Nevertheless there was something cunning in Ryan, something calculating and watchful. And wasn’t that natural? He seemed to be testing Michael with these riffs of information. Michael only nodded, and shrugged. “Sounds great.”
By late afternoon, Michael and Rowan were back at the house conferring with the men around the pool. The stench of the muck that had been dredged from the bottom was unbearable. Shirtless and barefooted, the men carried it away in wheelbarrows. There were no real leaks in the old cement. You could tell because there was no sogginess in the ground anywhere. The foreman told Michael they could have the whole thing patched and replastered by the middle of next week.
“Sooner if you can,” said Rowan. “I don’t mind paying you overtime to work this weekend. Bring it back fast. I can’t stand the sight of it the way it is now.”
They were glad for the extra paychecks. In fact, just about every workman on the place was happy to work the weekend.
All new heating and filtering equipment was being installed for the pool. The gas connections were satisfactory. The new electric service was already going in.
And Michael got on the phone to another painting crew to take care of the cabana. Sure, they’d work Saturday, for time and a half. Wouldn’t take much to paint its wooden doors, and refit its shower, lavatory, and small changing rooms.
“So what color do you want the house to be?” Michael asked. “They’ll get to the outside painting faster than you think. And you want the cabana and the
“Tell me what you want,” she said.
“I’d leave it the violet color it’s always been. The dark green shutters go with it just fine. I’d keep the whole scheme, actually-blue for the roofs of the porches, and gray for the porch floors, and black for the cast iron. By the way, I found a little man who can replace the pieces of the iron that are missing. He’s already making the molds. He has his own shop back by the river. Did anyone tell you about the iron fence that runs around this property?”
“Tell me.”
“It’s even older than the house. It was the early nineteenth century version of chain link. That is, it was prefab. And it goes all the way down First Street and turns on Camp because that’s how big the property once was. Now, we should paint it, just a nice coat of black paint is all it needs, just like the railings … ”
“Bring in all the crews you need,” she said. “The violet color is perfect. And if you have to make a decision without me, make it. Make it look like you think it should look. Spend what you think ought to be spent.”
“You’re a contractor’s dream, darling,” he said. “We’re off to a roaring start. Gotta go. See that man who just came out the back door? He’s coming to tell me he ran into a problem with the upstairs bathroom walls. I knew he would.”
“Don’t work too hard,” she said in his ear, her deep velvety voice bringing the chills up on him. A nice little throb of excitement caught him between the legs as she crushed her breasts against his arm. No time for it.
“Work too hard? I’m just warming up. And let me tell you something else, Rowan. There are a couple of damn near irresistible houses I’d like to tackle in this town when we’re through here. I see the future, Rowan. I see Great Expectations with offices on Magazine Street. I could bring those houses back slowly and carefully and ride out the bad market. This house is only the first.”
“How much do you need to pick them up?”
“Honey, I have the money to do that,” he said, kissing her quickly. “I’ve got plenty of money. Ask your cousin Ryan if you don’t believe me. If he hasn’t already run a complete credit check on me, I’d be very surprised.”
“Michael, if he says one wrong word to you … ”
“Rowan, I’m in paradise. Relax!”
Saturday and Sunday rolled by at the same grand pace. The gardeners worked until after dark mowing down the weeds and digging the old cast-iron furniture out of the brush.
Rowan and Michael and Aaron set up the old table and chairs in the center of the lawn, and there they had their lunch each day.
Aaron was making some progress with Julien’s books, but they were mostly lists of names, with brief enigmatic statements. No real autobiography at all. “So far, my most unkind guess is that these are lists of successful vendettas.” He read a sampling.
“ ‘April 4, 1889 Hendrickson paid out as he deserved.’
“ ‘May 9, 1889, Carlos paid in kind.’
“ ‘June 7, 1889, furious with Wendell for his display of temper last night. Showed him a thing or two. No more worries there.’
“It goes on like that,” said Aaron, “page after page, book after book. Occasionally there are little maps and drawings, and financial notes. But for the most part that’s all it is. I’d say there are approximately twenty-two entries per year. I’ve yet to come upon a coherent full paragraph. No, if the autobiography exists, it’s not here.”
“What about the attic, are you game to go up there?” asked Rowan.
“Not now. I had a fall last night.”
“What are you talking about?”
“On the staircase at the hotel. I was impatient with the elevator. I fell to the first landing. It might have been worse.”
“Aaron, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Well, this is soon enough. There’s nothing out of the ordinary about it, except that I don’t recall losing my footing. But I’ve a sore ankle, and I’d like to put off going up into the attic.”
Rowan was crestfallen, angry. She gazed up at the facade of the house. There were workmen everywhere. On the parapets, on the porches, in the open bedroom windows.
“Don’t become unduly alarmed,” said Aaron. “I want you to know, but I don’t want you to fret.”
It was clear to Michael that Rowan was speechless. He could feel her fury. He could see the disfigurement of the anger in her face.
“We’ve seen nothing here,” said Michael to Aaron. “Absolutely nothing. And no one else has seen anything, at least not anything worth mentioning to either of us.”
“You were pushed, weren’t you?” asked Rowan in a low voice.
“Perhaps,” said Aaron.
“He’s deviling you.”
“I think so,” said Aaron with a little nod. “He likes to knock Julien’s books about too, when he has the opportunity, which seems to be whenever I leave the room. Again, I thought it important you know about it, but I don’t want you to fret.”
“Why’s he doing it?”
“Maybe he wants your attention,” said Aaron. “But I hesitate to say. Whatever the case, trust that I can protect myself. The work here does seem to be coming along splendidly.”
“No problems,” said Michael, but he was pitched into gloom.
After lunch, he walked Aaron to the gate.
“I’m having too much fun, aren’t I?” he asked.
“Of course you aren’t,” said Aaron. “What a strange thing to say.”
“I wish it would come to a boil,” said Michael. “I think I’ll win when it does. But the waiting is driving me nuts. After all, what is he waiting for?”
“What about your hands? I do wish you’d try to go without the gloves.”
“I have. I take off the gloves for a couple of hours each day. I can’t get used to the heat, the zinging feeling, even when I can blot everything else out. Look, do you want me to walk with you back to the hotel?”
“Of course not. I’ll see you there tonight if you have time for a drink.”
“Yeah, it’s like a dream coming true, isn’t it?” he asked wistfully. “I mean for me.”
“No, for both of us,” said Aaron.
“You trust me?”
“Why on earth would you ask?”
“Do you think I’m going to win? Do you think I’m going to do what they want of me?”
