have a shower-tub combo, a huge—and, frankly, hideous—vanity, and a linen cabinet. None of that is using the space efficiently. I’d take the bathroom down to the studs, put in a small, marble-tiled shower stall, a soaker tub, a small, delicate, elegant vanity—a pedestal, maybe, with a glass or hammered copper bowl and a fancy faucet. Rip out that stupid cabinet and make a shelf for towels out of bare pipe and squares of black walnut to tie in with the kitchen. Efficient use of space, and it looks cool. You’ll feel you have more space in the bathroom, but you’ll have a marble shower with a rainfall head and a soaking tub. You have the space in there, you just have to use it right.”

  I blink. “Wow. I love that idea.” I glance at Jesse speculatively. “You know, when you start talking design, you turn into a whole different person.”

  Franco laughs. “He actually sounds smart, doesn’t he?”

  Jesse flips Franco off, totally unfazed by Franco’s constant insults to his intelligence. “I may be a dumbass, but I’m not a total moron.” He then gives Franco double middle fingers. “Unlike you. You’re a dumbass, a moron, and a fuckface.”

  “Ooh, you really dug deep for that one, didn’t you, little buddy?” Franco says. “Careful coming up with those witty retorts, Jess—wouldn’t want you to strain your one brain cell.”

  “At least I have a brain cell. You’ve outsourced your thinking to your butthole.”

  I cackle. “Hey, Tweedledee and Tweedledum—do you two ever stop?”

  “Nope!” they both say in unison.

  I shake my head. “So immature.”

  Jesse snickers. “Hey, I’ve overheard you and the girls talking. You’re not much better.”

  I laugh. “I can’t argue with that.” I lean over the blueprints again. “So. What else?”

  Franco traces the outer wall facing the backyard. “This whole wall becomes a glass wall—apparently James has a specific product in mind. A deck, some paint here and there, and I think that covers it.”

  I think a while. “And cost?” I ask eventually.

  Franco pulls out a third piece of paper, this one a computer printout with a line-by-line estimate. “You’re paying for materials, plus about ten percent of the cost of labor. If you want to go lower, we can pick less expensive materials—James has figured pretty high-end stuff in here. So if you want to spend less, we can help you pick slightly less expensive but still quality materials.”

  The number on the sheet would mean pretty much every dime of my savings, plus I would probably figure some extra for unexpected costs, which always crop up, in my experience. But for what James is proposing…it’s theft. Actual theft.

  I sigh, conflicted. “How much would this cost, at normal rates?”

  “If you were just some random client?” Franco says, leaning back and thinking. “I dunno. Jess?”

  Jesse tilts his head to one side, thinking, calculating. “Oh, let’s see…the kitchen alone would be fifty, at least. Maybe twenty or so for the bathroom. The wall and deck? Another ten, easily. That’s conservative. If you could do this for under a hundred, you’d be winning. Fifty for the kitchen is probably way under. You could easily blow a hundred grand on this kitchen without going nuts.”

  I wince and sigh. “I don’t know if I can accept this. You guys are going to put in, what, weeks of work? Months?”

  Jesse shrugs. “Nah, not months. We’d bring in a crew for the grunt stuff. We have some guys who are expert deck builders—that’s all they do, and they give us good prices. I’d say a month, two at most, barring unforeseen complications, but this place isn’t that old, so I don’t see too much of that.”

  Franco leans forward on his elbows, flipping a pencil around his thumb with his middle finger. “Nova, listen. All of us are doing really well. Business has never been better. We have more jobs lined up than you can imagine, and we’ve increased our profit margin by quite a lot over the last year or two. We’re not hurting, okay? So, you can take this bid and get an amazing remodel. It’ll take your resale value and nearly double it, I’d say. This neighborhood is getting better by the year, which means your comps will go up in value, making your personal home value go up. My point is, you’ll see a big return on this, even if you paid full price.”

  Jesse rolls his eyes. “You’re so dry and boring, Franky boy.” He gazes at me earnestly. “What Franco is trying to say is that we’re doing this for you because we want to. You’re our girl, Nova. Part of the gang. Audra moved in with Franco and Laurel moved in with Ryder so their places were already done, but Ryder, Franco, and James all helped me redo Imogen’s house, and we’ll all help James redo yours.”

