Читать книгу Their Forever Home - Syndi Powell - Страница 13

THE OFFICES FOR the Belvedere Foundation were located in a skyscraper in downtown Detroit. Cassie had to pay ten dollars to park her truck in a multistory concrete lot. She hated to hand over the money but had given up trying to find a free, open spot on a side street.

She slammed the truck door shut, then looked down at her outfit. She didn’t have to be as dressed up as she had the night before at the launch event, but she couldn’t show up in her usual T-shirt and jeans, either. After consulting with her sister, she’d chosen a plain white cotton shirt and a pair of beige pants that her mother had probably stuffed in her closet at some point. It wasn’t fancy, but she wanted to look as if she belonged.

Because despite everything that had been printed about her in the morning paper, she deserved to be there. Didn’t she?

Two security guards met her in the lobby of the glass-and-chrome skyscraper and directed her toward the Belvedere Foundation’s boardroom, where the meeting was to be held. She felt tempted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming all this. She’d really made it this far in the contest, and all that was left was to win the entire thing.

Opening the heavy door to the boardroom, she quickly scanned the crowd before she strode in with a confidence that she didn’t quite feel. Better to fake it from the beginning. Some heads turned toward her, but then the people returned to their conversations. Ignoring the dismissal, she tried to focus on the advice Andie had given her over the phone that morning. “You earned your place, Cass. Don’t let them take it from you. Instead, you show them what we Lowmans are made of. Grit and determination.”

“Grit and determination,” Cassie mumbled under her breath as she squared her shoulders and headed for a long, narrow table to the side, set with a continental breakfast. She loaded her plate with fresh fruit and a cinnamon roll rivaling the size of her head, before she moved down the table to the large carafes that held coffee and hot water for tea. She poured a mug and held it up to her face, inhaling the heady scent of coffee beans. Ah, ambrosia for her soul.

“Hey, partner.”

John was pouring his own cup of coffee. “Good morning to you. How did you sleep?”

He gave her a wry grin and shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep. I had so many ideas bubbling in my brain that I stayed up late drawing different sketches of the house.”

“Sketches are good.”

He took a long sip of coffee, then sighed. “We’re going to need a coffee maker at the house since I subsist on caffeine and pizza. And that’s on a good day.”

She laughed and nodded. “Me, too.” She had an old percolator that she was in the habit of hauling to each work site because she couldn’t get through her day without regular infusions of caffeine.

“Well, we have one thing in common at least.” He glanced at the others in the room. “Is it just me or do you feel like we’re the underdogs in this contest? That the contestants have dismissed us already as competitors?”

It was what had kept her up the night before, tossing and turning as she mulled over her doubts. True, she had made it this far, but now what? She felt as if she and John had lost already before the contest had even started. “You’re not imagining that. I feel it, too.”

She noticed his brown eyes held a golden gleam in them. “We could use that to our advantage, you know. Let them underestimate us. And in the meantime, we’ll swoop in and take the top prize.”

She wished she had such confidence. “Do you really think we could win?”

Before he could answer, Christopher Belvedere swept through the door, flanked by a pair of assistants presumably, and called for everyone’s attention. The rest of the contestants took seats around the main table that dominated the room. John found them two available seats and used his free hand to pull her chair out for her before sitting down himself. Mr. Belvedere stood at a lectern at one end of the table. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. If we could all listen up, we can begin this first meeting.” He nodded at his assistants. “We’re passing around information sheets with the rules and regulations for the contest. Much of this is a repeat of what we discussed during your interviews, but I’d like to go over each item and address any questions.”

A thick sheaf of papers was dropped down on the table, next to Cassie’s plate. She skimmed the first page as she bit into a fresh strawberry. Most of the text was standard rules and regulations for renovating a house. Permits would be pulled, inspections made regularly. She didn’t have a chance to read it all before Mr. Belvedere started talking.

“First, let me congratulate you all on being chosen. You are all part of an elite group of builders and designers, the cream of the crop in Detroit.”

The affirmation made Cassie’s heart want to sing out. See that? She was special.

“Second, since this is the premier contest there may be unexpected challenges for you and us as we navigate these unchartered waters. The mayor has assured us that he will assist us in the necessary bureaucracy of the city’s agencies. That being said, I am also here to help you in getting permits arranged, inspections cleared, and so on. Do not hesitate to reach out to me or my office.”

Seated across the table from Cassie, Beckett raised his hand. “I have a question about the security of these houses. Is there anything in place to protect our work?”

