Falling (13 page)

L
ater that morning, Lisa phones, her voice high with excitement. Her husband has given her the go-ahead to get the house decorated on the budget they discussed, so she'd like Emma to get started right away. Should she accompany Emma to the stores? she asks. Emma senses she is nervous about giving up control, even though she doesn't want to do the hard part.

“You can,” says Emma dubiously. “But it can be very hard to picture how things are going to work in the room until you see them all together. But don't worry, I won't buy anything that can't be returned if you don't like it, and I can always text you photos if you'd like. You have the big pieces already; all I really need to do is accessorize.”

“Okay,” says Lisa. “Don't worry about texting photos. I trust you. Do you think you'll be able to get it done by the end of next week?”

“It's tight, but I should be able to do it,” says Emma. “Why don't
I come over on Friday morning at nine to get the rooms set up. Does that sound okay?”

“Is there any chance you could come by on Thursday morning, instead?”

Emma realizes that she's going to need to get started right this minute. “Sure,” she says to Lisa. “I'll see you then.”

She starts with Pier 1, where she finds bamboo end tables that look far more expensive than they actually are. She adds three big faux orchids, knowing she will have to break the baskets they are glued into and find something else to put them in.

At the consignment store she finds two midcentury modern chairs, and a pair of white Foo dog lamps that have been sitting there for months. They are whimsical and fun, and she gets them for less than sticker price.

Just as she's leaving she finds a set of three huge black-and-white photographs, close-ups of flowers, grainy and gorgeous. The three would be perfect hung together, on the library wall.

On to HomeGoods for more lamps—she's always felt that pools of warm light do more than anything else to cozy up a space—a large sisal rug for the living room, and a gray-and-white geometric one for the library.

She picks up porcelain Buddhas and turquoise shagreen boxes. At West Elm, she buys both wooden and lacquered trays and chocolate-brown geometric poufs. At Pottery Barn, she finds more pillows, and throws, silver-rimmed candle holders, with huge three-wicked barrel candles to sit inside.

Her car is filled. She phones Lisa on the way home and asks if she can drop things off in her garage as she has no room in her house at the moment to store anything. She makes Lisa promise not to look at anything she has bought. Not yet.

But Lisa greets her as she pulls up, can't resist sneaking a peek
into the bags as she helps Emma carry them inside. “Buddhas!” she says in delight. “I love the Buddhas. Oh, and look at those pillows! They're gorgeous.”

“I'm on the right track, then?”

“Oh please, please, can we set some of it up now? I'll help. Please?”

Emma can't say no. She's dying to see it herself. But once Lisa has helped move the furniture to put the rug down, she banishes her upstairs, making her promise not to come down until it's all done.

She works quickly. The bags are put in the hallway as she drapes the throws over the back of the sofa, and piles the pillows on top. The trays are placed on the coffee table with the shagreen boxes. She needs a few stools, she thinks to herself. Maybe in porcelain. She can order them online tomorrow.

The tables look great, and the midcentury chairs, too. They could be re-covered, Emma thinks, in a thick linen, but for now, with pillows, they are fine. She switches on the lamps, takes some books that are already shelved and stacks them horizontally, looking at them with a discerning eye. She needs more, she realizes. So much more. Now she can see the gaps. Artwork for the wall. More objects. She can hang the artwork and the curtains on Thursday. Emma casts an expert eye around the room, making notes on a pad to remind her what else to buy. Lucite chairs for the office, she thinks, writing it down. An upholstered bench in front of the fire. Tables for either side of the fireplace. She'd seen two nice demilune tables at the consignment store but hadn't thought she had a place for them. Now she realizes she does.

“I can't wait any longer.” Lisa has crept back into the room “Emma!” she cries delightedly. “It's
beautiful
. It looks like something out of a magazine!” She can't seem to wipe the smile off her face as she tiptoes around her own house, running her fingers along the sides
of the trays, picking up the little sculptures on the bookshelves, admiring the vases. “I can't believe how different you've made it look!”

“Just you wait,” says Emma. “I have more plans for these rooms.”

