Right from the Start (7 page)

The woman only nodded, still managing her
reaction.

Kenzie stepped into the breach. “Generally
we’ll meet for up to two hours during that initial discussion then table
anything that doesn’t get worked out. We’ll keep meeting until we come up
with an equitable arrangement. In between these conferences, you’ll meet
with an attorney who practices collaborative family law to have your legal
questions answered. Positive Partings provides access to the family court
and divorcing parent classes and any other professionals who may be needed
along the way.”

“My son,” Mrs. Russell said with effort.
“He’s really the only thing I care about. A little boy needs his
mom.”

The sound of laughter dragged Kenzie back to this moment, and
with the memory of Mrs. Russell’s heartfelt admission still ringing in her ears,
Kenzie glanced instinctively toward the sound to find Will laughing as the ball
soared past his son.

To her surprise, Will was the one who went after it, running
past his son and heading straight toward her.

He caught the ball in an athletic lunge just as she extended
her legs to block it from rolling under the bench and toward the street.

“Sorry about that.” Laughter echoed in that deep, resonant
voice, but he didn’t immediately realize who she was. Likely because he was
looking at her legs. By the time his gaze made it to her face, recognition
sparked in his clear eyes. “Kenzie.”

“Good morning, Will.” So much for stalling until the last
possible second.

He glanced at his son, then he straightened with the ball
clasped in his hands, so she had to tip her head to meet his gaze.

Her heart started to race.

“An unexpected pleasure.” His charm was turned on full force in
one fast smile. “Hope I’ll be hearing some good news from you this morning.”

He didn’t put her on the spot exactly, only voiced his hopes in
a simple, forthright way in that full-bodied voice that struck her in such an
absurdly physical way.

But that observation came through the filter of Kenzie’s adult
mind. Her inner child felt as if he were extending his hand in welcome, slipping
those warm, strong fingers around hers and inviting her close.

Suddenly, three days of weighing pros and cons were forgotten.
Her intention had been to push the decision to the last possible second, but
when Kenzie opened her mouth, she said, “I believe you will.”

For one suspended moment, he stood motionless, so utterly still
as if comprehending her words took effort. Then he flashed that high-beam smile
again. “That is the best possible news. The absolute best. I’ll give you a call
later this morning, and we can set up a time to go through the paperwork. How
does that sound?”

She nodded mutely, afraid to open her mouth lest something else
unexpected pop out.

But her response seemed enough for him and everything about him
seemed so earnest when he said, “Thank you, Kenzie.”

Then he took off, leaving her staring after him as he returned
the ball to his son, and resumed his place, saying, “Five more times, Sam, then
we go to the truck.”

Sam only rolled the ball toward his dad again, who returned it,
holding up a hand with his fingers outstretched. He tucked his thumb until only
four fingers remained.

A rush of adrenaline propelled Kenzie off the bench, her nerves
suddenly wired and alive. She was aware of her every movement as if she could
feel Will’s gaze on her. The measured pace of her strides. The way her skirt
tangled with her legs. The way her hair brushed her shoulders with every
step.

The way her heart still pounded too hard.

What was it about this brutally handsome man that made her
aware of him on a cellular level?

Kenzie didn’t know, but she had a heads-up about his character
and after the renovations, he’d be gone, leaving her with a new location as
sparkly as his gray eyes and a chance to carry on Madame Estelle’s legacy by
reaching for the stars.

And a place to start practicing what she preached.

Kenzie was in control here, not her inner child. She knew the
difference between the
L
words and wouldn’t confuse
the two.

CHAPTER FOUR

W
HEN
W
ILL
HAD
watched Kenzie sign the
lease nearly three weeks ago, he could not have known that he’d only swapped one
problem for another. Angel House might get a shot at the Ramsey Foundation
grant—
if
Will lived long enough to get any work
done on that side of the building.

Little Ms. Demanding had spent the better part of three weeks
parading through her square footage, ordering him around in that soft-hush of a
voice, commands always phrased as questions.

Is it possible
...

Would you mind
...

Not that she’d been overseeing the work. Thank God. But she’d
shown up almost every night like clockwork to waltz through the rooms, checking
out the day’s progress. Always observant. Always complimentary.

Always with a written list of tasks for him that she added to
whenever something struck her fancy.

“Would it be much work to replace those
fluorescent fixtures for something more conducive to learning?”

“Could we possibly relocate these mirrors
to the ladies’ facilities? They’re out of place in the mediation rooms, but
I hate to leave them gathering dust in the attic.”

Her nostalgia might be the end of him.

Tonight was the perfect example. He watched her check out the
new drywall in what she’d already designated as her office. She complimented him
on the work, thanked him for the effort, although the effort hadn’t been his.
He’d been pulling crews from job sites wherever he could spare them. No one
minded. One job was as good as another provided it came attached to a paycheck.
Even better when it ran into overtime.

Suddenly she made a beeline straight across the room toward the
window, and he could tell, even before she opened her mouth, that whatever was
on her mind would mean more work for him. Or his crew, which was the same
thing.

