Olivia had heard the stories about Jake’s childhood summers growing up on Candlewood Lake. The days spent waterskiing, boating, and jumping off of Chicken Rock. They sounded idyllic, and something she found herself craving each time she listened. But Jake’s family was still very much new to her and Luci, and placing Luci in the tight confines of a boat with a big group gave Olivia pause. If she found it to be too much, it wasn’t as if she could get off to take a break from all the stimulus.
“I don’t know,” she said, carefully. “It sounds lovely. But what if Luci gets overwhelmed?” She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but it wasn’t as simple as a day out in a boat.
Jake was still learning what worked and what did not. There were times when Olivia thought he understood; when they planned outings together, he was certain to keep the trips short and allow for a stimulus break, so Luci could wander off and have time to herself. Earlier that spring they’d gone on a hike to Kent Falls. The day had been perfect, sunny and blue-skied. Visitors crowded the park tossing Frisbees in the field, picnicking, and climbing the steep wooded steps alongside the waterfall. They could lose themselves among it all. Luci delighted in running around and petting the dogs. She waded in the pools at the base of the falls, watching the other kids splashing one another. And when she needed a break, they could retire to the wooded trails together. It was the perfect kind of outing for her. Now, with this invitation to crowd into a boat in the middle of the lake with all of Jake’s family, Olivia fought off her frustration and wondered if she’d overestimated his understanding.
“Do you think it’s too much?” he asked.
Olivia shrugged. There was also the matter of not wanting to be burdensome on others. She imagined Jane Goodwin packing an expansive picnic lunch and all the fixings she’d go to the trouble to prepare. There’d be mixed drinks and multiple courses—enough to make a full day of it out on the lake. The last thing Olivia wanted as a soon-to-be daughter-in-law was to be a downer to their outing. And then there was Perry; he was unflappably polite if quirky, but no matter what she did or said, Perry always seemed to be watching her warily. Unlike the others, who were so vibrant in their welcoming, she’d not been able to break through his cool exterior.
“Look, my family understands,” Jake reassured her. “And I think it’s time we did more together, so that both they and Luci get comfortable around each other. We’re going to be a family, right?”
Even in the growing darkness, Jake’s brown eyes were bright with hope. He wanted so much to include her in the fold of his family, something she loved deeply about him. He’d only recently returned to New England to settle down, he’d told her when they first met. Never before had he thought he’d come back to sleepy Connecticut to stay, let alone get married. And yet he had, and she was the one he’d chosen.
From the day she’d attended his grandmother’s birthday party, it had become clear to her that Jake was the golden boy in his family. All of the Goodwins were startlingly good-looking and bright, but Jake possessed the best qualities of them all. He was sharp like Perry, and yet playful like Phoebe. He was as kind as she’d found his father, Edward, to be in just the few times she’d spent time with him. And as social as Jane, who loved to fill her house and entertain. Since they’d met, Olivia had seen how others were drawn to him, just as she had been. Complete strangers in bars who would be laughing and sharing stories like old friends by the time the evening ended. Beautiful women on the subway, who stole looks across the aisle, despite the fact that he had his arm snug around Olivia’s waist. Jake Goodwin was the kind of man who could have his pick. And he’d chosen her and Luci.
“All right,” she said, finally. “Let’s make it a date on the lake.”
Jake leaned over and kissed her. “It will be fun. I’ll take good care of you girls,” he said. “I promise.”
Already, Jake had promised Olivia so much. She tipped her head back, letting her eyes wander across the starry sky. Olivia was the only child of an expat single father and raised in a New York restaurant. Her sense of family consisted of busboys andhostesses and loyal customers. Holidays belonged to the public; her father’s job, and later hers, was to host and feed and nourish them. To make their special occasions more so. There had never been cousins to play with, or aunts and uncles to visit; no grandmother to fuss over her. Olivia had never had any of that as a child. And it was all she’d ever wanted for Luci.
Olivia reached over and squeezed Jake’s hand, as the wine settled into her limbs. With Jake’s family they’d have it all.