“What do you think about more bookshelves?” Lisa pauses. “Not just for books, but I was thinking about maybe building some shelves in this corner to display stuff. Like one of the pictures in your file—do you remember? They were dark gray and glossy and absolutely beautiful. Do you think that would work?”

Lisa is talking about the bookshelves in her own house. “That would be stunning,” Emma says. “I could draw something up for you to give to your carpenter.”

Lisa's face falls. “I don't have a carpenter. Do you know anyone?”

Emma pauses. The bookshelves in her own house look beautiful, but only if you don't look too closely. Pull off her carefully nailed-on molding and everything slants to the right. Could Dominic do a better job if she helped him? Would he do a better job with a spirit level and an assistant? She could be there to catch the mistakes. Surely this would be good for him, a job doing what he really loves to do.

“I do, actually,” says Emma. “I can see if he's free right now to come and take a look.”

“That would be fantastic,” says Lisa. “I am so glad I found you, Emma. This is going to be great!”

•   •   •

Emma stands back as Dominic measures the wall, asking Lisa a series of very professional questions. Emma is quiet. It's probably not a great idea for Lisa to know she and Dominic have anything other than a professional relationship.

“Emma? Can you just show Dominic the picture in your file? I want shelves just like that.”

“Absolutely.” She turns to Dominic. “I can get those to you as soon as I get home,” she says, and the twinkle in his eye brings a flashback of him moving inside her, smiling down at her, and for a second she loses her words. When she shakes her head to dislodge the thought, he is hiding a grin.

“Are you okay?” he says.

“I'm so sorry. I just got lost in thought for a second.”

“Creative types!” laughs Lisa, seemingly oblivious to the sexual energy raging between them. “If Emma gets you the picture today, do you think you could start immediately? How long would it take?”

“I could get you something by next Friday.”

“Can you make it next Thursday?”

“That's tight. I don't know.”

Lisa lowers her eyes, looks up at him through her eyelashes. “Pretty please?” she asks in a little-girl voice, and Emma suppresses a laugh.

Dominic sighs. “Seeing as you asked so nicely. Let me give you a price when I get home and figure out the cost of the materials and labor, and if it's good with you, I'll get going immediately. I should be able to have the shelves done in time. Like I said, it's tight, but I think I can do it.”

“Thank you so much.” Lisa's voice is almost back to normal. “Let me show you out.”

As soon as the door closes behind Dominic, Lisa whirls back into the room with her hand on her heart. “Oh my God!” Lisa exclaims. “He's completely gorgeous. You didn't tell me your carpenter was so hot. He was so handsome I could hardly look at him.”

“Really?” Emma wrinkles her nose. “I guess I don't really see it. You think he's handsome?”

“And tall. And sweet.
God!
It's a good thing I'm happily married
or I'd be extremely tempted right about now.” She peers at Emma. “Do you really not think he's
adorable
?”

Emma sighs. “Okay. Yes. I do think he's very handsome. But I can't let that get in the way of us working together.”

“How do you know him?”

Emma thinks for a second, her mind trying to come up with a plausible explanation, but it doesn't feel right to lie to a client. She can tell the truth, just not, perhaps, the whole truth.

“I rent one of his cottages,” she says. “He actually built those shelves in the picture you're talking about.”

“Why didn't you say anything?”

“I didn't want you to think I was recommending a friend. If you want him to build them, I'm sure he has the time, and I can oversee them to make sure they're perfect.”

“I'll oversee him anytime you want,” says Lisa, and they both laugh. “Are you married?” she then asks, out of the blue. Emma blushes and shakes her head.

“Is he?”

“I know where you're going with this,” warns Emma with a laugh.

“Seriously? Why not! If I were single and he was my landlord he could
fix my shelves
anytime he wanted.”

“I don't know that we're terribly well matched,” says Emma, aware suddenly of her well-spoken British accent. “And I'm not looking for anything at the moment.” Which had been true, up until the moment Dominic kissed her. But certainly her first client isn't the person she should be making any confessions to.