Mr. Belvedere cleared his throat and spoke again. “All of you were chosen not only for your talent and skills but also for your integrity. We have confidence that no one will be stealing ideas or anything else.”

Several people turned to look at Cassie, and she bristled under the attention. She wasn’t here to take something that didn’t belong to her, but to prove that she had what it took to keep her father’s business going until he returned and was exonerated. She shook her head and muttered, “Why do I feel like there’s a target on my back?”

John inclined his head toward hers and whispered, “Like I said, we should use that to our advantage.”

The meeting continued as they reviewed the packet of information, including a list of vendors who were helping to sponsor the contest and would provide deep discounts. She perused the names and gave a nod. She knew many of them from previous jobs, so she could vouch for the quality of their materials.

The doors to the boardroom opened, and several assistants walked in with large cardboard boxes. Mr. Belvedere smirked. “And here is our first challenge in the contest. As you know, homes are getting smarter as more technology is used to enhance the lives of those who live there. We want these homes to use cutting-edge digital devices to make them safer as well as more practical. In each box, you will find a suite of technology to be incorporated into your projects. Home connectivity and security systems that will bring these residences into the twenty-first century. This is a step up from current systems sold, the next generation of symbiotic connectivity. With this technology, the families that move into your homes will be able to make their lives easier with a simple spoken command.”

A box was placed in front of Cassie and John. She rose to her feet and opened the lid, groaning at the sight of a bunch of computerized circuitry. She’d never been good at this part of the job. Give her a piece of pipe to replace or a socket to install, any day. But electronics and cable? She shuddered at the thought.

John stood next to her and perused the items in the box, as well, and shrugged. “I installed my own home sound system, so maybe I can help the experts. Won’t we have to plan where we want the walls before the cables can be placed correctly?”

“Yes. And, how will all this fit in with your ideas?”

He stared at her, and she swallowed her irritation. His eyes didn’t waver or show any doubt as he answered, “We’ll make it work.”

She nodded and sat back down.

Mr. Belvedere tapped a pen on the lectern. “We’ll have more challenges as we go along, and I look forward to seeing how you incorporate them into your designs. In the near future, you will also be assigned a family who will be gifted the home at the end of the contest, so keep that in mind as you design.”

He wished them good luck, reminded them of the three-month deadline and left the room.

John packed everything back into the box and placed the lid on top. He checked his watch before his gaze landed on her. “Do you have plans now? I thought we should go over some of the sketches and get a jump on where to start.”

“I’m all yours.” She frowned at how that sounded. “I mean, I’m free. Do you want to go to the house to do that? We need to start determining what stays and what goes before demolition tomorrow.”

He finished his coffee, then placed the empty cup on the table. “No, I want to get some real food. Do you know Lolly’s on Grand Boulevard? We could meet there and have lunch.”

“Great,” she replied, following him as he carried the tech box out of the building.

JOHN HELD THE door to the diner open for Cassie, and they took a booth near the back. He waved to a waitress, who brought over a full carafe of coffee and placed it on a ceramic stone in the center of the table. “Ah, Marie, you know me so well. Leave your no-good husband and marry me instead.”

She laughed as she poured the first mug and handed it to him. “You couldn’t afford me.”

He took a quick sip of the black brew. “You spoil me, so I’d have to find a way to treat you well. Even if it meant robbing a bank.”

She hit him on the shoulder with a plastic menu before placing it in front of him. He chuckled as Marie handed a menu to Cassie, who was staring at him, eyebrows raised. “I take it they know you here.”

“I’m a bachelor who lives around the corner and eats most of my meals at Lolly’s.” Relaxed, he put his arms across the back of the booth. “I couldn’t ask for a better kitchen.”

Cassie shook her head and opened the menu.

Once they ordered, John took his time stirring cream into his coffee, focusing on each turn of the spoon. The clink it made as it hit the side of the mug. The milk-scented steam rising. The dark brown swirling into an ecru. It was almost like a ritual before he brought the cup to his lips and sipped from it. He sighed in appreciation.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you like coffee.”

“Nope.” He took another sip and closed his eyes. “And I’ll need lots of it to do my best work.”

Cassie laid her hands on the table. “Before we get into the nuts and bolts of what we’re about to do, I have a question for you. Why did you enter the contest?”

“I needed a new challenge and a new career. This contest seemed to provide both.” He eyed her over the coffee mug. “What about you? Why did you enter the contest?”

“When we win, I’m going to use the money and the publicity to bring back Lowman Construction to what it once was.”

