Getting Some Of Her Own (4 page)

She had to stay in Woodmore for at least a year because she had taken a one-year lease for the shop, so she might as well stay in her aunt's house. She phoned Mark and told him she was ready to sign for her inheritance.

“I had hoped you wouldn't make the city a gift of your aunt's property,” Mark said when she signed the papers. She left his office with keys to the house, the new BMW, a safe deposit box key and papers allowing her access to two bank accounts. Since she didn't have time to go to her apartment, she put the keys and papers in her purse and half walked, half ran the seven blocks to the old Wade Elementary School building. With five minutes before the tutoring classes were scheduled to begin, she rushed inside and stopped abruptly, as if a ghost suddenly loomed before her. Lucas.

“You!”
she gasped.

“What are
you
doing here?”

“I tutor a reading class of second graders,” she told him.

“Since when?”

“Since the day before yesterday. Why are you grilling me?”

“I didn't know I was. I do have a right to know, Susan, because I'm the principal for this program.”

She gaped at him. “Nobody told me that.” If she had known it, she would not have answered the ad. She wanted as little contact as possible with him.

Lucas exhaled a long breath and assumed the posture of one resigned. She would have given much to know his thoughts, but he didn't reveal them by gesture or by word. Yet, his very stillness told her he was no more comfortable than she. He pushed back his leather jacket, shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and said, simply, “No one told me about you being here, either.”

“I answered an ad in the paper for volunteers,” she told him, “but I can occupy myself with my work and my house, among other things. This isn't something I have to do.” She turned around and headed in the opposite direction.

“Susan!” It was part command and part plea. Urgent, yet soft.

She stopped, but didn't face him. When she felt the weight of his hand on her arm, she spun around and encountered his body. Like a deer caught in headlights, she stood transfixed, staring into his eyes. Shaken, she gazed at him, but she didn't see the man; it was the lover who stood before her and the lover's aura that nearly entrapped her. But as quickly as the shadow of their lovemaking returned to haunt them, she backed away, releasing herself from the spell.

“The children need us,” he said. “If we don't help them, we'll lose them. Without the ability to read and read well, they'll have a hard life. These children are more important than my emotions and yours.”

“Don't worry. I wasn't planning to resign.”

“But you said—”

“I know what I said, Lucas. I was telling you that I won't fall apart if you don't want me here.”

“I want—” He caught himself. “The children need you. I have almost two dozen fifth and sixth graders down the hall hoping for tutoring in math, so I'd better go. Be seeing you.”

Why couldn't I have chosen another man—any other man—for a fling? Why did I have to
. . . In spite of her consternation, she laughed.
What am I complaining about? He made it more than worthwhile. He made it beautiful.

She reached the room in which she tutored and, to her astonishment, a solemn Rudy stood outside the closed door. But when the child saw her approach, she smiled.

“Hi, Miss Pettiford.”

“Hello, Rudy. Why aren't you inside?”

“The kids always laugh at me. All except Nathan. He's nice.”

She took the child's hand, opened the door, went inside with her and complete silence immediately replaced the noise and merriment. If she accomplished nothing else, she would teach those children that clothes did not make the individual.

 

 

Lucas made his way to his classroom with heavy steps. A casual affair had never posed a problem for him, particularly on the few occasions when the woman made it clear that she was merely taking care of her needs, just as he was. He thought about that for a minute. Susan hadn't said she was tending her needs; indeed, she hadn't said why she decided to go to bed with him, and he made up his mind to find out if it took the rest of his life.

He discovered that he enjoyed the children more than he'd thought he would, and decided to devote a second evening each week to tutoring in physics, since he didn't have a teacher for it. At the end of the class, he stood in the corridor talking with a volunteer and saw Susan leaving the building holding a little girl's hand.
That's strange,
he thought.
The tutors aren't supposed to become involved with the students.
After a moment, he dismissed the thought. Perhaps the child wasn't feeling well.

Lucas drew the plans for Susan's shop and phoned Willis, his friend and partner in W. L. Carter Building and Contracting, Inc. He and Willis Carter roomed together as college freshmen and had been close friends ever since. When the Carter contracting business faltered, Lucas bought a fifty-two percent interest in it, reasoning that a liaison between an architect and a building contractor made sense. They sent customers to each other, but Willis served as the CEO of W. L. Carter Building and Contracting, Inc., and Lucas focused on his architectural firm. Both businesses flourished.

On that crisp November morning, Lucas sat on his deck sipping hot coffee and watching the yellow, orange and brown oak leaves float lackadaisically to earth. He cherished the early mornings when his mind was most active and energy stirred in him. He dialed Willis's number, confident that at six-thirty in the morning, his sleep-loving friend hadn't ventured far from the bed.

“What's up, Lucas? Did you ring me earlier? I was 'sleep, man.”

“Yeah? If you were asleep, how do you know the phone rang?”

He heard the sound of feet hitting the floor. “Come on, man. It's still night. What's up?”

“I've got a rush job for you. Can you come over here? I'll even cook you some breakfast.”

“Breakfast? Right. Give me forty-five minutes.”

He set the table on the deck as the sky's red, blue and gray streaks heralded the coming of the sun. It took him longer than half an hour to lay out the plans for Susan's shop, because he'd added extras that would increase the value of the unit in case she decided to sublet it. When he heard Willis's car stop in front of his house, he poured the coffee and began scrambling eggs.