“The best things in life always find us when we're not looking for them,” says Lisa, now serious. “Okay, I'll stop. But the two of you look good together. I could see it. And
I
would.” She smiles. “If I were you.”

B
y late that afternoon, she's back home. Everything she needs is at her fingertips. Emma sits behind the computer, Hobbes on her lap, losing herself completely as she trawls websites, changes search terms, and zeroes in on all the accessories she needs to complete Lisa's house.

Just past six she hears the cat flap open, and seconds later Jesse is in her doorway. By the smile on his face, it looks as if he has gotten over this morning's tantrum.

“Hey, Jesse.” She pretends the last thing she heard him say about her was not that he wanted nothing to do with her.

“Hi,” he says. “Have you seen Hobbes?”

“She's right here.” Emma slides her chair back, gesturing to her lap. Jesse comes over and pets the cat. “Want to take her? Maybe the two of you can cuddle up on the sofa. I can put a movie on if you like.”

“Sure,” Jesse says. She notices now that he's carefully keeping his gaze on the kitten, and doing his best not to look at her at all.

She hands him Hobbes, gets up, and puts a movie on, grabbing a packet of M&Ms from the kitchen and pouring them into a bowl.

“Ssssh,” she says, putting the bowl on the table in front of the sofa. “Don't tell your dad.” She turns to go back into her office when Jesse speaks.

“I'm really sorry, Emma,” he says. “For what I said. I didn't mean it.”

Relieved, and moved, she turns carefully and sits next to him on the sofa. “That's okay, sweetie. I'm sorry I upset you.”

They look at each other and Jesse nods, then giggles as Hobbes inches her way up his chest and starts to suck on his earlobe. Emma stands up, makes her way into the bathroom to wipe away her tears. It seems like everything is going to be all right.

A knock on her door brings her out of the bathroom, and she opens it, unsurprised to see Dominic standing on the doorstep.

“Hi, you.” He leans forward to kiss her, but Emma turns it into a quick peck, whispering that Jesse is there. She doesn't want to upset the applecart again.

“I wondered where he'd gotten to,” says Dominic. “He can't see us. Give me a proper kiss. I deserve one after you were all weird with me this afternoon.”

“I wasn't weird. I was being professional. I didn't want Lisa to suspect my reasons for recommending you.” Dominic pulls her close as she loops her arms around his neck. “She thinks we look good together,” says Emma when she pulls away.

“I knew I liked her.” He lets her go and walks across the threshold, entering the cottage and heading over to where Jesse is lying on the sofa.

“Hey, buddy. I'm going to run out and get burgers and corn for
dinner.” He turns to Emma. “Want to join us? I'm just throwing stuff on the grill.”

“Really?” says Emma, who hadn't much thought about dinner. She wasn't terribly hungry but presumed she would do what she had been doing almost every night and just throw together a salad from whatever she has in her fridge.

“Sure. If I buy salad stuff can you make it? Is it okay if I leave Jesse with you while I run up to the grocery store?”

“Salad stuff I have. And yes, of course Jesse is fine to stay here.”

Dominic drops his voice. “Is he, though?”

“After this morning?” She drops her voice, checking that Jesse is glued to the TV. “He apologized.”

“Good.” He rolls his eyes. “Children.” And off he goes.

When he gets back, they all gather at Dominic's house. Emma is careful not to touch Dominic all evening in front of Jesse. Every now and then Dominic will take her hand, or reach over for a kiss, but she doesn't want to upset Jesse, doesn't want to do anything that might disturb the détente they seem to have reached. She's still not sure she understands it, neither why Jesse got quite so upset nor why Dominic seems completely unaware that this might be an issue.

Dominic grills outside while Emma shucks the corn and gets a big pot of water to boil. She sets the table, getting a reluctant Jesse to help, while Dominic brings in a platter of food.

They crack open beers, even though Emma would normally drink wine. This year, in this house, in this town, with this man, an ice-cold bottle of beer has become summer personified. Everything about the evening is perfect.

Jesse is quiet but sweet. Toward the end of the evening, fireflies glimmer on and off in the darkening yard. When Jesse starts yawning, Dominic says it's time for bed.

