Breakwater Bay (12 page)

Doug came in a few minutes later, looking harassed and disheveled. No wonder Carlyn was carrying a torch; he was completely adorable.

He poured himself a cup of coffee, but instead of carrying it over to his desk, he sat down at the table with the two of them and heaved out a sigh.

Meri pushed the sugar container toward him. He poured a stream of sugar into his cup. He seemed so distracted that he might have just kept pouring if Carlyn hadn’t snatched it out of his hand.

He grumbled to himself.

“What’s the matter, boss?” Meri asked.

Doug scrubbed his face then looked over his fingers at her. “Where do you want me to start? The part where we’re over budget and we haven’t even come close to finishing the projected work for the quarter? Or the part where we lost the Lendenthal grant to the Hopkins House?”

“Ah, crap,” Carlyn said. “Nasty break.”

Doug rumbled some more.

“Well, we’ll just have to plug along,” Meri said, trying to be optimistic and wishing she didn’t have to inform him of the envelope sitting on his desk.

“It’s not you. It’s everyone. Not that any of you are working too slowly. I only hire the meticulous best. I’m not going to start cutting corners now, and I’m not going to paint the whole damn house white.”

“Uh-oh,” Carlyn said. “You’ve been talking to Sweeney again.”

“It’s not her fault. She’s juggling a list an arm long of people wanting grants to restore.”

“I’m working on getting some corporate sponsors.”

“And don’t think I don’t appreciate it. Ah, what the hell, we’ll see it through. Somehow.”

“We always do,” Meri said. She stood and gathered up her trash then stopped. “But I have to warn you, we may have a bit of a problem with the ceiling.”

“Oh God, what now?”

Meri walked over to the desk and lifted the envelope. “This fell off the ceiling while I was working this morning.”

Doug took it, turned on the desk lamp, and pulled out a jeweler’s loupe. “And this just broke off?”

“Yeah, no warning; everything felt solid. It was near a settling crack but nothing to indicate the paint or the plaster were compromised.”

“Damn.”

“It didn’t look too bad. I’m going to do a few random samples this afternoon, just to check it out. Hopefully it’s an isolated occurrence, and if need be, we can just inject some adhesive . . . fingers crossed. I’d hate to lose too much of the original pattern until we get a good schematic of it.”

“Me, too. Do what you need to do. Wear a ventilator.”

“Doug,” Meri whined, knowing he was right and that she’d been lucky so far not to have to totally suit up.

“Do it.”

“I could have been a dental assistant and done all this work right side up—and wear makeup.”

Doug cracked a smile. Mission accomplished.

“Just do it.”

Meri saluted. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

“And a hard hat,” he called after her.

As Meri reached the hall her cell rang. She fished it out of her pocket and checked caller ID. Her heart gave a painful thump.
Peter.

She listened to it ring, while adrenaline coursed through her. What if he’d changed his mind? Wanted her to come to California with him? Or maybe he’d decided not to go. She wasn’t ready to tell him her history, but she couldn’t not tell him, if they wanted to stay together.

The phone rang again; one more ring and it would go to voice mail. She pressed answer. Took a breath. “Hi.”

I
can’t stand this.”

No hello, no whatcha doing?
And Meri didn’t know what to say. So she waited.

“Can we please talk? I realize that I should have waited until after dinner to spring the whole California thing on you, but I was so excited. Let’s have a drink tonight or I could come over and bring a bottle of wine.”

No, not at her apartment. Not with the diary in the next room. She needed time. And she needed to finish the rest of the entries or at least the ones from that year before she could decide how much to tell him or Carlyn—or anyone.

“I can’t tonight.”

“What about tomorrow or Thursday? I have to drive out to see the parents for the weekend.”

“I—”

“Come on, Meri. Let’s just talk. Things happened too fast. I miss you already. I’m not willing to give up just because I’m gone for the summer.” Pause. “Are
you
?”

Of course she wasn’t, but how did she say,
It’s not you, It’s me,
without sounding like every television serial out there. But it was true. What was she afraid of? If she loved and trusted him, wouldn’t she want to tell him? “How about tomorrow after I get off work? But let’s meet at Grady’s. It will be quiet and we can talk.”

