Danielle Steel: Miracle

“That sounds about right to me. Will you oversee the roofer too?” Quinn had no desire to become the job foreman on the project, but Jack had no intention of letting him do that, and there was no need to. He was totally competent, and the men he used liked working for him.

“I'll take care of everything, Mr. Thompson. That's my job. All you do is write the checks. And I'll keep you apprised of what we're doing.” Jack was well spoken and intelligent, and there was an instant respect between the two men. Quinn needed his help, and badly, and he knew it. And from everything Jack had seen of Quinn, he liked him. Jack had a sense that Quinn would be fair with him. He was a businessman, and probably a good one, to the very tips of his fingers. You could see easily that he was used to being in command, and Jack also sensed correctly that Quinn didn't want to be bothered with the details. As far as Jack was concerned, he didn't need to be. He wondered if there was a wife he was going to be dealing with too. There were a number of photographs around of a pretty, middle-aged woman, but Quinn hadn't mentioned her. He was handling the matter himself, maybe just because it was easier for him to do it. But whatever his circumstances, Jack didn't feel they were any of his business, and didn't ask any questions of a personal nature. Quinn liked that too. Jack Adams was all about business, just as he was.

“How fast can you work up an estimate?” Quinn asked matter-of-factly. In the hands of any of the larger firms, Quinn knew it would have cost him a fortune. But this man was young and independent, and hopefully not insanely expensive. Quinn didn't think he would be. Jack wanted the work, and seemed excited about the prospect of working for him.

“I can have it to you by this afternoon,” Jack responded as he set down the mug and glanced at his watch. He wanted to do the job for his friend that day so he would be free to do this one. “If it's all right with you, I'll drop it by this evening. I have a friend who does some of the paperwork for me. It leaves me free to get out in the field and do what I need to do. I'll call the numbers in to her today, and bring it to you when I finish work. Will that work for you?”

“Perfectly. You can have her fax it to me if that's easier for you.” He handed Jack the fax number on a piece of paper, and Jack stuck it in his pocket, and held out a hand to Quinn.

“I hope we'll be working together, Mr. Thompson.”

“I hope so too,” Quinn said simply, and smiled at him. He liked everything about him, his look, his manners, how bright he was, what he had said about the work to be done. Jack Adams was the best thing that had happened to him since the storm that hit San Francisco.

Jack left a few minutes later, and drove off in his truck.

Feeling immensely relieved, Quinn went to put in a call to Tem Hakker in Holland, to check on the progress of his sailboat. And he couldn't help wondering, as strange as it may have seemed, if Jack liked sailing, or knew anything about boats.

5

JACK ADAMS CAME BACK, AS PROMISED, THE NEXT DAY and the work began in an orderly, efficient way. He had faxed Quinn a very reasonable estimate, as promised, the day before. The deal had been made, and a contract signed. He brought two big burly young men with him, and they kept to themselves and went straight to work. They greeted Quinn, or nodded, when he went in or out, but Jack was the only one who had contact with him. And the roofer appeared to do his work at the end of the week. The tree had done more damage than they'd thought at first, and the roofer consulted with Jack and Quinn about what needed to be done. It was an extensive job, but Quinn had no choice in the matter. The roof had to be repaired, and Quinn wasn't trying to cut corners. He wanted it done right, in the best possible way, no matter how expensive it was, even though he was selling the house. And Jack respected him for that, as he did for all else. He had already figured out in the first few days that Quinn Thompson was a pleasure to work with, as long as you were fair with him, and told him honestly what was happening, and what you thought you could do about it. What he didn't like were misrepresentations and lies, or people who shirked their responsibilities. But there was none of that with Jack Adams in charge of the job. He was completely professional, and every few days, he brought Quinn up to speed.

He was coming into the house to do just that at the end of the second week, when he found Quinn sitting at his desk and poring over some plans.

“Building a new house somewhere?” Jack asked pleasantly. He never asked questions inappropriately, but Quinn was so intent on what he was looking at that Jack couldn't help but be intrigued. And whatever the plans were for, it looked huge.

Quinn looked up with a tired smile. He had done a lot of paperwork for Jane's estate that week, and it was tedious, depressing work. His reward to himself for doing it was spending some time going over the latest plans for the boat. “Not a house, Jack. A boat. Do you know anything about boats?”

“Not a thing,” Jack admitted with a grin. “I've looked at them a lot, and watched some sailboat races on the bay. But I've never been on a boat in my life.”

“You're missing a great thing,” Quinn said, as he turned the plans around on his desk, so Jack could see them. He knew he would appreciate the precision with which they had been done. Jack was meticulous himself. “She'll be ready in the fall. I'm going to live on her, after I sell this house.” Jack nodded, looking the plans over carefully. He didn't ask questions, he was just admiring what he was seeing.

“Where are you going to sail the boat to?” Jack asked with interest.

“Everywhere. The South Pacific. Antarctica. South America. Europe. Scandinavia. Africa. I can go anywhere I want with a boat like this. I bought her in November, the day before I came home from Europe.”

“She must be beautiful to see,” Jack said admiringly, but without a touch of envy. He had a great deal of respect for Quinn, and thought the man deserved all he had.

“Not yet, but she will be when she's finished.”

“Where is she?” Quinn was amused when he asked the question. The name of the boatyard was written boldly across the page, with the word NETHERLANDS printed out clearly, but Jack had obviously not seen it. Quinn assumed he had been too dazzled by the boat's exquisite design to notice, and he couldn't blame him. Quinn was already deeply in love with his new boat, and he was sure that anyone who would see her would be too.

“She's being built in Holland,” Quinn answered.

“Do you go over often?” Jack was intrigued by him. Everything about Quinn suggested style, elegance, and power. He seemed like a real hero to him.

“I will until she's finished. I want to oversee the details myself.”

“When are you putting the house on the market?” They had talked about it, and Jack was aware of it, but Quinn hadn't given him any precise dates. Now that he had seen the plans for the boat, Jack knew that Quinn's departure was not vague or simply a possibility, it was real.

“I'll put the house up for sale as soon as you're finished, or sometime in late spring. I'm assuming it will take a few months to sell. I want to be out of here by September or October. The boat should be ready by then.”

“I'd love to see her. I hope you bring her here.” But that was exactly what Quinn didn't want. He wanted to get as far away as he could from his relentless memories, and the world he had shared with Jane. All he wanted now was to sail away and take his memories with him. Being in the house he had shared with her, in the city where they had lived for nearly forty years, was just too hard for him. He hardly slept at night, and roamed throughout the house, aching for her. Thinking about all the things he had never done for or with her was a heavy weight to bear. What he needed now was a reprieve, and he felt certain the boat would give that to him. Jack knew that Quinn's wife had died. Quinn had mentioned it to him one day the previous week, and Jack had told him quietly how sorry he was to hear it. He sensed now some small measure of how lonely Quinn was. Quinn had also said that he had a daughter who lived in Geneva.