Jesse starts whining that he wants to stay up, that he never goes to bed this early.

“You know what?” Emma says, when twenty minutes have passed and Dominic has clearly forgotten that he was supposed to be sending Jesse to bed, even though Jesse can barely keep his eyes open. “How about Hobbes has a sleepover with you tonight?”

Jesse's face lights up. “In my room?”

“Sure. If your dad says yes.” She looks at Dominic, who laughs, raising his hands, knowing he now doesn't have a hope in hell of saying anything
other
than yes.

“Why doesn't your dad take you up to bed while I go and get Hobbes. I can bring him in as soon as you've brushed your teeth.”

“Do I have to brush my teeth?” Jesse says—but not to his dad, to Emma.

“Absolutely you do. Unless you want them all to fall out. Go on, go up now, and by the time you're done, Hobbes will be curled up on your pillow.”

Dominic shoots her a grateful smile as he heads upstairs with his son. Emma watches them before heading next door to get Hobbes.
They need a woman,
she thinks.
The pair of them need someone like me.

When Dominic comes back downstairs, he stands behind Emma at the sink and slips his arms around her waist. It is weird, she realizes, that it is
not
weird. There is no dancing around each other, trying to figure out what the other is thinking or feeling; there is no awkwardness, no trying to take it slow, no slight discomfort that exists at the beginning of a new relationship. How weird it is that they moved past that so quickly and completely.

Dominic seems quite unlike any man she has ever met, perhaps because he is not playing games. He seems completely open about how he feels about Emma, and doesn't particularly want to hide it
from anyone. Even his own son. Emma has spent a large part of the evening attempting to fob off his amorous advances—because of Jesse, not because she wasn't ready and willing to receive them.

“Poor little guy,” Dominic says as he nuzzles into her neck. “He's exhausted. No idea why. All that running around at camp, probably. Thank you for bringing the kitten. I honestly don't know how I would have got him into bed otherwise.”

“It's a pleasure.”

“You even got him to brush his teeth. I should be giving you a medal.”

“I'm just relieved he's feeling better. That whole tantrum earlier really upset me.”

“I know. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry we haven't had a chance to talk about it properly. If it makes you feel better, this time he's prepared.”

Emma frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I told him you might sleep over again, that adults are allowed to have sleepovers, too, and that you are a special friend. I told him I really like you, and I want him to really like you, too. I also said that he and I would always be a team, and that no one would ever get in the way of that.”

“And you think he's okay with that?” Emma can't wipe the smile off her face. He wants her to sleep over again! All of it said so easily, so simply. She doesn't know what to do with the feeling that gives her.

Other than enjoy it.

“I don't ever want you to think this relationship is only about sex,” says Dominic, sliding his hands around to cup her breasts. “But the sex was so damn good last night, do you think it would be terrible if I picked you up and carried you upstairs to bed so we could do it again?”

“Yes!” Emma is horrified. “You can't pick me up! I'm way heavier
than you thi—” She can't get any more out before Dominic has swept her up, not in a romance-novel kind of way, but hoisted over his shoulder. She yelps with laughter before remembering that they are both trying to get Jesse to fall asleep, so instead she thumps his back all the way up the stairs.

•   •   •

Is it possible
, she thinks, lying in the dark, just able to see the outline of Dominic's body as he gently snores,
is it possible for something to get so very much better in twenty-four hours?

And is it possible,
she thinks, reaching out and stroking his arm over the sheet, feeling its contours,
to feel so strongly about someone I barely know? Someone I would never choose for myself? Someone I never would have thought would fit into my life or my world, at least not the life that's always been expected of me.

There is something about Dominic. About all of this, that feels . . . right. From the moment he first put his hand on the small of her back, entirely innocently, a gentlemanly gesture to guide her through the garden gate, she felt she had come home.

What was it Lisa had said earlier today? That the best things in life always find us when we're not looking for them?

Now, more than ever, she knows that to be true. She barely even knows Dominic, but feels, for the first time, that she has found everything she has been looking for; this is where she fits in; this is where she belongs.