“Good. You want me to pick you up?”

“No. I’ll meet you there. I’m not sure if I’ll be coming straight from work or not.”

“Things picking up around there?”

She had to smile; things didn’t pick up in the restoration world, they just plodded along like the proverbial tortoise, enjoying the process, reveling in the minutiae of discovery, until the final reveal. Or until the money ran out.

“Pretty busy. See you tomorrow.”

She stopped by the equipment room and checked out a respirator. Her hard hat was already on the scaffolding platform. She hated using it. Between the hat, the ventilator, the head lamp, and the light scope, it put too many obstacles between her and the study area.

On the other hand, she didn’t want the ceiling coming down on her head, or to risk breathing in mold or lead dust.

Before she climbed up, she stopped to chat with Joe Krosky, who was working on the parlor walls. Joe was an intern from University of Rhode Island, but not your typical intern. He was taking a break from Ph.D. work in molecular biology. His hobby was renovation.

He was one of those perennially energetic people, who bounced on their toes while attempting to stand still. Only when he was working did he seem to enter some Zen state of quietude. He always wore the same thing to work: white painter’s overalls and a bright red bandanna securing his bushy carrot-red hair.

“Any mold?” Meri asked as she watched him meticulously trace the wallpaper pattern near the arched doorway.

“Nope, but I shudder to think what’s been chewing on the woodwork.”

Meri did shudder just thinking about it. “I’m sure whatever it was, is gone.”

“I hope so. I keep expecting to turn around and find an audience of rodents sitting up on their hind legs ready to applaud.”

“With little top hats and white shirt fronts?”

Joe bounced on his toes. “And spats.” He went back to work, serenity returned.

Meri went out to the foyer and climbed up the ladder.

She spent the afternoon inspecting for mold, loosened paint, and weakened plaster. It was boring work, so she was surprised when Joe called up to say work was ending early and Doug wanted them to come down to the kitchen.

Meri pulled off her respirator and leaned over the edge of the scaffolding. “Please tell me someone’s having a birthday.”

Joe shook his head, sending dust from his red bandanna. “Maybe we got a another grant. That would be cool.”

It would be a godsend. But Meri wasn’t optimistic. She just hoped it wasn’t bad news.

Joe waited for her to pack up and climb down, and they followed the others in the exodus to the kitchen.

They were the last to arrive and the kitchen was filled with anxious faces, a far cry from the celebration of only a few nights before. And Meri got a sinking feeling that all their lives were about to change and not for the better.

Doug seemed to have aged since lunch, and Carlyn looked grim. What could possibly have happened in the last few hours?

Doug cleared his throat, a rumble that rolled through the uncannily quiet room. “You’ve all been doing a dynamite job,” he began.

“Uh-oh,” Joe said in Meri’s ear and began to bounce.

“But I’ll just say this straight out. We lost the Lendenthal grant.”

A general whisper of disappointment.

“There are other grants,” Lizzy Blanchard said. She’d only been hired three weeks before; this was her first job as a journeyman glazier.

“There are,” Carlyn said. “And we’re working on getting them. And we’re still in the running for two smaller grants.”

“But,” Doug said, “in order to keep working at all until we raise more money, I’m afraid . . .” He paused as if the words literally stuck in his throat. “I’m going to have to cut back on staff.”

This was met with total silence.

Someone whispered, “We’re getting laid off?”

“Good thing I’m a volunteer,” Joe said brightly and bounced even higher.

Doug nodded, attempting a smile and failing.

“What if we just cut back on our hours?” The master carpenter, a man well into his sixties, had been laid off at his last renovation for the same reason. Money was tight everywhere. “I’d rather work for less than go back to kitchens and closets.”

That got some sympathetic nods.

“Carlyn and I have been going over the books. It might be possible to move to a four-day week and rotate hours, if everyone is willing or can afford to do that. Those of you who can’t, I totally understand.”

Doug heaved a sigh large enough to fill the room. “The project has just had more problems than we’d foreseen. It will be a beauty in the long run. I’m sure of that. Just not sure how long the long run is going to be at this point.”