Phoebe
Rose Calloway was the bank construction loan officer, and over the course of the seven months the house had been under renovation the two women had had so many phone conversations that Phoebe considered her almost a friend. Almost.
The initial conversations had been endless: the application process, the insurance policies needed (one million dollars for a five-hundred-thousand-dollar house?), the advances, the inspections, the payout schedule. If getting the loan wasn’t hard enough, keeping track of the construction loan process was positively mind-boggling. First there was the advance, which initially seemed generous to Phoebe, to get the renovations started. But Phoebe soon learned it would be burned through like fire. Not to worry, Rose assured her; it happened all the time with up-front costs, and she’d get the hang of staying ahead of the budget as building progressed. After that, Rose explained that payouts were determined based on progress inspections. It was up to Phoebe to decide when she wanted to schedule these inspections. When the inspector did come out, he or she would review the progress of the renovation and give percentages of funds according to percentages of work done. Then Phoebe could forward the funds to her contractor to cover costs and dispense them to his subcontractors. There was a good deal of passing large sums of money through hands, and for a girl who loathed math, the management of such funds was daunting. But with Rose’s help, Phoebe had gotten it done.
Over the course of those many phone conversations, Phoebe felt like she and Rose had gotten to know each other. During their first call, she learned that Rose had a grandson named Peter who played soccer. During another, when Phoebe lamented the late night she’d spent with two sickly throwing-up toddlers, Rose had clucked her tongue sympathetically into the receiver and said, “Oh, I don’t miss those days. But you’ll get through it.” Commiseration had taken place. A few laughs had been shared. Rose knew that Phoebe was a real person. And surely that would help her to make her case today when she met with Rose to ask for an increase in funding. Besides, Phoebe had always pictured what Rose looked like and was looking forward to seeing how close her imagination had been.
Now, as she sat on the other side of Rose’s desk, she realized that her imagination sucked. Rose did not have a soft grandmotherly expression or a sympathetic ear. Phoebe’s imagined kinship with the woman vaporized under the harsh bank lighting as soon as Rose opened a file and turned it around to face Phoebe.
“Remember the appraisal report?”
Phoebe did.
Rose pointed to a number at the bottom of a column. “This is what we base your loan amount on. The combination of proposed building improvements with the current value of the building and the value of the land.”
She looked at Phoebe. “Have you made any upgrades or additions to the building design?”
Phoebe shook her head.
“And the lot size remains the same.”
It was not a question. But Phoebe nodded.
“Then I’m afraid we can’t increase the funding allotted since it matches the appraised value of the proposed work to be done.” She let out her breath. “If anything, the market has struggled and lakefronts have been slow to recover. This appraisal from over a year ago is higher than what it might evaluate at today. In that case, you’re lucky.”
“Lucky.” Phoebe stared at the chart. What she felt was poor. House poor, to be exact. She fiddled with the collar of her shirt and looked around. Why was it so hot in the bank?
“Well, if we can’t increase the amount of the construction loan, there must be something else we can do. Is it possible to advance an advance?”
Rose looked at her levelly. The woman did not look like anyone who’d nursed a sick boy through a night. “As I explained at the beginning of the loan process, advances are based upon percentages of work done.” She whisked another file out of the shadowy reach behind her desk. God, there were so many files. This time she ran her finger across a spreadsheet. “See this? This is your total loan balance of the funds paid out thus far. And here is the percentage of work done. If you look carefully, you can see that on your most recent inspection he allowed for one hundred percent release of the siding funds. That includes both materials and labor.” She looked up at Phoebe to be sure she understood. “And didn’t you just tell me that the siding is only about fifty percent complete?”
Phoebe winced. The siding was only halfway done. And yet they’d blown through all of the funds for it. Which had gone to sill beam and termite repairs. Yes, money had been misallocated. But wasn’t that exactly what Rose had also told her in one of their first phone conversations? “I remember you saying that I could allocate funds accordingly. That just because the inspector released funds for siding, for example, it didn’t mean I couldn’t apply those funds to something else.”
Rose nodded. “Correct. How you channel those funds is ultimately up to you, because we recognize that the building process isn’t exactly linear. As you’ve discovered, there are all kinds of unknowns.”