“What are your plans for these windows?”

“Replace the sills and trim,” he said. “They’re beat, but the
windows themselves are solid. Looks like they were replaced not all that long
ago.” For a building that had been around as long as this one, a few decades
didn’t qualify as so long ago.

“Any chance of preserving them, Will?” Kenzie ran a hand along
the wooden grooves. “They’re lovely, and I don’t imagine you can replicate this
trim easily.”

He forced his gaze from the pouty mouth that had exhaled his
name to the polished pink fingertips on the windowsill in question, a sweep of
touch as light as her voice.

It took him a moment to comprehend the latest demand.

These windowsills were scored with dings and grooves and
scratches. They’d been painted and repainted through the years until the paint
was layered thick and uneven.

He could probably rip out all the wood on every one of Kenzie’s
windows and replace it in less time than it would take to strip and hand sand
the wood from a single one. But she was right about the replacements. He could
substitute the ornate woodwork with a modern manufactured equivalent, pre-cut
and plain. The craftsmanship of the original window trim—and the baseboards and
crown molding for that matter—didn’t exist anymore, not without a custom price
tag well beyond his budget.

“You’re talking about a lot of work.” An
insane
amount of work. “The wood has to be stripped and sanded—”

“You don’t think it’s practical?”

“Restoring those sills and that trim is the meticulous work
more suited to a retiree with nothing better to do all day than coax scrolled
woodwork back to life with a detail sander.”

Will was not retired. And his back was already against the wall
to meet the deadline, and he got further behind schedule with every second they
wasted considering window trim.

Kenzie only inclined her head, red-gold hair threading over her
shoulders with the motion. Her expression didn’t change, but somehow she seemed
to deflate.

Will wasn’t sure why he thought that. Her eyes, maybe? They
were all hazel with gold specks. But now her gaze looked as if someone had blown
out the spark.

Okay, now it was official—he was losing his mind from lack of
sleep.

“Is there any way I could help?” she offered. “I’d be happy to
do some of the work if you’ll show me what to do.”

Now he was deflating. Restoring all that scrolled trim meant
something to her. And if she coerced him into doing the window trim, she might
want to bring back the crown molding, too. And the baseboards. And the
quarter-rounds.

The thought made him twitch. He stared at her. The smattering
of freckles across her nose was more noticeable than usual in the
unsuited-to-teach fluorescent lighting.

It wasn’t enough that he needed to renovate this building on a
time limit, now she wanted him to train unskilled labor? Okay...time for plan B.
Given this woman’s career, she should appreciate the art of negotiation.

Because he couldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

“We can work something out as long as you’re flexible on the
time frame. There are a lot of windows around here, and I don’t want to hold you
up from moving in.” He needed to get moving on Angel House. “If you’re willing
to tackle the job one room at a time
after
I get
everything under control, I can show you what to do, provide tools. With both of
us on the job, we’ll bring all those windows back.” Before the turn of the next
millennia. He hoped. “Does that sound doable?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Do I need to put this agreement in writing?”

“I’ll take you at your word.” She glanced at the windowsill,
her expression glowing again. “I think they’ll be worth the wait.”

No surprises there. Kenzie had consistently favored the quality
of work over speedy resolutions. He’d been involved in residential construction
for a lot of years and recognized the symptoms. Will finally had to ask. “I get
the sense this building is more than your agency’s new address. Do you know
someone on the preservation commission or are old buildings a hobby of
yours?”

The question seemed to amuse her. A smile played around her
mouth, softened around the edges of her expression. “I was a student here. I
studied dance from the time I was six years old all the way through college.
Lots of memories.”

“Of course.” He didn’t have to look too closely to imagine her
as a dancer. She was slender and lean with long, long legs. She wore a fitted
skirt that showcased her shapely legs tonight—a similar outfit to the others
he’d seen her in.

Suddenly Will could imagine her wearing a skintight nothing
outfit and doing all sorts of dance-y moves in front of the mirrors in one of
the studios. Will knew nothing about dance, beyond the image of female bodies in
motion, stretching and swaying erotically around poles.

He had to shake his head to clear the image.

Kenzie’s connection to this building shouldn’t have been rocket
science. Not when he knew she was Hendersonville born and bred, and even looked
the part with her graceful form. But former student hadn’t once occurred to him.
He needed sleep.

Still, he had trouble reconciling this gentle and proper woman
with the building’s former business. Dance implied motion and abandon. Pole or
not, Will simply couldn’t see this prim woman spinning around in front of
mirrors with all that red hair whipping around her.

Time for this interview to be over. Kenzie had gotten all the
minutes he had to give. The night wasn’t even close to being over yet, and he
hadn’t seen Sam since dropping him off at Angel House this morning. “Let’s have
a look at that checklist of yours.”

“Oh, okay.” Surprise was all over her breathless words, and she
quickly handed him the list. Will kicked shut his toolbox and sat on it to take
advantage of the work lights.

