True Love (6 page)

“I’m not talking about your father,” Izzy said.

Alix took a deep drink of her Planter’s Punch. Usually she got drunk easily but she was on her second rum drink and wasn’t even feeling a buzz. “I want to
learn
from Jared Montgomery. If I show up in shorts and a halter or some designer concoction, he’s going to look at me like he did at that girl today.”

“So where’s the problem with
that
?” Izzy asked.

“I don’t think he took her seriously as an intelligent being, do you?”

Izzy sipped her champagne. “You and work! Don’t you ever think of anything else?”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“What’s wrong with you thinking only about work?” Izzy was incredulous. “Jared Montgomery is over six feet of muscle! He walks into a room and every female in there goes limp. Her forehead lights up with a sign that says
TAKE ME. PLEASE
. There’s never been a woman who has turned him down, but you … All you can think about is his
mind
. I didn’t know he had one. Alixandra, you’re getting old.”

Alix took another long drink, then set her glass on the rug. “You think so? You think I don’t see him as a man? Stay here and I’ll show you something.”

She ran up the stairs to get her laptop and turned it on so that by the time she got back down to Izzy the screen was on. She had to go through about eight levels of files before the document she’d always hidden came up.

Jared’s Lower Lip

Soft and succulent, luscious and firm

Beguiling, enticing, calling to me

A Siren’s song, Pied Piper’s flute

I dream of it asleep, awake

To touch it, caress it, kiss it

The tip of my tongue, breaths mingling

To draw it in, to caress it

To feel it against my own

Ah, Jared’s lower lip.

Izzy read it three times before she looked up. “You
do
think of him as a man. Wow! Do you ever!”

“It was a few years ago—after we’d heard him speak, and you and I’d spent hours talking about him. Remember how he built his final project for school? No drawings or model for him. He
built
it with hammer and nails. My dad says that it should be mandatory that one year of architecture school be spent doing construction. He said—” She broke off because Izzy had stood up.

“Come on. Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“We’re going to look inside his guesthouse.”

“We can’t do that,” Alix said as she stood up.

“I saw you looking out the windows, just as I was, and you saw the place in the back. Two stories, big window in front.”

“We can’t—”

“This may be our only chance. He’s away on his fishing boat and you know that we came early. He doesn’t know we’re here.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” Izzy said. “But maybe when he knows a fanatical architecture student is here in this house he’ll put bars on his windows and doors.”

Alix hadn’t thought of that. “I’ll be subtle. I’ll tell him how much I admire his work and—”

“And his lower lip? Did you ever consider that he might have a girlfriend? Just because he isn’t married—or wasn’t the last time either of us searched the Internet—and because he was alone on a fishing boat doesn’t mean he’s celibate. Do you think
she
is going to let you in the house?”

Alix knew that what Izzy was suggesting was wrong, but on the other hand maybe he had drawings here. Maybe this was her one and only chance to have a private viewing of a Montgomery design before the world saw it.

Izzy could see that Alix was wavering and she half pushed, half pulled her out the side door and down the garden path to the guesthouse. It was tall and had heavy curtains over the windows; it looked almost forbidding.

Izzy took a breath and tried the front door. Locked.

“We can’t do this,” Alix said as she turned back toward the house.

But Izzy caught her arm and led her around the side.

“Maybe we can see his bedroom,” she whispered. “Or his closet. Or his—”

“
How
old are you?”

“Right now I feel about fourteen.”

Alix took a step back. “I really don’t think we should—” Suddenly, she halted, her eyes wide.

“What is it?” Izzy gasped. “Please tell me you aren’t seeing a ghost. I read that Nantucket is one of the most haunted places in the world.”

“It’s a light,” Alix whispered.

“He left a light on?” Izzy stepped back to look up and she saw what looked to be a desk lamp, the kind that would reach across a drafting table. “You’re right. Do you think he has a home studio?
Now
do you think we should go in?”

Alix was already at the window and trying to raise it. It slid up easily. “Andersen Thermopane, twelve over twelve,” she mumbled as she gave a jump and hoisted herself inside, leaving Izzy to get in by herself.

Once she was inside, Alix quickly glanced around. There was a dim light on in the kitchen so she could see a living room and dining area. All one room. It looked to be a nice place, but she wanted to see where that light was. She hurried up the stairs, opened the door on the right, and saw a room with windows on three sides. She knew the light would be beautiful during the day. There was an old rug on the hardwood floor and under the windows was an antique drafting table, probably from the Edwardian era. Beside it was a little cabinet, the top covered with drawing supplies. In a day of computer drafting systems, it was wonderful to see actual drawings with pencil, pen, and ink. She touched his mechanical pencils, all of them lined up by lead, from hard to soft. There was an erasing
shield, brushes, and a T-square. There was no drafting machine anywhere.

To the right was a wall covered by his drawings. They were for the construction of small structures, not houses, and each one was exquisite in both concept and execution. There were two sheds, a guesthouse, a children’s play set. Three garage plans were next to sketches for garden structures. Nearly every bit of empty wall space had been covered with his drawings and draftings.

“They’re beautiful, wonderful. Magnificent,” she whispered.

She stepped back to the doorway to take it all in. The room felt like a shrine or a sanctuary. “I bet he never invites anyone in here,” she said aloud.

What surprised her was how much she and this man thought alike. She deeply believed that beauty could and should be found in the smallest object. Whether it was a soap dish or a mansion, to give it beauty was of utmost importance.

