Newton Neighbors (New England Trilogy) (10 page)

Her regular subscriptions had taught her everything was in the details. Cathi spent hours considering colors, such as the merits of aqua over ecru and bamboo over basket. She knew two or three misplaced shams made the difference between a breezy bedroom and a hurricane hit. Cathi also knew she had good taste, because she’d spent years developing it under the tutelage of every interior magazine she could get her hands on. Still, that hadn’t stopped her from hiring the best professional help she could find when she had done her big makeover a few years back.

She clicked her mouse again, closed the laptop down, and picked up Fifi. Her day had just gotten a whole lot worse. Cathi left the library and headed for her galley kitchen. She switched on her shiny new chrome coffee maker, and it started to gurgle reassuringly.
 

Things would feel better after a nice warm drink. Leaving the machine to do its job, she carried Fifi with her into her living room, where she flopped down onto her pastel blue sofa and let the dog settle next to her. She loved this room since the redecoration. It wasn’t a big room, but the interior designer had shown her how to use a sectional couch fitted in the corner to maximize her sedentary space. Her ottoman doubled as extra seating and storage—how clever was that? The entire ground floor of the house had been redecorated at the same time so that each room complemented the next. The colors flowed from one room to the next. For example, the creams in the library sofa matched the cushions in the living room. The pastel blue sectional was the same color as the paint she’d used in the girls’ desert island den. Their toy boxes in that room were made of the same mahogany as her library shelves. It was meant to be inconspicuous, but even an amateur would see how the entire house worked together.
 

It was supposed to be subliminal, tasteful—very Cathi. Moneywise, she’d spent more than she planned, but she couldn’t stop halfway through such a project. Once she had committed, it would have been insanity to quit—a false economy. Michael had been mutinous when he’d seen the bills coming in, but by then it was too late. He’d also thought they were getting the entire house redone for that price, when in fact it had just been the downstairs. That had been a sticky point. A few months after the job had been finished, and even Michael had agreed it looked terrific, he’d asked when work was to commence on the upstairs.

Sitting in her sectional, Cathi remembered the argument well.
 

She had tried to act surprised. “You want me to get that done, too?”
 

“Well, isn’t that what your designer has been paid for? I mean, she’s only halfway through the makeover.”

“I thought you were unhappy with the cost. I didn’t go ahead with upstairs.” Cathi forced a smile.

“I was unhappy with the cost.” Michael frowned. “No, correction—I
am
unhappy with the cost. We could have bought a holiday home with the money you’ve pumped into this one. I assumed the bill I was looking at was for the entire house, Cathi.”
 

She knew Michael was beginning to feel yet another penny drop, following the thousands that had already dropped from their account.

She couldn’t really stall him anymore. It was better to come clean, and it was too late anyway. “No, we just contracted her for the downstairs. That’s what we paid for. If you want me to get her to do upstairs, I’m sure I can ask her for a more competitive quote, especially with the recession.”

Michael was on his feet. “What? You’re telling me all that money—almost a year’s salary—went on a few cushions and shams?”

“The paint was organic,” Cathi said, but she knew Michael was on the edge of a major meltdown. There was only one way to defuse him when he got this mad, and she knew what to do. The girls were at camp, so the house was empty. Cathi got up and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed his cheeks and then his lips. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said between each kiss. Then she dropped her hand, and pretty fast, his ire turned to desire.

“If you think you can talk your way out of this one . . .” he said while he kissed her back. She could feel his anger subside as his passion flared. That was the day they christened their sectional.
 

Cathi heard the coffee percolator click and headed back into the kitchen. Her plan had been to redesign the house then sell it. Even back then she was determined to trade up. She had parked the idea for a while after the redecoration—in part because it was so nice, but mainly because Michael had still been upset about her financial extravagance. She knew if she had suggested selling, he would have turned her down. A lot of time had passed since then. She thought perhaps now the time was right for a move. They would turn a good profit on the house after all she’d done to it.
 

Was there any way in heaven she could get the money together to buy number sixteen Crystal Lake? If she could pull it off, she’d never ask for anything again. It was already renovated, so they wouldn’t have to spend any more. How could she convince Michael? Where in the world would she find that kind of money?
 

Armed with her coffee, Cathi walked around the ground floor of her home. It was such a great house, close to good schools and downtown Newton. The first thing she decided to do was call a realtor and get an appraisal. Then at least she could calculate how much she needed. Perhaps if she put it on the market, she could see what sort of demand was out there. If she was lucky, maybe she’d get two parties involved and start a bidding war. That way she’d make a good profit to carry forward.

“But what about Michael?” she asked Fifi, who was walking alongside her. Cathi took a sip of her coffee and thought about their last property discussion. She would bring the matter up on an evening when both the girls were out at slumber parties and when he had a glass of wine in his hand. She’d see to it that she looked great and had her hair blown out. But most of all—Cathi smiled—she would be sure she asked when Michael was sitting on the sectional.
 

Chapter Seven

The First Date

“I’m sitting on my bed, in my room, in
America
! You know, I still can’t believe I’m here,” Jessie said when she was talking to her mother on the phone. “I mean
college in America
—me? I never thought it would happen for real.”

