Believe in Me: A Rosewood Novel (20 page)

“I’ll make sure Miriam knows who’s to blame for Olivia’s sugar high this morning,” Jordan said dryly as she passed Jade the milk. “And no, we weren’t talking about you.”

“Jordan’s the breakfast topic,” Travis informed her.

“Lucky you,” Jade said, grinning.

“Lucky me,” Jordan repeated. “Here Max, let’s wash your hands and face. They’re a little sticky.” She scooped him into her arms with an exaggerated grunt. “You, Maxwell Robert Stevens, are becoming a very heavy young man! Kate, honey, as soon as you’re finished, you need to run upstairs and get those teeth brushed. Don’t want to be late for school.”

“Okay, Mommy.”

“You want us to take Olivia down to the barn until Miriam arrives? Then you can go straight to Hawk Hill after dropping these two off at school,” Margot asked.

“Not necessary, thanks. I told him I’d be there mid-morning.” She wasn’t going to arrive a minute earlier than that.

“Oh, so the topic really was the new dude in town and whether he has a thing for Jordan,” Jade said.

Jordan gritted her teeth. “I promise you, he does not have a thing for me.”

“What kinda thing does he have, Mommy?” Max asked.

“Good one, guys. Now, could you stop before certain little pitchers’ ears grow even bigger? And more inquisitive?” Not to mention concerned, she added silently. Kate and Max were still grappling with the fact that their daddy had recently gotten married and was off honeymooning in a place called Hawaii with his new wife, Cynthia. She had no idea how they would react to the idea of a man coming into her life. Though Jordan was apparently the only one who could see that Owen Gage had commitment-phobe written all over him, she didn’t want the kids worried needlessly.

Some might argue she didn’t know Owen well enough to classify him as relationship-averse, but the signs were there. Owen was successful, extremely good-looking, knew how to kiss a woman so that she melted in his arms, yet he was still single at the age of thirtysomething. His smooth charm was doubtless handy in slipping free of ties.

Another obvious clue that the man was unwilling to commit was that though he loved architecture, he didn’t even own a home. Jordan hardly needed the hours she’d spent in Abby Walsh’s office having her every emotion and habit dissected to figure that one out.

Margot gave her an abashed look. “Sorry, Jordan,” she said quietly. “We didn’t mean to be indiscreet.”

“It’s not like you need to lock yourself away, though.”

“So speaks the girl who won’t even go on a date with Brian Steadman,” Jordan said, before turning on the faucet full blast to drown out Jade’s inevitable retort. Testing the water, she handed Max the bar of soap. “Okay, buddy, scrub away.”

By the time Max’s cheeks were free of maple syrup, she found to her immense relief that the conversation had moved on to the weekend’s horse show.

“Do you want to braid Aspen after school today or should I ask Felix to do it?” Margot asked Jade as she poured more coffee into her and Travis’s mugs. Jade was going to be riding Aspen in the green hunter classes.

“No, Felix will have enough to do with Gypsy Queen, Mistral, and Sweet William. I’ll do Aspen’s braids. If he could give him a shampoo for me, though, that would rock.”

“I’ll let him know,” Travis said, getting up from the table to clear the oatmeal bowls.

“What time are you guys hitting the road?” Jordan asked.

“Five,” Travis said. “It’ll take a couple of hours to get down to Lexington. We’re entered in a few afternoon classes, but if they aren’t running too far behind schedule, we should be able to leave the show grounds by four
P.M.
” He sat back down and took a sip of his coffee.

“Can we go, too, Mommy?”

“Lexington is a little too far away for us all to go, Max.”

“But Jade’s riding,” Kate said.

“Now I know how chopped liver feels.” Margot laughed. Though the kids adored Margot and Travis, Jade was the supernova.

“Don’t worry, Kate,” Jade said. “There’ll be lots of chances to see me ride Aspen.”

“And we need to stay here tomorrow and take care of the other horses with Ned and Andy. We’ll be really busy.”

“I can help Ned with the wheelbarrow. I’m really good at pushing it,” Max said.

“He’d like that,” she assured him. “So Kate, are you finished with breakfast? Then let’s get upstairs and brush those teeth.”

She arrived at Hawk Hill with her sixteen-foot tape measure, her notebook and pen, a brick of color chips from her favorite paint company, and a number of folders filled with kitchen and bath design ideas. Armed with these tools, she was nevertheless unsure how useful they’d be in keeping her focused if Owen elected to use his charm on her. She didn’t dare contemplate how she’d react if he kissed her again.

