Blueprints: A Novel (33 page)

“I’ve thought this through,” he said, intimate and low. “I want to hold off on making a formal announcement. Have you told anyone?”

Not regret, then. Just stark, cold practicality.

It was for the best, Jamie knew. Still, she was stung by how wrong she had been about Brad. “Only my mother.”

“I doubt she was upset. Did you tell Theo?”

“Not yet. What do you mean, ‘I doubt she was upset’?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s over. But please don’t tell anyone else. There’s no need yet.”

Jamie certainly hadn’t planned on sending an e-announcement. Still, when they had first become engaged, word had spread on its own. “I’m not wearing my ring,” she murmured. “People will notice.”

“You can say you forgot to put it on.”

“What about tomorrow? Or next week?”

“By then, I’ll know what I’m doing.”

That gave her pause. “What do you mean?”

Behind his glasses, his eyes were unblinking. “I’ve always had offers from other companies.”

She was startled, then annoyed. “You never told me,” she had to say, because he had made such a big deal the night before about her not telling him about Tad.

“I didn’t tell you,” he said, “because they were irrelevant at the time, but they aren’t anymore. One’s with a firm in Minnesota. I like the partners.”

“You were entertaining job offers from out of state?” She could understand that he would be recruited by local companies he met through MacAfee Homes, but something out of state would suggest he had been actively soliciting jobs.

He didn’t deny it. “I’ve often thought I’d like to go home.”

“You never told me that.” She had broken up with Brad as soon as she recognized her feelings for Chip. To learn that he had been looking elsewhere while they were engaged, knowing she was tied to MacAfee Homes, knowing that her work, family, and hometown were here, knowing that Theo and Roy were counting on his taking over one day—she was
stunned.
“You said you didn’t want to be in the same city as your parents. You said you didn’t
like
Minneapolis.”

“And I believed it, but when I thought about it last night, I realized I had to make myself dislike Minneapolis so I could like Boston. The truth is, I’m a midwesterner. Minneapolis looks pretty good to me right now.”

He was wounded and lashing out. That was the only explanation Jamie could find. She had been engaged to marry the man. She had always thought him down to earth and totally transparent.

Only it sounded like he’d had this at the back of his mind for a while, like Plan B had been there all along on the chance that Plan A was nixed.

For a split second, she was hurt. In that second, she felt a whole new swell of anger, betrayal, dismay, not the least of it being how easily he had moved on.

But the second passed, and reality returned. She had moved on, too. Her heart wasn’t here. And as she studied this detached Brad—she actually moved her desk chair farther from him—she felt better and better. She had believed him vulnerable for so long that the idea of his being strong and filled with purpose was a huge relief.

“Oh. Okay. I’m glad,” she said and meant it. She had loved him, perhaps not the right way for marriage, but feelings didn’t just vanish.

“So you won’t tell anyone yet?”

There she balked. Feelings were one thing, principle something else. Brad might be moving on from MacAfee Homes, but she wasn’t. She had her own credibility to protect. “I can’t promise it. The best I can do, if someone asks, is to say we’re on hold until things sort themselves out from Roy’s death.”

He studied her with what might have been pique before producing a sad smile. “You’re tough.”

“Apparently,” she replied, sad as well, “so are you.”

She should have known it, of course—should have known that there was a fine line between even-tempered and cool. What kind of man professed to want a family but couldn’t open his heart to a two-year-old orphan who was his future wife’s half brother and, PS, the son of a man who had given him so much and was now dead?

She should have known that a relationship so slow to develop might, in fact, be more convenient than heartfelt. And that two people coming from such different places might just be
too
different.

Whatever, he seemed so comfortable now with his independence that she stopped worrying about him, especially when greater worries came a short time later in a phone call from Claire. “Does the name Barth ring a bell?… What do you know about the company?… Do you personally know anyone there?” Apparently, one of the Barths had contacted her about doing a season of
Gut It!

Jamie was horrified. “A
season
?”

“Not this fall or spring, but maybe in a year. I checked them out. They’re well regarded.”