Her mother laughed through the telephone line. “Every time we speak, you say that. I never doubted it. You’re a great girl, but if you’ve one fault, it’s you don’t realize just how good you are.”

“Mom.”

“Did you just call me ‘Mom’?”

“Sorry, Mother.”

“Sweetheart, from your first semester in college back here in dear old England, your dean of faculty told you a master’s was a good idea because you’re so smart and driven.”

“Okay, I hear you.” Jessie tried to stop Elizabeth Armstrong’s high praise, but it was too late.

“Not only that, but you know how much I appreciate you at home, too. Life hasn’t been easy since Dad died, but when I had to work, you always stepped in and minded the younger ones and cleaned.”

“Mum, you’re embarrassing me.”

“You even ironed. Now, don’t get me wrong, your siblings are a big help to me, too, and little Tristan is getting bigger by the day, but believe me when I say we miss you.”
 

“Oh, Mum, I miss you guys, too. Tristan most of all.”

“ ‘You guys’? Are you talking American now?”

Jessie laughed. “Hardly. It’s been a little over two months since I landed here.”

“The year will be over before you even realize you’re there, pet. Now go and enjoy yourself. Just don’t fall in love. It would break my heart if you stayed in the States with some American man.”

“Mum, as if. Although . . .” She didn’t know whether to tell her or not. Part of her knew her mother would worry, but then again, they had never kept secrets. Maybe it was a bad idea to start now.

“Jessica?” Elizabeth must have already heard the hesitation in her voice. “Have you something to tell me?”

“Well . . .” She wove a strand of her hair through her fingers. “Um, so I met this guy last week. He’s a fireman.”

“Ooh, isn’t that dangerous?”

“Not the night I met him. Believe me, Mum, it’s not all raging fires and heroic rescues. These guys have a lot of humdrum to deal with, too.”

“You mean like cats up trees?”

“Yes, and burnt toast.”

Elizabeth laughed. “They wouldn’t come out for something as daft as that, would they?”

Jessie flicked her hair away and coughed to clear her throat. “Anyway, his name is Dan and he’s asked me out.”

“So you haven’t been on the date yet?”

“No, he’s collecting me any minute now. I just wanted to tell you.”

“Thanks, luv. Just don’t let it get serious. You know that wouldn’t be wise.”

Jessie was quick to reply. “Oh, I don’t have any intention of falling in love, Mum. It’s just a date. He seems like a nice guy.”

She made sure to sound convincing so her mother accepted it. “Well, you deserve a little fun time, too, dear. It’s just so important to remember I need you back at the end of the year. You won’t lose sight of that, will you?”

“I swear, Mum. I’ll keep my head screwed on. I’m here to study, and then I’m coming home to London. I’ll get a great job and earn enough money so you can stop working and everybody can go to good colleges. That’s my plan. Nothing and no one is going to make that change.”

“Good girl.” Elizabeth Armstrong sounded content. “Have a good time with this Dan chap,” she said, and soon after, they finished their call.

Jessie checked her reflection again. She’d spent too much time getting ready, and Ely had understood pretty fast that she was going on a date. For a change, the girl went easy on her, because she’d admitted that it had taken Dan a whole week to phone her.
 

Either he wasn’t interested, or he was playing it cool. Neither was an attractive option. When he had, at last, phoned her, Jessie played it cool, too. She had pretended she didn’t remember him. He’d laughed it off and reintroduced himself. They had talked for a while, and then he’d asked her out. After a little stalling, she had accepted. The truth was she so wanted to go out with him. He was damn good-looking, and she remembered how brave he’d looked walking into the house with her. Never mind there was no fire—he had a swagger about him and a confidence that said if there
had
been a fire, he would have been able to handle it.
 

As it was, he had managed the fire and intruder alarms with marvelous finesse. Yes, he was all man, and she would have been crazy not to accept a date with him, but her guard was up. If she thought he was cute and manly, chances were lots of girls thought the same. This was another reason she had no intention of getting serious with him—he might have had loads of girlfriends, and that was why he’d taken so long to call her.

Her cell phone buzzed. No name came up with the number, so she was pretty sure it was Dan. When he’d last called, she had ignored the urge to save his number. If he wanted her, he would call. She wasn’t going to have his number in her phone’s memory. That way she couldn’t accidently butt dial him or maybe even send him a text about how gorgeous he was after half a bottle of wine.
 

Jessie answered the phone. “Hullo.”

“So which building is yours?” he asked without even introducing himself. He was so damn self-assured.

“I’ll come down.” There was no way she was letting him inside her room. Nor did she want him to know she lived in an all-girl house—how juvenile was that?
 

On the night of the fire, Jessie’s hair had been clipped up. This afternoon, she let it hang down her back, long and loose. Her light blond curls danced around her shoulders and down her back over a navy blue puff jacket. Under that, she had a pair of faded denim jeans and trainers. She hoped he would approve.

Jessie trotted out of the building but stopped short when she got outside and looked around. There was no sign of Dan. She took her phone out and considered the possibility of redialing the number that had just called her, but then a guy in a biker jacket and helmet walked toward her. He waved, and she looked back over her shoulder. When he took off the motorcycle helmet and smiled, she realized it was Dan.

“Hi,” she said. “I didn’t recognize you with that thing on.”