The sight of two trucks parked alongside his Audi TT made her almost giddy. Nothing to worry about, she told herself. The work crew would provide an excellent bulwark.

Walking past a large Dumpster and sawhorses with planks of lumber neatly stacked beside them, Jordan looked up at the house. What a difference two weeks had made. New cedar shake shingles covered the roof. The shutters had been removed from the windows, and scaffolding erected alongside both chimneys. Noting the fresh yellowy-brown of new clapboard siding to replace the rotted and warped areas, she realized Owen hadn’t been exaggerating about having a hardworking construction crew.

She didn’t bother ringing the doorbell as the front door was propped open with a brick to let the spring air in. She
stepped onto a brown paper path that had been laid to protect the hardwood floors and followed it toward the male voices.

Though she was sure the scrunching of her steps on the paper had been drowned out by the U2 song playing on the radio, Owen must have been listening for her. He immediately turned his head as she entered what had been the Barrons’ living room, empty now except for two armchairs covered in canvas. His gaze was surprisingly intense, simultaneously sweeping and penetrating, as if he could assess her mood with a single look.

Perhaps he could. It struck Jordan that she had acted far more emotionally around Owen than she normally did in public. He’d certainly seen how hurt she was by Nonie’s malicious gossip, and he’d been very much on the receiving end of her outrage, his unsuspecting face her target. As an intelligent man, he’d most likely gathered all sorts of clues about her yesterday at Rosewood—how easily he could make her respond to his kisses and searing touch topping the list. Reserved and collected around others, she’d revealed more facets of her self to Owen in their short acquaintance than many people had ever been permitted to see.

He wasn’t the only one blessed with powers of observation, however. She was confident in her growing ability to read him. For instance, after the look he’d aimed her way, brief and intense as lightning, his gaze became shuttered, his expression carefully bland. Polite but distant.

She wondered how early he had learned that particular trick from his career-diplomat parents.

But after last night, she preferred impeccably mannered aloofness over riotous kisses, which led to troubling dreams, both kisses and dreams threatening to turn her carefully ordered world topsy-turvy.

“Good morning,” she said, assuming her best professional manner.

“Good morning. Doug, Jesse, this is Jordan Radcliffe.
I’ve asked her to do the interior design for the house. Jordan, these are two of my crew. Doug Brandt’s my foreman, and this is Jesse Frye, my carpenter. They’ll be on site most days.”

Thank God
. The more people around, the better. “Hello,” Jordan said with a friendly nod at the two men. Doug Brandt, with salt-and-pepper hair, looked to be in his early fifties. Jesse was a good deal younger; Jordan put him in his mid-twenties. In work boots and jeans, their cellphones stuck into leather cases that hung from their belts, they were attractive men, well built and amply muscled. What surprised Jordan was that Owen, looking his well-dressed self in a crisply ironed, blue-on-blue-striped shirt with navy blue trousers and brown loafers, was just as much of a masculine presence as the two brawnier men in their cotton T-shirts and worn jeans. She would have much preferred to find him too showy in comparison. No such luck.

“You from around here, Jordan?” Jesse asked.

“I grew up in the house just next door, right up Piper Road. So I guess I’m as local as they come, though I did live in D.C. for several years.”

“Jordan and her sisters live in a terrific Greek Revival that’s escaped being destroyed by a mess of modern additions. How do you suppose that happened, by the way?” Owen asked. “It’s a pretty rare occurrence.”

“Luck, I suppose. For the most part the Radcliffe women all loved Rosewood just as it was. Nicole, my sister Jade’s mom, insisted on redoing the kitchen and the baths—and given her and Dad’s scale of entertaining, she was probably right. But she, too, understood that Rosewood should stay as it was. And the men in our family have always preferred to spend money on our horses.” Or on toys she added silently, remembering with pain her father’s extravagance in buying his own Cessna and his insatiable love of expensive cars.

“Jordan and her sisters raise horses, the family business,” Owen explained to Doug and Jesse. “I’m going to
use their barns as a model for when we rebuild the barn here at Hawk Hill.”

“Horse barns, huh? That’s a departure for Gage and Associates.”

“Expanding our repertoire, Doug. Gotta keep you and Jesse on your toes.”

