“How long did you live here?” Jamal asked just as Phil took a bite of her sandwich. “Sorry,” he said, obviously realizing what he’d done.
She held up a finger. While she chewed, she studied his legs, which hung off the edge of the truck’s tailgate, where they sat eating their lunch. The muscles were so well defined that they looked as if they were sculpted by hand. A faded four-inch line stretched across his knee.
“Surgery?” she asked, gesturing to it.
“Yeah, back in college. The bitter end to my dreams of playing in the major leagues.”
“I forgot you played college baseball with Corey. That’s how you two met, right?”
He nodded. “We were teammates for a couple of years. He was a junior when I was a freshmen, but somehow we ended up being assigned together as roommates. Pissed him off, until the first care package from my mom arrived.” He chuckled. “He warmed up to me after one bite of her famous walnut chocolate chip cookies.”
“It must have been hard to see Corey go off to the majors,” she said.
“He wanted it way more than I did,” Jamal said with a casual shrug. “Playing major league baseball had always been my dad’s dream. I just happened to be good at baseball, so I played it.” He glanced at her. “I haven’t admitted this to very many people, but when I went down with that knee injury, I was more relieved than anything else.”
“So, you spent most of your childhood trying to please your dad too, huh?”
“You too?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah. I was a total daddy’s girl. He hung the moon. Literally.” Phil laughed. “Back when I was in grade school, my room was decorated with a solar system motif,” she explained.
“What was it like growing up here?”
“It was wonderful. Just look at it.” She gestured toward the Victorian. “How many houses are so grand that they warrant a name? When I was younger, I used to pretend it was a castle.”
“When did you move out?” he asked. “The Realtor said the house had been abandoned for some time.”
“Unoccupied, not abandoned,” Phil reminded him. “I lived at Belle Maison until I finished college. I went to Southeastern in Hammond, so I commuted back and forth. Who in their right mind would pick a dorm room over this, huh?”
“It sure beats that cubbyhole Corey and I shared back at Arizona State.” He laughed, then tipped his head to the side in inquiry. “What does a restoration specialist study in college? Did you get a degree in design?”
“No, finance.” Phil rolled her eyes at his dumbfounded look. “I know, I know. How does a person with a finance degree end up restoring furniture?”
“It’s not that big of a stretch. Corey told me the restoration business was your dad’s. Did you work in the finance world before joining the family business?”
“Nope.” She shook her head. “I always knew this was what I wanted to do. But I figured I could help my dad grow the business with my finance degree.”
But things had not worked out as she’d hoped. Phil could recall verbatim the argument she’d had with her dad over her vision for the company. If she had known it would be the last words she ever said to him, she wouldn’t have uttered half the things that came out of her mouth that day.
She took a sip of the iced tea Jamal had brought back from Jessie’s. It had a hard time finding its way past the lump in her throat. “As I was saying, I lived here until I finished college. It was just me, Mom, and Dad.”
“This is a lot of house for three people,” he commented.
“I know,” Phil said, unable to suppress the nostalgic grin that drew across her lips. “According to the stories I’ve heard, my mom’s grandfather had anticipated a large family, but after three wives and several mistresses, he only managed to produce one son. The largest brood was my grandfather’s generation. There were four of them, but all of their descendants left Gauthier a long time ago. So the house passed down to my mom, and, eventually”—unfortunately,she thought—”to me.”
Jamal assessed her for several long moments. “You hate that I’m the one who bought this house, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she answered, not even considering lying, but was solicitous enough to soften the blow with a modest chuckle. “I don’t mean to be harsh, but our styles differ a bit too much for my comfort. When I heardyouwere the new owner, I fully expected to find a wind turbine in the front yard.”
Jamal’s brow dipped with his chastising frown. “Everyone knows the wind turbine goes in the backyard next to the gazebo.”
Phil nearly choked on her tea. She started to speak, but he stopped her with upraised palms.
“I’m kidding.” He laughed. “There will be no wind turbine. I promise. What do you have against saving the environment, anyway?”
“I don’t have anything against saving the environment,” she answered. “I just don’t like it when people ruin historic properties with their new-wave, save-the-trees green technology. Belle Maison has been standing here for more than a century and a half. It’s fine just the way it is.”
“And I’ll bet the utility bills are through the roof in the winter.”