Her list was as neat as he would have expected from a woman who
presented as properly as this one did. Items listed in her concise handwriting.
Items crossed out with even lines. Items added neatly in different colored ink.
From the order of the jobs, he knew she’d copied most from his proposal and
added her own, likely as they’d occurred to her.

“Building separated,” he said. “Check.”

That job had taken the better part of the first week to
complete. Will had run the electrical himself, staying every night until the wee
hours.

“Air handlers. Check.”

He’d spent the entire weekend here with Sam, installing those
new handlers on both sides of the building.

“Ductwork is this week’s project. If we don’t run into any
aggravation, we should be done by Thursday.”

So he could pull Roger from the subdivision going up on State
Road 27 to texture the ceilings around the new vents. He hoped there would be
something left of WLR General Contracting and Development by the time he’d
completed this project.

If
he ever completed this
project.

“Masonry repaired outside around the canopies. Not yet.” He
continued. “We’re waiting for shipment on the canopies. Don’t want to put in the
new frames until they arrive. Rebuild the attic stairs. Check. Replaced the door
header and support beams. Check.” That job had been a mess. Some old roof leak
had compromised the supports and had been repaired in the most half-assed job
he’d ever seen. Just good luck that the bathroom ceiling hadn’t caved in on a
bunch of ballerinas.

“New lighting fixtures. Not until after the ducts and vents are
in. Have you chosen the ones you want yet?” He glanced up and found her watching
him intently.

“I did. Let me grab the catalog, I flagged the page.” Spinning
lightly on her heels, she headed toward the doorway where she’d dropped her
gear.

Will didn’t wait, but kept on with the list. “Painting won’t
happen until after we get everything done with the ceilings. We’re not
refinishing the floors until after we get the painting done. We won’t replace
the baseboards until after we get the floors refinished.”

“That makes sense,” she said, returning with the catalog in
hand.

He was relieved she’d found something from this supplier
because he could get delivery within a day rather than wasting more time
waiting. He didn’t tell Kenzie that.

In fact, the only thing working in their favor right now
time-wise was the inspections. He’d muscled his way straight to the supervisor
and insisted on not being jerked around because this was a city project. All the
work he’d been doing on the council and his proximity to the mayor and city
manager had produced all sorts of reassurances. So far the inspectors had shown
up exactly when they said they would, which almost never happened. Will knew
that firsthand.

“All this other stuff, along with the windowsills and trim can
be done after you move in. I consider that fine-tuning, so just trust I’ll get
around to it. Neither of us can anticipate everything that needs to be done
until you’re in the building. More stuff will come up, so as it does, add it to
your list. I’ll work around you for all that stuff. Sound good?”

She nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Great. So is there anything else, Kenzie? What’s left to get
you moved in? I want to set a date.”

She appeared to consider that. “Okay. To work I need the
reception area with the phones, a mediation room, the large classroom and the
first floor public restrooms. My office would be nice, too. Or at least a place
to set up my computer equipment if my office isn’t ready yet. That should do
it.”

“Then let’s look at the calendar, so you can call the utility
companies and schedule service. That way they don’t hold you up.”

“That’s a really good idea.”

He was filled with them. The only problem was that he always
wound up executing every good idea he came up with. This building was a case in
point.

Pulling up the calendar on his smartphone, he held it up to
her. “I’ll have you ready by the weekend of the eleventh.”

“Really? That soon?”

“Really.”

“That’s Mother’s Day weekend.”

He shrugged. Maybe he’d luck out and Melinda would want to
spend some time with Sam.

“Okay,” she said, sounding like the idea was gaining steam.
“But the only time I can make the move is over the weekend when I don’t have
classes. Will that work for you or would you rather I wait for the following
weekend?”

No more waiting. “I’ll be done with what I have to do, and if
I’m not, I’ll stay out of your hair.”

Kenzie smiled. “Okay, then. The weekend of the eleventh it
is.”

Will forced a smile in return. One more problem solved. One
more piece in place. Provided he could actually get the work done by then, of
course.

* * *

K
ENZIE
INVITED
QUITE
a few of her nearest and dearest for moving day but
wasn’t sure who would turn up since her move competed with a family weekend. Her
own mother had joked about returning from Florida in time to work rather than
celebrate Mother’s Day.

But the promise of adequate compensation in the form of lunch
had produced results. A few generous cousins and many friends showed up, so
packing the rental truck had been a breeze. By the time Kenzie stood at her new
front door on South Main Street, she was surrounded by a small crowd to cheer
her on.

“I know this isn’t the first time you’ve hung your shingle,”
Geri said, pragmatic as always, “but I’d say quality beats quantity today,
wouldn’t you?”

Kenzie unfastened the key ring from the belt loop of her jeans,
where it hung from a carabiner so she wouldn’t misplace it during all the
activity of the move. “Absolutely. Have I thanked you for mentioning my agency
yet?”

Geri chuckled. “A number of times, in fact, and you are most
welcome. The situation sounded perfect. For you and Hendersonville. Glad
everything worked out.”