“I don’t have a problem building a horse barn. I like horses. Though I can’t say I’ve ever been around them much,” Jesse said.

Jordan smiled. “Well, I guarantee that whoever buys Hawk Hill will really appreciate a newly renovated barn. Horses are pretty much the main reason people move to a place like Warburg.”

“I did notice that the hardware store in town sells almost as much horse stuff as anything else,” Doug said.

“And they also stock carrot and corn treats in the pet food section of the grocery store,” she told them.

“Gotcha.” Jesse grinned. “We better make that barn a showcase.”

“Hey, Jesse, you almost finished replacing the clapboards?” Owen asked.

“Still have the north side to finish. Then I was going to start repairing the pilasters.”

“Sounds good. Get as much done as you can today. Monday’s forecast is for rain.”

“Okay.” He gave Jordan a friendly nod. “Nice meeting you, Jordan.”

“It was nice meeting you, too.”

“Hey, Jesse, will you pick me up the turkey with jalapeño jack when you do the run to Braverman’s?” Doug said.

“Sure. Are you going to want anything, Owen?”

“I’ll take the roast beef with mustard on pumpernickel.”

“How about you, Jordan?”

“Oh, no, that’s all right. I’ve—”

“Jordan’s got to pick up her kids at school,” Owen answered for her. “She’s got three of them.”

There was a barely perceptible pause, and then Jesse said, “So that’s one turkey and jalapeño jack and one roast beef on pumpernickel with mustard.”

From the way Jesse beat a path to the door, one would have thought motherhood was contagious, Jordan thought with amusement. What she found especially intriguing was that Owen had felt it necessary to announce to his workmen the fact that she had children.

But she didn’t have the chance to analyze his motives, for Owen had decided the time for idle chitchat was at an end.

Turning to Doug, he said, “Now that Jordan’s here, I’d like for the three of us to go through the layout for the kitchen and bathrooms so we can tell the electrician and the plumber what we need and where. And Jordan, we’ll need your order for materials and equipment as soon as we can get it.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

“Then let’s get started.”

Jordan had never been in the Barrons’ kitchen. From the peeling blue-and-white-checkerboard linoleum floor, metal cabinets, and Formica counters, she guessed its last renovation had been at the beginning of the Barrons’ marriage. The sleek Italian espresso machine—obviously Owen’s—looked positively space age in the decidedly tired kitchen. The kitchen’s dimensions were more than ample, though, especially with the addition of the butler’s pantry nestled between the kitchen and dining room.

Times had changed so much since the Barrons’ style of kitchen. Nowadays kitchens were a much more public part of the house. They had to be aesthetically pleasing for when family and friends were gathered around, and they also had to be designed to maximize their versatility and efficiency.

She looked around, noting the position of the windows. Then, mentally blocking out the current layout, she imagined
herself preparing a variety of meals, from a family breakfast, to a dinner party for twelve, to a holiday party where the house would be overflowing with guests.

“I’d go for an L-shaped design, with an island here, where the children or guests could sit,” she said, gesturing. “Now, assuming the ledge of the island goes out to about here, that leaves enough space to put a table over by that window for casual family meals, and for extra counter space when a large party is being thrown.”

“What appliances where?” Owen asked.

“First, I’d put the stove and exhaust hood over there,” she said, pointing.

“You don’t want the range located on the island? That’s a really popular design these days,” Doug said.

Jordan shook her head. “No. If it’s a family with small children, you don’t want little kids sitting at the island and being near hot pots and pans or spattering oil. I’m not keen on having the range on the island for aesthetic reasons, either. Just imagine, if you place the stove top here, the exhaust hood hanging overhead would be ponderous visually. But if the stove is over here,” she said, walking over to the wall to her right, “whoever’s cooking is still part of the group and able to join in the conversation. It’ll also be easier to set up the exhaust vent, as this is an exterior wall.”

Doug gave a slow nod. “That’s a good point.”

Owen had his pen out and was drawing on a sheet of graph paper. “Okay, stove here, island here. Sink?”

“Here, centered opposite the island, with the dishwasher on the right and a pull-out garbage on the left—though you may want to make sure you can switch the two, in case whoever’s the principal cook is a leftie. Then we have room for a cabinet with cutlery drawers. The refrigerator goes next, and we end the line with a tall pantry for foodstuffs.” She paused, watching while Owen sketched her ideas onto the graph paper with quick, sure strokes. “Above the counter there should be a row of cabinets.”