“But
Gut It!
has always been a MacAfee show. Are you thinking of switching to an entirely new cast? Because of the
hosting
issue?” She found it unthinkable, both change and cause.

“No. This goes beyond that. Alternating crews may be another way of keeping things fresh. There would be continuity, since the Barths are in Williston, too.”

“They’re not here. Not like we are. Besides, part of the appeal of
Gut It!
is that we’re women. They aren’t.”

“Well, that’s a hook that could work to our benefit. It could be a competition between the sexes. Viewers could even vote on their favorite crews. What do you think?”

“I think it’s
awful,
” Jamie cried, but Claire was unruffled.

“It’s certainly something to consider if you don’t want to host. Okay. I just wanted to mention it. Call me when you’re up to it, so that we can lock things in.”

Moments after ending the call, Jamie was on the phone with Caroline. “It’s a threat, baby,” she soothed, sounding sensible and calm. “She’s trying to intimidate us.”

“With Dad not two weeks dead?”

“Claire wants what she wants when she wants it. That’s part of what makes her good on the set.”

“Well, I’m not hosting. Period.”

“You’d be a good host.”

“Not now.”

“What if the choice is between your hosting or our losing the show?”

“Hosting is
your
job.”

“Yes,” Caroline said firmly, “and I do not like someone saying I’m too old to do it. But we’re not the bank, and if the bank is calling the shots, we may be stuck.”

The bank? Jamie kept coming back to a single person. “It’s about power for Claire.”

“Maybe,” Caroline agreed. “Maybe she’s getting pressure from someone above. It could be political, like she botched some other project and fears for her job if she can’t swing this change.”

Jamie was amazed that her mother could be so casual, given how she had been screwed. “But aren’t you
angry
?”

“Only when I let myself really think about why I’m losing something I love. I’m trying not to do that, Jamie. I’m trying to focus on other things I love, one of which is spending time with my daughter. And with her little boy.
And
in Toys “R” Us just now.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did. Dean and I were doing research in Warrenville.” That was the site of the fall show. “Claire would die if she knew, but whichever one of us hosts will need to know more about the town. Remember how tough it was the first few seasons when people had no clue what we were? Now they fall over themselves wanting to help, even with Dean looking slightly disreputable.”

Hearing an odd fondness, Jamie said, “You used to hate that.”

There was a pause, then an indulgent sigh. “So I did. But that look can be a turn-on. People who watch
Gut It!
know Dean and love him, but trust me, baby, they wouldn’t open their hearts to any of the Barths that way. Claire’s done us a favor by tipping us off about them. I’ll let Linda know. She’s connected. She’ll do her best to shut them out.” The more Jamie listened, the more she relaxed. “So, anyway, when we passed Toys “R” Us on the way home, I made Dean stop.”

Jamie tried to picture it, but the truth was, she hadn’t dreamed this far. Having Caroline buy toys for her child was as new a concept as Jamie’s having a child at all. “Were you bad?”

“Awful. Dean was worse. I was picking up practical things, like sippy cups and toddler utensils and crayons and a plastic pool. He got toys. He said he knows little boys better than me. He’s probably right.” She paused. “Have you seen Brad?”

Warmed that Caroline was so accepting of Tad, Jamie was light-hearted. “Yes. No problem there. He’s moved on.”

“That easily?”

“I know. Seriously scary.”

“Seriously upsetting.”

“No. I’m relieved.”

“Because of Chip?”

“Because the relationship was wrong. The scary part is my not seeing that. Brad doesn’t want me telling anyone yet, not even Theo, but he’ll be leaving the company. Will that be a problem?” Caroline did seem to be the one to ask, the one in the know, the one closest to Theo.

“
Definitely
leaving?”

“Oh yeah. Amazing, isn’t it? He says he wants to go back to Minneapolis, which is the last thing I would’ve thought, which goes to show how much I did not know this guy. Theo won’t be happy with me.”

“I can handle Theo,” Caroline assured her. “That’s one advantage of being bumped up into the C-suite.” She paused before asking in a gentler voice, “Does Chip know your engagement’s off?”