Carlyn exchanged looks with Meri. She looked like she might burst into tears. Meri pretty much felt the same way. It was selfish, she knew, but with her personal life in upheaval, the question of her birth looming in the unknown, she’d been clinging to work to keep herself sane.

But she couldn’t work for free; she was barely making it as it was. Still, she was excited about her ceiling. She liked working for Doug and spending work time with Carlyn, Joe, and the others.

Doug had put together a great crew. Students and volunteers, craftspeople on their way up or happy to be part of a small operation rather than one of many at a large firm. Artists, painters, gilders, glaziers, masons, all who came in on a need basis, because they respected Doug as a conservator.

He had a knack for discovering ugly ducklings and bringing them back to unexpected beauty. He took on projects that others turned up their noses at. Consequently, in spite of his successes, he was always working on a shoestring budget.

Meri had a few months’ worth of rent saved. And if it came to it, she could give up her apartment and commute from Gran’s. Would she do that? For one project?

For this project, she thought she might.

“So think about it for a day or two. Then I’ll talk to you all individually. Whatever you decide, I understand. Now everybody go home and try not to worry.”

The group reluctantly filed out of the kitchen. Some headed back to their stations to finish up for the day, and maybe for the project. Some went straight to the parking lot, probably to discuss what to do or to hit the want ads.

How had things gone so bad since lunch? Meri hung back until only she and Carlyn were left.

“Give me the worst,” Meri said.

“The backers are wondering whether the house is worth the restoration.”

“Hell, yeah,” Meri said. “Underneath the crap is a gem, I feel it.”

“So does Doug. Not everyone has his confidence.”

“Well, we’ll just have to show them, won’t we.”

“That’s what I told him.” Carlyn shrugged. “He feels like it’s his fault.”

“That’s our Dougie.” Meri sighed, trying not to think what this might mean for her. “Well, I’m going to stay as long as I can. I can do double duty at the lab and help with the layer analysis. I don’t think I can speed up the cleaning. All that decorative molding has been globbed with paint layers, and it’s slow going. But I’ll get down to the original pattern. Hell, I’ll even do the tracing.”

“At the rate we’re going, you may have to do the painting and gilding.”

Meri held up her hand. “Not my forte, I’m afraid. But tell Doug I’m in for as long as I can afford it.”

“Thanks.”

“I take it you’re staying.”

Carlyn shrugged. “As long as I can afford it.”

Meri climbed up the scaffolding once more to catalog her findings of the day and retrieve her tools and equipment. She returned the respirator and hard hat to the equipment room, did a quick cleanup of hands and face, and carried her notes to the workroom where she logged them in the daily ledger. Doug wasn’t around and neither was Carlyn, but Meri guessed they were somewhere in the building regrouping and brainstorming about additional means of income.

Joe stuck his head in the door. He’d donned his leather jacket. A cardboard tube stuck out of the messenger bag slung across his chest. “I’m dropping by the lab on my way home. Got anything that needs to go?”

“Joe, bless you. Yes. Just this one sample.” Meri found the moldy plaster sample and quickly scribbled a note to Lou, the lab intern, to bump it to the front of the queue. Joe carefully placed the sample in the messenger bag and bounced his way out to the parking lot.

A few minutes later she heard the rumble of his Kawasaki as he turned into the street.

Now that it was the end of the day, Meri was anxious to get home. On her way to her locker to get her coat and bags, she heard voices coming from Carlyn’s office. “Good night, all,” she called.

Doug’s shaggy head appeared, Cheshire cat style, in the doorway. “Carlyn told me you’ll stay. Thanks.”

“My pleasure. I’m the last one, I think. See you tomorrow.”

She’d been absorbed in her work all day, but as soon as evening came on, Meri’s mind turned to the diary waiting to be read. Suddenly anxious to get home and to the diary, she hurried through the house to the back door and was almost jogging as she reached her car. But once in the car, she remembered she had to get to the grocery store. The cupboard was beyond bare; she didn’t even have enough dish detergent to wash a plate even if she could find something to put on it.

She pulled down the visor and took a quick look in the mirror. She wouldn’t be going anywhere without a shower. Even the most dedicated restorer wouldn’t show up at the Stop & Shop the way she looked.