“I don’t like German chocolate cake,” Granny said.
But Donna had a height and weight advantage and muscled Granny from the room.
When they were gone, Jessica turned toward Ashley. “I’m sorry,” she said.
Ashley laughed. “For what? Saving my cousin’s life? Honey, don’t let your grandmother get you down. Barbara is one of the sourest people I’ve ever met. I don’t think we’d ever be friends except that she was one of the original members of the Piece Makers, so…” She picked up the sweatpants and held them out. “There’s a bathroom down the hall.”
Jessica took the clothes and headed toward a small bathroom tucked under the eaves. She closed the door, shucked out of her wet clothes, and toweled off.
“So why were you here?” Ashley asked through the door. “I thought you presented your plans this morning.”
“You knew about that?”
“I saw you go into the cottage with a portfolio, and I know he’s hired you to design a house for him.”
As Jessica pulled on sweatpants, the reality of the situation tumbled down on her. No way she was escaping the gossip this time. She may have rescued him, but she had no illusions that she’d end up the hero of this story. Granny would tell everyone what a fool she’d been to jump in the water to save him. Granny would also make sure that the entire community knew that she’d personally warned Jessica not to help Topher build his house because he wasn’t able to live on his own. Lord help Jess if Ashley ever found out that her thoughtless comment the other day had pushed Topher out into the bay to swim.
A deep, familiar shame pooled inside her. She could see how all the blame would eventually end up on her shoulders. Because it always did.
“What I’d like to know is why you came back this afternoon,” Ashley said.
Jessica pulled the hoodie over her head and stared at her pale face in the bathroom mirror. Should she be honest?
What else could she be? She truly believed in the scripture verse about the truth setting you free.
“The truth is, we had a disagreement,” she said. “I came back to try to salvage the situation.”
“Oh, well, arguing with Topher isn’t surprising. He’s been an ogre recently. What did you disagree about?”
“My designs. I didn’t give him what he wanted.”
“Also not a surprise.”
Jessica opened the bathroom door. “Why do you say that?” Jessica asked.
Ashley was leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her breasts. She looked worried. “Topher wants something he can’t have.”
“Oh?”
“He wants to go back to when everything was easy. Back when we were kids, my uncle John, Topher’s grandfather, had big plans for a house out there on the island where all of us kids could sail and play and have fun. Topher wants to go back to that time, and who the hell wouldn’t? But childhood has come and gone, you know?”
“Yeah,” Jessica said, even though she didn’t understand at all. Topher’s childhood sounded idyllic. Not at all like her own, where she’d been required to walk the straight and narrow, speak softly, and behave. But then she’d always known Topher was a spoiled brat.
“Look, I know you mean well,” Ashley said in a kind voice. “But even Uncle John never dreamed about living alone on Lookout Island, and after what happened today, surely you can see why it would be foolish for Topher to live out there alone.”
A wellspring of familiar guilt bubbled inside her. “Yes,” she said in a small voice.
“So I’m pleading with you. If you walk away from this, I might just be able to convince him to give up this ridiculous idea.”
It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Building out there would be difficult even if he knew what kind of house he wanted.
And it was even worse than that, wasn’t it? Topher knew his quest was crazy. Hadn’t he asked her that question last week when they’d sailed out to the island?
And she’d lied to him.
She could walk away, and Ashley Scott might praise her. It might be wise to get on Ashley’s good side because she was a powerful woman in the community.
But no. Acquiescing would be wrong.
If Topher wanted to build a house, he should be able to build it any-darn-where he wanted to. It wasn’t anyone’s choice but his. And maybe swimming was a good thing for him. Maybe he’d get stronger. Maybe he would be able to climb to the top of the lighthouse one more time.
Or she’d just put a GD elevator in the thing so he could go up there and brood, if that’s what he wanted to do.
She met Ashley’s intense and worried gaze. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I do understand. But I’m not going to walk away from this project. If Topher wants a house, he should have one.”
Chapter Eight
Jessica took the long way back to her car, through the Howland House rose garden, intent on swinging by the cottage to tell Topher that she was ready to try again and capture what he wanted in a house.
But her client seemed to be in the middle of a heated argument with his cousins. His angry voice carried all the way out to the garden.
She certainly didn’t want to interject herself into that scene. So she beat a hasty retreat.
The next morning, she awoke to a minor plumbing disaster. MeeMaw’s house was falling down around her ears, so discovering a leak under the kitchen sink wasn’t all that surprising. A week ago, she would have called Colton and asked him to come by and take a look. But that option was now fraught with danger.
So after drinking a strong cup of coffee out on the porch while simultaneously consulting YouTube plumbing videos, she determined that the problem was a leak in the P-trap. She could fix this herself.
She put a Tupperware container under the drip and headed into the office. She’d swing by Wright’s Hardware on the way back from work to get the supplies she needed.
She settled in at her desk and pulled up her business plan, a document she hadn’t looked at in more than six months. After she’d finished the Akiyama project and it had scored a write-up in a local newspaper, a steady stream of projects had arrived at her doorstep.
But the buzz had died and her prospective clients had dried up. Topher’s project would tide her over, but she still needed to think about what came next.
She worked on her plan for an hour, and then, when ten o’clock rolled around, she picked up her phone and called Topher. Of course she got his voice mail.
She left a message, asking him to call her back to schedule a time when they could meet and discuss where the original plans had gone off the track.
She was about to turn back to her business plan when the sound of her front door opening pulled her away. The door closed and rapid footsteps sounded on the stairs.
So it wasn’t Topher. No way he could climb stairs like that.
Her office suite was a medium-sized loft without any walls at all. She had plans, once funds became available, to partition the space to make it feel more finished and cozy. But right now Blackwood Designs consisted of her desk, an executive chair, a CAD workstation, a plotter, and a small round conference table with four chairs.
She hadn’t hung any artwork or any of her degrees or accolades. In short, her office looked as if she’d moved in a month ago. Which was nothing but the truth.