Elizabeth Blackwell - The House Of Secrets

Constance carefully wiped her lips with her napkin, then leaned toward Alissa.

“Between you and me, I think you got the bargain of the century,” she said.

Alissa laughed with relief. “Thank you. I mean—I was so sure I was doing the right thing when I signed the papers, but lately, I’ve wondered what I’ve gotten myself into.”

“Of course you have. I feel like that on every job I take. There’s always a hidden support beam that can’t be moved or some other random complication. But this place—Alissa, it’s wonderful.”

Alissa grinned.

“It’s got such great bones,” Constance continued. “The rooms, the way each one opens onto the other, with fantastic sight lines…it’s really ahead of its time. Now, I’d open it up even more, as I said, but even just updating it will make such a difference. Didn’t you say something about a bed-and-breakfast?”

“Maybe,” Alissa said. “A lot of people come out here from Baltimore and Washington for the weekend. I could make extra money renting out rooms in the summer if I had to. It all depends on how my design business goes.”

“And how’s it going?”

“All right, I guess.” Alissa shrugged. “A few of my clients from Marsh and Mason said they’d like to keep working with me. Nothing fancy—mostly basements and kids’ rooms. Honestly, I’ve been so busy here that I don’t have time to drum up new business.”

“Whenever you’re ready for more work, let me know,” Constance said. “I’ve got a lot of contacts who could help get you started. Anything I can do to keep you from going back to that miserable office.”

“Walking out the door was one of the greatest days of my life,” Alissa agreed. “No regrets there.”

“Look.” Constance pursed her lips with concern. “I’m really sorry I didn’t make it to your goodbye party. I wanted to be there.”

“I know,” Alissa said. Despite all the confidences that the two women had exchanged over the years, there was one topic Alissa didn’t know how to address: Constance’s desperate desire for a child. Years of trying unsuccessfully to get pregnant had finally given way to tests and doctors’ visits and fertility treatments. Now, Constance and her husband, Colin, were at the mercy of a constant, ever-changing schedule of tests and procedures. When a few of Alissa’s coworkers had thrown her a combination leaving-work and leaving-Baltimore party, Constance had called to say she wouldn’t be there because she had a hospital appointment early the next morning. Alissa hadn’t needed to ask why.

“So, the hospital?” Alissa asked carefully.

Constance shook her head slowly. “No luck. But thanks for asking. There’s some good news, though,” she said with a determined smile. “I met with another specialist, and he thinks I’m a good candidate for a new kind of treatment. I’ll spare you the gory details—it probably won’t be pleasant—but it’s worth a shot.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed,” Alissa promised. “If you ever want to talk about it…”

Constance nodded. “I know.”

Alissa took in her friend’s wistful expression and changed the subject. “So, how does Colin like his new job?” Alissa asked.

“It’s good enough for now. Keeping the books for a dysfunctional family business was never his long-term ambition, but at least he’ll get some decent stories out of it.” Constance’s husband had been laid off from a large accounting firm a year earlier, and Alissa had watched them both grow steadily more frustrated with his fruitless job hunt. Constance had even implied they would have to take a break from fertility treatments because of financial worries. But now that Colin was employed again, things seemed to be looking up.

“Have you heard from Brad?” Constance asked.

“Nope. Thank God. I don’t need the distraction,” Alissa lied. In reality, she was hurt that he hadn’t called once, even though she’d left her new number on his voice mail. After talking every day for years, it seemed impossible that they now had nothing to say. Not that she wanted to get back together. It just felt strange to have him so absent from her life.

“His loss,” Constance said. Their laughter was interrupted by a knock on the front door.

“Ah, it’s your new handyman!” Constance announced. “Should I get going? I don’t want to be in the way of the big interview.”

“No, please stay,” Alissa urged. “I’d love a second opinion.”

As the two women walked toward the front door, Constance whispered, “Do you think he’s still got all his teeth?”

“I don’t care if he’s toothless and bald,” Alissa whispered back. “As long as he’s strong enough to pick up a hammer.”

Still smiling, she pulled open the heavy wood door. Her smile froze and her eyes widened in surprise. The man standing before her was far from the grizzled, feeble handyman she had envisioned. Instead, she faced a man not much older than herself, with muscular shoulders and biceps that nicely filled out his gray T-shirt. She was struck by his green eyes, which stared at her intently as if equally taken with her. He ran one hand through his longish, dark brown hair, shaking her out of her reverie.

“Alissa Franklin?” he asked.

“Daniel Pierce?”

His eyes crinkled amid laugh lines as they shook hands. “Call me Danny,” he said.

“Danny.” She stood unmoving, still trying to reconcile this vigorous man with the decrepit figure she had expected.

“Can I come in?” Danny asked, gesturing to the hallway behind her.

“Of course,” Alissa said, embarrassed by her awkwardness. “Um, this is my friend Constance. She’s just visiting. I mean, she’s an architect, so she might have some questions for you, too. Just, you know, to get another perspective.”

Constance stepped forward to block Alissa’s nervous chatter. “Nice to meet you, Danny.” She gripped his hand with both of hers, then turned her back to him and gave Alissa a wide-eyed smile. “Hot!” she mouthed.

Danny ran a hand down his face as though stifling a laugh. Mortified that he might have caught Constance’s reaction, Alissa stiffened her shoulders and fixed Danny with her best professional expression.

“I’m sorry,” Danny said good-naturedly. “I shouldn’t be surprised. I just thought you’d be much older.”

Alissa relaxed. “I thought the same thing about you.”

And with that, the nervousness lifted. Alissa felt like herself again. How many times had she interviewed workmen for projects? She could do this almost without thinking. As they sat at the dining room table and Alissa described her plans for the house, she ignored Constance’s meaningful looks and teasing asides. Constance—happily married for almost ten years—could enjoy a harmless flirtation. Alissa, on the other hand, would be this man’s employer. She had to make it clear she wasn’t angling for a date. No matter how hot he was.

Taking Danny on a walk through the house, Alissa was struck by his silence. He didn’t try to impress her, although his occasional comments showed a more than passable knowledge of architecture and design. Unlike so many other men she’d met in construction, he didn’t come on strong. If anything, he appeared too thoughtful—something she had never encountered in a workman before.

“I’ll need to check your references,” Alissa said as they returned to the front door.

“Sure.” Danny pulled a crumpled, folded piece of paper from his jeans pocket. “There are some names and numbers on here.”

She took the worn sheet and unfolded it gingerly. He hadn’t put much effort into the presentation. Would he be this cavalier about his work?

“Thanks,” Alissa said. “I’ll be in touch.”