John gave a whistle. “When we win, huh? I like the sound of that. Which reminds me...” He brought out his sketchbook, flipped through a few pages and laid it open on the table. “This is a rough idea of the current floor plan. It will help me to stay focused on the space available.” He pointed to a page and slid the book closer to Cassie. “This is what I’m thinking for the kitchen.”

Cassie looked up from the book. “The kitchen? The living room’s not the priority?”

“Kitchens are where everyone spends most of their time, right?”

He turned to another page. “Without cabinets and a sink already in place, we can design the kitchen however we wish, from top to bottom. I saw this farmhouse sink at a salvage yard that would be perfect, and I thought that—”

She held up a hand. “Who said anything about a salvage yard?”

“Me. Just now.”

“I’m not putting junk in our house.”

“I didn’t say anything about junk.” He pointed to the sketch of the sink he’d drawn from memory. “This is a good-quality piece that just needs a good home. And it’ll cost a lot less than any we’d find at those pricey vendors on the list.”

“I’m not putting anything used in our house. We need new, quality materials that will put us over the top. Don’t you want to win?”

“Let’s face it. I didn’t enter the contest to lose, and neither did you. ” He glanced up as Marie placed their meals in front of them and he thanked her. “Cassie, I think that this could give us an edge over our competitors. Repurposing what we can and finding salvaged pieces where we can’t. Everyone else can be slightly different versions of each other, but we’ll be unique.”

Cassie shook her head. “No, we’ll look as if we bought our supplies at a garage sale. My dad would never have done that.”

“Do you always do what your dad would have wanted? You can’t honestly be that naive.” He grabbed up his soupspoon, but then paused. “Haven’t you done any research? Salvaging is a big trend, and it’s one I want to incorporate into my ideas.”

“Don’t forget that they may be your ideas, but it’s our house. I have a say in this, too.” She picked at her sandwich. “I’ve never worked with salvaged materials,” she mumbled.

“Is that why you’re afraid to try them?”

She raised her head to glare at him. “I’m not afraid.”

She might have said the words, but the quaver in her voice told him that she probably wrestled with the same fears that had kept him up the night before. “Aren’t you? You have a lot riding on this contest.”

“As do you.”

He nodded and leaned forward. “Exactly. This is why I want to step out of the cookie-cutter mold everyone else will use and do something different.”

She plucked a piece of bacon from the BLT and stuffed it in her mouth. He could almost see the gears in her brain working as she chewed. Finally she swallowed and turned to another page of his sketchbook. “I’m willing to consider it. Now what’s this?”

He ran a finger along the edge of the picture. He’d thought of this when he remembered his grandmother’s house and drawing pictures at the kitchen table when he was about six years old. “That’s the window in the breakfast nook. I’d like to turn it into a window seat, which will save space and provide storage beneath it.”

“Now, that I like.”

They flipped through more sketches, and she commented on several. Reaching the last of them, she gave a nod. “You do have some good ideas.”

“But you’re not sold on them yet.”

“No.” She fidgeted with her napkin. “John, this contest means I can turn my father’s company into my own. We need to be number one. Second place still makes us losers.”

He reached over and put his hand on top of hers, stilling it for a moment. “This is my second chance at finding my life’s work. It used to be cars, but getting laid off made me realize that I was ready for a change. Something that will bring back that love of design. I want this as much as you do.”

She removed her hand from his. “I understand. More than you know.”

AFTER LUNCH, BACK at the house, Cassie stared up at the next three months of her life, dilapidated as it was. In the light of day, the home looked worse than she had remembered it. Could she and John and the Buttuccis do as the Belvedere Foundation wanted and find the jewel underneath the rubble?

John walked up behind her. “I don’t remember it looking so abandoned and sad last night.”

“Dusk can hide a lot of flaws.” She held up the key to the front door. “Let’s take our time and do another walk-through.”

“Let me grab my sketchbook.” He left her and retrieved it from the front seat of his car along with a tin that held his charcoal pencils. “I want to do a quick sketch of the exterior before we go in.”

She pointed at the blank page and then at him. “You draw. I’m going in.”

But he was already absorbed in getting the lines of the house drawn on paper. She noticed the weeds growing from between the cement slabs. How much of their budget could they allocate to landscaping? Much of the neglect only needed some muscle to fix, which wouldn’t cost anything but several hours. She put a hand on the overgrown browning shrubs that flanked the front porch. Some pruning might bring them back to life.

She glanced behind her. John was frowning as he continued to sketch. Was he seeing the same neglect that she saw? Or did his artistic eye see possibilities that she couldn’t get to yet? Shaking off the thoughts, she unlocked the front door and stepped inside.

