Granddad's House (On Geneva Shores) (6 page)

She frowned, remembering how their last dinner had ended, and slid her feet into her shoes.
What else do you want, Ned?
As if she couldn’t guess.

She was beginning to think that what she had hoped might be a long-term romantic relationship based on friendship was fast degenerating into an occasional dinner and wrestling match post-feast, when Ned bothered to see her at all.

She pulled the door shut, checked it twice to make sure it was locked, and then went to her car. She would call him later. What she needed most was some hot tea. She pulled away from the curb. Then she remembered and her heart clutched. Granddad—and his meeting with Mr. James. She would call him from home.

But when she reached her grandfather, he was in the middle of watching
Questions and Answers.
“Call me when it’s over, Livvy.”

She sighed. Granddad was so different from her father, who had been thrilled when she joined the company the day after she graduated from college. He admitted to her afterward that he’d been hoping she would, but hadn’t wanted to influence her, not when she was going to school and hadn’t said where she wanted to work or what she wanted to do with her life.

Dad often reminded her how much she looked like her grandmother—the same curly auburn hair, the same deep blue eyes, the same slim build that he said made him squirm when he saw men eye her, the same slightly-turned up nose, and freckles that in summer were sprinkled across her cheeks, “like stardust from the angels while you slept,” he told her when, at age twelve, she’d complained about them. She remembered his surprise when she told him she wanted to concentrate on the business rather than going out on dates every weekend, like so many of her friends.

“I’ve got plenty of time for romance, Dad. Right now, it’s my career I want to focus on.” So unlike her mother, who’d left them because Olivia’s father was too focused on
business.

In her second year with the firm, Olivia endured the wrath of a frustrated seller, someone who reminded her of today’s episode with Dave and Helen. For the third time that month, she had returned to the office in tears.

“I just can’t do this anymore, Dad. I don’t know how you do it.  She was so—so nasty—they both were, and it wasn’t my fault the buyer backed out. The other agent—he wasn’t very—very—very nice, either,” she’d stuttered.

“Now,
sweetpea, these things happen,” he soothed her as he patted her back. “You just have to pretend you’re a turtle—”

“I know—a shell to protect my heart and my feelings.” She mopped her eyes and sniffed. “But I don’t want to be a turtle. I just wanted to help them sell their house—and she was so—so—
so—”

“I know, she was nasty. Go wash your face, it’s getting all blotchy. Then we’ll talk about what we can do to make things better.”

The insistent ringing of the phone had interrupted him. “Brown Family Realty,” he’d announced, seeming to emphasize ‘family’ for Olivia’s sake as she stood nearby. “Oh, hi, Oren. Yes, Livvy was just telling me your buyer walked.” He had pointed her toward the kitchen sink near the back of the office. “She’s getting some papers from the other room. Go ahead. Tell me what’s on your mind. I’ll have her call you back.” He’d paced between the large window overlooking the street and the smaller one through which he could count the cars in their parking lot behind the building. “Livvy tells me you were crowing about how much they liked the place, better than anything else they had seen.”

He had waved encouragingly at her, pointing to a chair.  “Hmm. Uh-huh. Well, why don’t you see what you can do? Olivia is dying to talk some sense into the sellers. Yes, they really do have to move—job transfer and all. You do that, Oren. Thanks. I know you will. I’ll tell her.” He’d put his arm around Olivia and given her a squeeze while she patted her eyes with a wet compress. “Oren says the buyers still want the house. They were just a little put out by the seller’s reaction to their inspection report.”

She’d sniffed again. “You’re not going to make me go back there, are you, Dad? I just can’t face them again. They were—”

“I know—nasty.  So you said. And, yes, you will go back there. Oren’s faxing over a counteroffer in the next few minutes.”

She shook her head, her curls brushing against her father’s cheek as he hugged her. “I just don’t know if I can talk to them again.”

“You’re like I was at the beginning—before I grew my turtle shell.” With both hands on her shoulders, he had turned her around to face the fax machine. “I know you can do this. Take a minute to look over the counteroffer. Then call the
Lombardis. Forget they were nasty. They were just being emotional—you know what your grandmamma used to say—sellers have to let go, they have to divorce themselves from the house in order to sell it and that’s painful.  If they want to vent, let them. Just listen, and when they stop yelling, talk to them. Pretend they’re sitting around in their under drawers—”

“Oh, Dad.” She started to chuckle. “Mrs. Lombardi—Gayle—would never—”

He smiled at her. “Ah, but just think what she would look like in them—her big ol’ panties sliding off her skinny hips and falling down to her knees. Think of that and you’ll relax. Besides, I’ll bet Al wears boxers with red valentines or little antique cars all over his ass,” he added with a snort, and then a full-throated chuckle. “Now you’ve got me laughing.”

Before the fax machine had finished spitting out the paperwork, they had enjoyed another laugh as they hugged each other.

When the door chime announced someone entering the front office, Johnson Brown, whom everyone called Jack, had welcomed the couple while Olivia retrieved the paper from the fax machine.

“Come right on in, folks. Now, how can I help you?” After several minutes, he had returned to stand next to her, absentmindedly rubbing her shoulders as she read over the fax. She looked at the photo of her father that graced her desk.

“You can do it, hon,” he’d said.

She had smiled up at him, taken two deep breaths, and dialed the
Lombardis’ number.

“Gayle? Yes, it’s Olivia. I have wonderful news. May I come over and share it with you?”

Minutes later, Olivia had waved at her father as she exited the building on the way to the Lombardis’ house.

“Go get ’
em, girl,” he’d called to her from the window.  “And when you’re done, why don’t you take the rest of the day off? You’ll feel better after you sit in the garden and smell your grandfather’s roses.”