“Not yet. He’s at school till three.”

“Jamie…” A warning.

“Caution. I know.”

*   *   *

Caution haunted Jamie as the afternoon passed. Between meeting on-site with one homeowner and talking on the phone with two others, it occurred to her that she might have misread things and imagined something more than momentary lust on Chip’s part. When that discouraged her, she pulled up her dream file, which contained whimsical plans for the Weymouth property. She added an arbor to the community amenities, had the computer insert wisteria, a few grapes, even a wedding reception. The last was telling. She hadn’t been able to plan her own wedding. Caroline was right. Subconscious reasoning must have been at work.

And now? Caution meant leaving nothing to the subconscious, which meant understanding that Chip might have decided she wasn’t his type at all, and that other than meeting at the playground, he didn’t want to be involved with a single mom, which was likely the responsible thing, the
grown-up
thing.

Still, her excitement grew as the afternoon passed. It helped that Tad’s day had been better—no crying jags and a nice long nap, his teacher reported. He had finger-painted Jamie a beautiful piece of art and chattered about it during the drive home. The chattering actually surprised her. Two days in daycare seemed to have jump-started his speech. Much of what he said was unintelligible, but his enthusiasm was catching. In that spirit, Jamie could always give an excited
Really?
or
That’s so good, Taddy,
or
I love it!
And she chattered right back at him—she’d read a study during lunch about how toddlers benefited from hearing complete sentences with good grammar.

Of course, her own talking might have been from nerves.

Was
from nerves.

Back at the condo, she changed from skirt, blouse, and heels to T-shirt, shorts and flip-flops. Once Tad had snacked and pooped, and the clock reached five, she packed him back in the car and drove to the playground.

They were there. At the swings, Chip pushing Buddy at the same time that he coached, “Pump! That’s it, Bud, use the legs.” Tad ran toward them as if he knew the drill, his head down, arms and legs going for speed. Jamie followed more sedately, reliving every fear that what she had assumed to be mutual was not.

One look at the vivid blue eyes that watched her approach, though, and she knew she hadn’t been wrong. Suddenly shy, she simply smiled and said, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said with an answering smile. He gave his son a push, then caught up Tad, lowered him into the bucket, and got him swinging. He easily handled both buckets, with his wide arm span. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“It’s hell hour.” The term held new meaning now; the temptation to be with Chip was greater than ever.
Caution,
she reminded herself and swallowed. “How was your day?”

“Challenging.” He gave another two pushes, darting looks at her between. “Less than a week until summer break, and the kids are ready. They were antsy as hell.” He looked her over. “I wasn’t much better than they were today. Kept thinking about you.” His gaze stuck on her hand. “Where’s your ring?”

No one at work had asked that. Not one single person. They simply assumed she was with Brad, ring or no.

“Gone.” He looked at her quizzically. “I broke my engagement.”

“For me?” he asked with endearing excitement.

“For me. He and I had other issues, but once I realized I was drawn to you, I couldn’t let it go on.”

He smirked. “‘Drawn’ to is putting it mildly. At least on my side.” He kept double-handing the swings.

“Mine, too.”

He shot her a wary look. “I may be a lousy bet.”

“And I’m not? I haven’t ever done anything remotely like this.”

“You’re a MacAfee, I’m a Kobik. You’re Phi Beta Kappa, I’m a party animal—”

“Am?”

“Was, but still, you’re a TV star, I’m a gym teacher. You can do better than me.”

“How do
you
know?” she asked with enough indignation to shut him up.

She stood close beside him, acutely aware of his long body flexing and reflexing as he pushed, and for several minutes, there was only the
whoosh
of the swings, the laughter of two little girls playing princess on the adjacent jungle gym, and the occasional “
Higher!
” from Buddy. When the latter became demands for the sandbox, they made the switch.

Then they sat side by side on a nearby bench, leaning forward, each with elbows on knees and fingers laced. Their thighs—his muscled and hair-spattered, hers lean and clear—were inches apart, yet the heat was enough to make her tremble.