slipped into the garage. He might not have come up with the idea, but he was probably on the phone with Claire right now, grinning that cocky grin of his as he reveled in Caroline’s demotion.
Inhaling the familiar scent of sawdust, she ousted Roy from her mind. She didn’t want him here. This place was hers.
Up until five years before, she had lived in the house they shared while married, and though it was a dozen years before that when he moved out and signed over the deed, that house had never felt entirely hers. This one did—both the main Victorian and this garage, which had the same facade as the original carriage house but was a totally different beast inside. Oh yes, it had a small office in the second-floor loft, but more important to Caroline was the belly below.
The equivalent of a generous two-car garage, it was outfitted with superb lighting and the latest in ventilation systems to remove sawdust from the air. That said, there was just enough of it gathered at the feet of the worktables to bring her comfort. Add to its smell the fainter ones of glue, wood stain, even a lingering electrical smell from her new belt saw, and she was in her element. Her tools were on shelves and wall hooks, or mounted on tables, with goggles and gloves lying nearby. Mingling among them, though, and just as precious to her were the relics from her father’s workshop. Most were small hand tools. Running her hand now over a palm sander that had been revolutionary in his day, she was taken back to her roots.
She was a carpenter. The scent of sawdust, like comfort food, was an anesthetic. She was okay, she told herself. She didn’t need to host a TV show.
Momentarily soothed, she tried Jamie again, but when she hit voice mail, the soothing leeched away. Jamie knew. Jamie prepped. Jamie plotted.
But knowing Caroline would be hurt?
She thought about asking Roy and quickly vetoed the idea. All he would do was gloat.
Theo, on the other hand, was her champion. He might have insight into what was happening and why. But running to her ex-father-in-law at the first sign of trouble just wasn’t her way.
Unable to work because of her hand and too unsettled to sit still, she left the garage and paced the yard as she waited for Jamie’s call. But the cell in her hand remained silent, and the longer it did that, the more damning things seemed. Jamie was taking her sweet time returning her call, which was so not like Jamie that there had to be more going on.
Plane trouble? Back inside, she checked the airline’s website. ARRIVED , it said.
She thought of calling Dean. But he was in the air somewhere in the middle of the country, and besides, his solution to life problems was either to ride on the Harley or to hunt.
Annie would be as angry as Dean. But she was doing a huge installation at a MacAfee project an hour away. And Caroline didn’t want to involve anyone else until she talked with Jamie.
She wanted to convince herself that being upset was petty and that she’d be fine as long as she was still part of the show. She wanted to say she didn’t care if Jamie hosted.
But the silence grew louder with each minute that passed, so that by the time Jamie finally called, Caroline was ready to believe the worst.
seven
Jamie’s heart lurched when she heard Caroline’s message. It was too short and too tense, not like her mother at all. And though Jamie was in a car with her client and needed to maintain a semblance of professionalism, there was no way she wasn’t calling right back.
Picking up, Caroline said her name, just her name.
“What’s wrong?” Jamie asked in the lowest of voices.
“Claire was here.”
Jamie pressed her fingers to her forehead, as much to shield her voice from the driver as to keep herself calm. “She wasn’t supposed to do that.”
“How long have you known?”
“One day.”
“That’s not what she said. She said you’ve known for a while.”
“Not true.”
“She said they’ve
Inhaling the familiar scent of sawdust, she ousted Roy from her mind. She didn’t want him here. This place was hers.
Up until five years before, she had lived in the house they shared while married, and though it was a dozen years before that when he moved out and signed over the deed, that house had never felt entirely hers. This one did—both the main Victorian and this garage, which had the same facade as the original carriage house but was a totally different beast inside. Oh yes, it had a small office in the second-floor loft, but more important to Caroline was the belly below.
The equivalent of a generous two-car garage, it was outfitted with superb lighting and the latest in ventilation systems to remove sawdust from the air. That said, there was just enough of it gathered at the feet of the worktables to bring her comfort. Add to its smell the fainter ones of glue, wood stain, even a lingering electrical smell from her new belt saw, and she was in her element. Her tools were on shelves and wall hooks, or mounted on tables, with goggles and gloves lying nearby. Mingling among them, though, and just as precious to her were the relics from her father’s workshop. Most were small hand tools. Running her hand now over a palm sander that had been revolutionary in his day, she was taken back to her roots.
She was a carpenter. The scent of sawdust, like comfort food, was an anesthetic. She was okay, she told herself. She didn’t need to host a TV show.
Momentarily soothed, she tried Jamie again, but when she hit voice mail, the soothing leeched away. Jamie knew. Jamie prepped. Jamie plotted.
But knowing Caroline would be hurt?
She thought about asking Roy and quickly vetoed the idea. All he would do was gloat.
Theo, on the other hand, was her champion. He might have insight into what was happening and why. But running to her ex-father-in-law at the first sign of trouble just wasn’t her way.
Unable to work because of her hand and too unsettled to sit still, she left the garage and paced the yard as she waited for Jamie’s call. But the cell in her hand remained silent, and the longer it did that, the more damning things seemed. Jamie was taking her sweet time returning her call, which was so not like Jamie that there had to be more going on.
Plane trouble? Back inside, she checked the airline’s website. ARRIVED , it said.
She thought of calling Dean. But he was in the air somewhere in the middle of the country, and besides, his solution to life problems was either to ride on the Harley or to hunt.
Annie would be as angry as Dean. But she was doing a huge installation at a MacAfee project an hour away. And Caroline didn’t want to involve anyone else until she talked with Jamie.
She wanted to convince herself that being upset was petty and that she’d be fine as long as she was still part of the show. She wanted to say she didn’t care if Jamie hosted.
But the silence grew louder with each minute that passed, so that by the time Jamie finally called, Caroline was ready to believe the worst.
seven
Jamie’s heart lurched when she heard Caroline’s message. It was too short and too tense, not like her mother at all. And though Jamie was in a car with her client and needed to maintain a semblance of professionalism, there was no way she wasn’t calling right back.
Picking up, Caroline said her name, just her name.
“What’s wrong?” Jamie asked in the lowest of voices.
“Claire was here.”
Jamie pressed her fingers to her forehead, as much to shield her voice from the driver as to keep herself calm. “She wasn’t supposed to do that.”
“How long have you known?”
“One day.”
“That’s not what she said. She said you’ve known for a while.”
“Not true.”
“She said they’ve
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