  “But we’re not—”

  “Nova, listen,” Jesse cuts in. “He’s working on it. We all know that’s what he’s doing. He’s been a miserable fucking bastard for years, to be honest, and since he met you, I’ve seen hints of the old James. Just hints, but more than I’ve seen in him since my sister died. So, we’re all rooting for you two to figure your shit out—and no one more than me.”

  “Even though your sister was his wife?” I ask.

  Jesse winces, sighs heavily, and nods. “I hated them together at first. Classic older brother, right? I actually decked him when I found they’d slept together. But she loved the fuck out that big dumb jock, and she made him better.” He smiles faintly, eyes misting. “And god knows James was stupid for my sister. He’d have fought Satan himself barehanded and bare naked for that woman, and he kept her grounded. She was a wild woman, flighty and kooky, and…” He shrugs, lifts his hands palms up, and shakes his head, lets his hands thump heavily onto the table. “But she’s gone. And she wanted him to find love again.”

  Franco nods. “I knew her well enough to know she’d have wanted him to get his head out of his ass and find some kind of happiness again.”

  Jesse blinks hard. “I—she…um. A few days before she—before she died, Renée called me.” Jesse hesitates. “No one actually knows this. But, um. She called me at like four in the morning, sobbing. She’d had a nightmare—she dreamed she’d died in…in childbirth. She told me she knew it was silly, and just a hormonal pregnancy dream, but that it had felt…different. More real, or something. She was more scared and upset than I’d ever heard her, ever. She made me promise that—if by some freak or fluke or whatever, something did happen to her, that I’d make sure James didn’t bury himself. That’s how she put it. Bury himself. And it’s what he’s done. I haven’t had any success trying to help him dig out, but god fucking knows I’ve tried. He’s a stubborn bastard, though, and he’s refused to…to—” Jesse shrugs awkwardly, visibly choked up and emotional. “He just won’t get his head out of his ass.”

  Another pause, his eyes on me. “Until you came along. He’s fighting it, but I see some of the old Jamie in him, when you’re around. And I—I like it. I like seeing that. And I keep finding myself hoping that I can do something, anything, to help you and him figure shit out, because that would mean I’d have done something to keep that promise to my sister—the last promise I ever made her. And the only one I’ve been unable to keep.”

  I’m choking. “Jess, it’s not—”

  He taps the blueprints. “So, what I’m saying is, I’d build you an entire house with my bare hands, from scratch, if it meant giving you and James time and space to figure it out. If it meant…” He shrugs, trailing off. “I dunno.”

  I cover his hands with mine. “He has to be ready for it, Jess,” I say, my voice low and quiet.

  He nods. “I know. It’s just that I’m a fixer, and his broken-ass heart is the one thing I can’t fix.”

  “No one can,” I say. “I can’t fix his broken heart. He has to be willing to be with me with a whole heart. There’d be pieces missing, and seams and cracks, but he has to offer it as a whole. I’m worth more than just accepting the fucked-up mess of him, just to have a part. I want more than that—I deserve more. If he can get there, I’ll be here waiting. I’ve got nothing but time, Jess. I’m not going anywhere, and I told him that. I’m willing to wait—because I think he’s worth waiting for.” I smile at Jesse. “If he can get his head out of his ass and work on rebuilding his broken-ass heart, he’ll be worth waiting for.”

  Franco slaps the table. “All right. Mushy time is over. I’m all for everything you guys said, and I want my friends—both you and James—to be happy, however that happens, however it looks. In the meantime, I need to know if you’re giving us the green light to get to work in here. We can start right now—I’ve got a roll-off dumpster on hold and it can be here inside of thirty minutes. We can start in the kitchen, get the biggest and messiest part of the demo over with first.”

  I blink, surprised. “Wait, like, now, now?”

  “I didn’t wear my work clothes for the fashion statement,” Franco says.

  I look around at my house. I think about the bank account I’ve been scrimping and saving and pouring every extra dollar into for years. Then I close my eyes and try to picture my house as James, Jesse, and Franco are describing—open, airy, white cabinets and dark counters, a soaking tub, a marble shower, a master suite, a giant built-in fridge and freezer?