“Wow!” Izzy said from behind her. “It’s like …”

“Something on a ship?”

“Yeah, it’s very much like a movie set for a captain’s cabin.”

Alix was trying to take in every inch of the room. There were old things everywhere. A piece of antique china with “Kingsley” written on it. Taking up one corner was a carved wooden ship’s figurehead of a mermaid, weathered as though she had sailed through many oceans.

“Didn’t their family used to have whaling ships?” Izzy asked.

“Mostly the China trade.” Even as she said it, Alix had no idea how she knew that. “I didn’t read of any whalers in the family,” she added to cover herself. She walked around, touching things, memorizing them. If she had a home office it would look exactly like this. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Frankly, no,” Izzy said. “I want everything computerized. Deliver me from pen and ink. This place isn’t my style.” Outside, a car door slammed and they looked at each other in panic. “We better get out of here.”

Reluctantly, Alix started to follow her friend down the stairs but turned back for one last look. On the floor had fallen a freehand sketch of a little garden pavilion. It was octagonal with a roof like an upside-down tulip. Without thinking about what she was doing, she picked it up, stuck it in the waistband of her trousers, and hurried down the stairs.

Chapter Three

A
lix leaned back in the chair and looked at the paper model she’d made of the chapel she’d designed. It hadn’t been easy to construct since all she’d had was card stock and tape. It was late afternoon and she was in the big room at the back of the old house, the one where she felt warmth and happiness. She knew without being told that when she was a child she’d spent a lot of time in this room. She remembered building little houses that had towers and turrets. At first she’d used old wooden blocks, and had piled up objects she found in drawers and on shelves. Then came Legos, her favorite childhood toy. There had been a great box full of them and in the bottom were little boats that she built sheds for.

While she’d played, there was music playing, soft and light, but no TV. Most important, there was a woman always nearby. Alix
could almost see her smiling and approving. And sometimes there were other people. A young man who always looked worried. And a tall boy who smelled like the sea. There were smiling ladies who ate little cakes with yellow rosebuds on them. She could remember the taste of the petits fours and the itchiness of her new dress.

Over the big fireplace was a portrait of a lady.
MISS ADELAIDE KINGSLEY
, the label said. From her hair and clothes it looked to have been painted in the 1930s. She was pretty in a sedate, respectable-looking way, but there was a twinkle in her eye. The woman Alix was remembering more clearly by the hour was much older than in the portrait, but Alix well knew that sparkle in her eye. It seemed to say that she knew and saw things that others didn’t, but she wasn’t telling what. Except that she had shared her knowledge with Alix. She couldn’t remember exactly what Aunt Addy had told her, but Alix still felt the love that had been there—and the shared secrets.

Alix had wanted to spend the day with Izzy exploring the old house and walking around Nantucket. After all, her friend would leave soon. And Alix feared that once she was back on the mainland, Izzy would delve so deeply into planning her wedding that she and Alix wouldn’t have much contact. Toward the end of the summer, Alix would be Izzy’s maid of honor and Izzy would be married—and that would be the end of their girl friendship. Alix tried not to think how Izzy’s impending marriage would separate them.

It had been an excellent plan to spend the day together, but it didn’t happen. Alix awoke early with her mind fully on the possibility of showing her work to the Great Jared Montgomery. If he liked what he saw, maybe she could get an interview for a job at his firm. At the very least she’d show him what an eager-to-learn student she could be.

She lay in Aunt Addy’s bed in the early morning, her arms behind her head, looking up at the silk rose. Even if she didn’t get a job with him, to be his student—even if it was just for a few weeks—would be the highlight of her architectural studies. She could definitely put it on her résumé. And more important, she’d learn masses from him.

She wanted to design something to impress him. A house? How could she do that in just a couple of days? She was good at freehand sketching so maybe she could do some façades. But then she’d need to see the land. Everyone knew that Montgomery believed in buildings coming from the land, from the environment. He did
not
believe in mock Tudors in Dallas.

“What can I draw to impress him?” she whispered aloud.

As Alix lay there thinking and coming up with nothing, a small framed picture fell off the table against the far wall. Surprisingly, the disturbance in the still room didn’t startle her, but it did make her sit upright.

She got out of bed, her old T-shirt and threadbare sweatpants drafty in the cool morning. While she didn’t understand why, she knew the picture that had fallen was important. Picking it up, she saw a photo from the 1940s of two young women laughing. They wore pretty summer dresses and looked happy.

It had been a nice thought that the picture held some significance, but she couldn’t see what that was. She put the photo back on the table and headed for the bathroom, but then she stopped, turned back, and picked up the picture again. In the background, in the far distance, was a small church. Maybe not even a church but a chapel, like those private family ones she’d seen when she and her father had visited England.

For a moment Alix envisioned Jared Montgomery’s home office and his designs for garden sculptures and gazebos, for arbors and a little garden shed.

“Small,” she whispered. “He’d like to see something small and exquisite.” She looked over at the big portrait of the Kingsley ancestor, Captain Caleb, and had an almost irresistible urge to say thank you.

Shaking her head at her nonsense, she went to the bathroom and tied back her hair. When she came out, she pulled her big red notebook from her new bag, and got back into bed.

Maybe it was the nearness of Izzy’s wedding, or maybe it was the
search for something small that Montgomery had not designed, or perhaps the idea came from the fallen photo. Whatever the cause, Alix started sketching chapels. She rarely forgot a building, and she drew what she remembered.