The hole where Biggie had fallen through the floor to the ground gaped at her as if it, too, was surprised to find itself there. She knelt and stared down at the crawl space revealed below. If the house had sat on a basement, he would have fallen through the rotting floor at least ten feet instead of only the few that he had. The damp wood along the jagged edges seemed to indicate it was more a cause of rotting wood rather than the foundation. Thankfully, it might mean the problem was limited to the living room and did not pervade the entire house.

The front door swung open and John breezed in with his sketchbook. He groaned at the hole. “I’d almost forgotten about that.”

Cassie put her hands on her knees and pushed herself to a standing position. “I wish I had. We’ll have to walk carefully in this room until we know for sure how much of the floorboards have rotted. I don’t know if it’s extended to the bedrooms or not.”

He nodded and took careful steps toward the hall that led to the bedrooms and bathroom. “The layout looks smaller than I remember.”

“It was probably made in the years immediately after World War II, when houses were built quickly and with only the basic needs in mind. My guess is that we have about fifteen hundred square feet. Eighteen hundred, if we’re lucky.” She knelt and touched the green shag carpet in the hallway. “It’s not damp here, so we might be okay with the floors through the rest of the house.”

John drew more lines and curves on the page before moving into one of the bedrooms. “I wonder if we could get a hold of the original blueprints for this place.”

“Maybe.” She opened the folding closet door. “We could probably check the attic.” She pointed to a covered access point. “I can grab my ladder from the truck if we want to go up now.”

“With all the spiders and creepy crawlies, not to mention dust and cobwebs?” He shuddered and gave a grimace. “I’ll wait until we’re dressed more appropriately.”

“Chicken.”

He waggled his eyebrows and walked across the hall to the bathroom, which sported avocado green and harvest gold tiles. Based on the colors, style and condition, she figured it had been renovated in the 1970s. John frowned. “You don’t see a green toilet very often.”

“Don’t forget the matching avocado bathtub.” She put a hand on the shower rod and gave it a tug. It didn’t budge, and she figured that meant the tiles and fixtures would be harder to remove. “We’ll need to replace all of this. I’m thinking a fiberglass shower enclosure and bathtub. Maybe a low-flush toilet. Pedestal sink.”

“Maybe.”

She raised her eyebrows at this. “You want to keep green and gold?”

He shuddered much as he had at the mention of spiders. “I like the green. Maybe combine it with a color like ecru to make it more earthy. More Zen. And a pedestal sink won’t give much storage in an already cramped space.”

“Yes, but it will open up the look of the room more than a cabinet with a sink would.”

“Maybe.”

She put her hands on her hips and stared at him. “Do you plan on disagreeing with everything I say?”

“I’m leaving us open to options right now.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Back in the kitchen, they peered at the walls. She said, “The age of the house could be to our advantage because the structure was built to last. If we gut it to the studs, we can open things up and make it look bigger.”

“What about removing the wall between here and the living room? So that it’s more like one large room rather than two? Maybe like this.” He sketched a quick floor plan to demonstrate what he meant.

Cassie put her hand on the doorjamb and looked up at the ceiling. “That could be a load-bearing wall, so we’ll have to take that into consideration. But I can see what you mean. I like it.”

He grinned and walked toward the kitchen window, tucking the sketchpad under his arm. “So when do we start?”

“We’ll start demolition tomorrow, especially on the bathroom. Tear up the floor in the living room. Take the walls down to the studs to see what we’re working with underneath. And then what comes after that depends on you and your designs.”

The cell phone in her front pants pocket started to vibrate. She pulled it out and stared at the number on the display. It wasn’t one that she recognized. Tempted to let the call go to voice mail, she changed her mind suddenly and swiped to the right to answer it. “Lowman Construction.”

“Cass.”

Her father.

She held her breath, not knowing what to say. She hadn’t heard from him in almost a year, since the day before he disappeared. They’d been working on a job site, and he’d said good-night to her as he always did while she stayed behind to secure it before going home herself. There’d been no indication he was about to flee. No hint that he was even under investigation. She noticed John, so she stepped into the living room for privacy.

“Cass, you don’t really think a contest is going to help, do you? I wouldn’t have done it.”

“You didn’t give me much of a choice. It will help me get the company back.” She blinked quickly to keep the tears from falling. “Daddy, where are you?”

Silence. She held the phone away from her to see that he’d already hung up. She checked her call history and pressed her finger to the last number received. But it only rang until she gave up.