Would that it was that easy now. What was Granddad going to tell her when she went over to see him? She looked at the clock.
Questions and Answers
was almost over. She went into her bedroom, and changed out of her work clothes and into a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved cotton top.

That evening, Olivia entered the small den where her grandfather watched television. She perched on the loveseat in the bay window overlooking the back garden.

“Granddad, did you talk to Mr. James? You didn’t like him, did you?”
Maybe you even hate him.
I can only hope
. But something told her that wouldn’t be his response to the smooth-talking Beauregard James with the sexy Southern accent.

He nodded. “I did. Evolution,” he said. “That was the winning word and I figured it out before the contestant did.”

“Good for you. What did he say? Mr. James.”

“
Livvy. That man is …” He peered at her and gave her a slow smile. “He’s a real man, totally professional. Smart, too. Did you know he’s an architect? He showed me plans for this place. Nice plans. He doesn’t want to tear the house down. He wants to make it better.”

Her heart started a slow roll as it edged down past her stomach. “What did he say about the garage, the carriage house?”

“He had two plans with him. One for a triplex, two apartments on the top, with a larger full-size home downstairs. He even figured out how to keep garage space, one car for each, with a little extension over the RV space on the side.  The other plan was similar to what you and I talked about a long time ago—turning the upstairs into a full-fledged house. You know, expanding the apartment in the entire upstairs.” He smiled at her. “That plan was just a sketch. I think he did it right before he came over here, but it was nice, too.”

“And the garden building?”

“A cute little duplex, one unit down, the other up.”

“Hmm.” She bit her lip. The two men seemed to have bonded, an outcome far worse than she’d hoped.

The old man looked at her. “Come over here and give me a hug.”

She did so, afraid she was going to burst into tears.

As if he sensed her mood, he rubbed her back. “I don’t want you to worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’ll find another place to live. Maybe I’ll even move into one of the units in the back, the duplex without any stairs.”

“But, Granddad, you wanted a family to live in your house. What did he say about that?”

“Oh. Well, we talked about it. He said the people wanting to run it as a B&B will live in it, or maybe one of the places out back, and they’ll run it as if it was a special house, just not to the same people all the time. But he needs to make some changes first—which is why his company is buying it.” He patted the seat next to him on the couch. “I still would prefer a family, but we haven’t had any offers from a family. Maybe the property’s too big for a family, or too expensive.”

“But it’s barely been two weeks, and you
know
our market’s slow right now. It usually takes longer with higher priced properties.”
Maybe he doesn’t think I’m doing my job.

“I know, honey, I know.  So I’m thinking I might just follow up one other suggestion he had.”

Almost afraid to ask, she hesitated then blurted, “What’s that?” She squinted at him through her tears.

“Mr. James seems to think a rezone will be necessary, splitting off the back buildings, and keeping the house on the front part of the lot. That might slow things down a bit. What do you think?”

She didn’t know what to say. Instead she wiped her eyes and blew her nose and went into the kitchen for a cup of tea. “Want some, Granddad?”

He shook his head. “Opportunity knocks—that was one of the other answers I knew before the other people, the ones on
the
Questions.

“Good for you.” She stirred her tea. “Do you trust him?”
Please say no.

“Nothing not to trust. He gave me his business card, invited me to stop in any time. He’s a nice man,
Livvy. Lots of enthusiasm for what he does. And he’s got moxie. I like that. The kind of man you would be happy with, I think—”

She gasped, her stomach doing back-flips when he said that. “No! Never! He’s
so
not my type,” she exclaimed. “How could you possibly—”

“Well, he’s got a lot more on the ball than that Ted, or Fred, or Jed, fellow you brought around a few months back.”

“His name is Ned. Ned is stable and quiet and nice. How can you possibly compare him to Ned?”
Except, come to think of it, Ned is boring, and all he ever wants to do is have dinner and try to get me into bed. And his job, the one he doesn’t have, which he should have found months ago. He must still be living off the money his mother gave him. Even his car is boring. Why did I ever agree to go out with him? Not like Beau James—but what am I thinking? That
he’s
exciting? No. He’s offensive! And officious. Too handsome for words, but he’s so confident, actually insolent, the way he walked into my office and all around Granddad’s house, as if he already owned the place, and …

“Ned is a dunce,” her grandfather interrupted her wandering thoughts.  “How much do you want to bet he hasn’t had an original thought in his head since he got out of grade school? I’ll bet he never does anything when you’re with him except take you to dinner and—”

“And what?” She dared him to say what she’d been thinking. Maybe Granddad was thinking it, too.

He squinted at her for a moment before continuing. “I’ve watched the way he looks at you,
Livvy, when he thinks I’m asleep in my chair. He never once has guessed right when he’s been here and
Questions
was on. That tells me he hardly has three brain cells to rub together.” He paused, and one jaw muscle flexed. “He—he—well, he probably just wants to have his way with you,” he sputtered.

When she hooted, he looked embarrassed. “You know what I mean,
Livvy. Don’t make me say it. I don’t even want to think it.”

She stopped grinning. “Forget about Ned. There is no way I can see how you, how you … Granddad, whatever in the world makes you think Mr. Beau James is someone I could ever like?” She knew it was a mistake asking him the minute the words left her mouth.

“He has you tied in knots already and you barely know him. That’s why I think it. You are just like your grandmamma. She was the same way with me. Wouldn’t give me the time of day at first, and all because I challenged her to think past her nose. That’s what he did with you, too, didn’t he? Admit it. He’s a challenge you don’t want to come up against.” He grinned at her, love in his eyes. “And he’s not so bad to look at, either, now is he?” he added. “Even I can see that. He is one handsome man.”