“What's so urgent about this job, and who's it for?” Willis asked him when he jumped up on the deck.

“Her name's Susan Pettiford, and she's an interior decorator. She rented space in the Halpern Building, which is a co-operative. If everything works out, she'll buy it.”

“This stuff is good. I'd like the recipe for these waffles.”

Lucas handed him the plans. “Aunt Jesse or Southern Pines. One of those. Look in the frozen food section of the supermarket. What do you think?”

Willis glanced at it. “Looks simple enough, but I won't know until I get there and see what I have to work with. What's this? You want me to rip up half the floor?”

“Well, she didn't ask for it, but a decorator's showroom should be elegant, and that floor is tacky.”

Willis put the plans aside, drained the coffee cup and went to the kitchen for more coffee. He returned, sat down and focused his gaze on Lucas. “What am I charging her?”

Lucas flexed his right shoulder in apparent nonchalance. “That's up to you, but when she asked for an estimate, I told her I thought it ought to be somewhere around two or three thousand.”

Willis' whistle split the air. “That was before you thought of the toilet, kitchen and storage room, right? Also, you didn't charge her for the plans, did you?”

“Naw, man. Those plans took no time.”

Willis sipped his coffee and looked into the distance. “This isn't like you, Lucas. Would you mind telling me what Susan Pettiford is to you?”

He should have expected the question, because Willis Carter knew him as well as he had ever allowed anyone to know him. He rubbed the back of his neck. “The truth? I really don't know exactly what Susan is to me.”

Willis leaned back in the wrought iron chair and fastened his gaze on his friend. “Are you aware that this is way out of character for you? You always plot every step you take. With Verna being one strange exception, you've always ordered your life with the same precision you put into your designs for buildings.”

“I'm not losing sleep over it, and neither should you. When can you start?”

“I'd like to see the place today.”

Lucas took a pocket watch from his shirt pocket, and opened it.

“Man, you still have that watch?” Willis asked him.

“I hope I'll always have it. My maternal grandfather gave it to me when I was about nine. Next to my mother, he was everything to me.” Lucas dialed Susan's number.

“You calling her now? It's only seven-thirty, and not everybody gets up at the crack of dawn as you do.”

“Hello?”

“Good morning, Susan. This is Lucas Hamilton. Willis Carter, the contractor, wants to speak with you.” He could hardly resist snickering at the expression of disbelief on Willis's face.

Willis took the phone. “Good morning, Ms. Pettiford. I've looked at the plans for your shop, and I'd like to see the space today, if possible.” He listened for a bit. “Yes, I like the plans. Eleven o'clock is good. I'll meet you there. Till then.” He hung up. “Hmmm. She's as business-like as you are. Well, thanks for the best breakfast I've had since the last time you cooked it. I'll call you later and let you know what I think.”

“Okay, but come to terms with her, will you? Even if you have to bend a little bit.”

Willis raised an eyebrow and then showed his white teeth in a grin. “For that, I'll let you wash the dishes. I have to study this thing before I meet her. Ms. Pettiford must be one hell of a sister.”

She is,
Lucas thought.
Is she ever!

Remembering that he had promised to install a microwave oven above the stove in his mother's kitchen to give her more counter space, Lucas phoned her. “I can install that microwave oven this evening, if you'd like, Mama. Tomorrow, I'll be at the school, so I'd rather do it today.”

“That's wonderful. I'll fix you a nice supper.”

“I could take you out to dinner.”

“When did you last have a great home-cooked meal?”

He couldn't tell her about that, so he agreed to eating supper at her table, not that he minded one bit, because she was a good cook by anyone's standards. “All right. I'll be there around five-thirty.”

By five o'clock, the weather had cooled, so he put on a three-quarter leather coat lined with sheared lamb, a pair of jeans, and a heavy plaid shirt. In spite of his thirty-five years, Noreen Hamilton hadn't ceased to worry that he might catch cold. He entered the modern house that he designed and built for her and was rewarded with his mother's happy smiles and hugs.

“What're you cooking?” he asked her, sniffing repeatedly.

“Roast pork, candied sweets and collards. Maybe some corn bread.”

“Works for me,” he said, pulling off his coat. He installed the microwave oven quickly. “Anything else you want me to do?”

“No. You thought of everything when you designed it, and since you pay for a cleaning woman and a man who takes care of the lawn, most of the time, I don't have anything to do except hold my hands and watch TV.”

He looked around the kitchen where he perched on a stool. “It's rather big for one person. I'd have thought you'd want someone to live with you.”

She wiped her hands on her apron and stared at him. “Such as who? I don't need anybody to make my life miserable. If you're talking about a man, I've told you a hundred times to forget about that. When it comes to men, I've had the best education in the world, and I don't need any further training.”

He remained silent for so long that she walked over to him and asked, “What's the matter, son?”

“Mama, I don't want to ruin the evening for us. It isn't often that I eat here with you, so I'm . . . I'd like to drop this. But I have to tell you that I have so many strong feelings around this subject.”

“I know.” She went back to the stove. “But I did the best I could.”

She didn't, and they both knew it. He changed the subject. “I'm thinking of acquiring that land across the river from Pine Tree Park. I'd like to see an upscale retirement village complete with a recreation center and medical facilities.”

“Be careful that you don't overstretch yourself. You don't have to make fifty cents off every dollar earned in this county.”

“No, but by the time I'm fifty, I intend to be worth more, to be more influential and to have more power than Calvin Jackson ever had. I'll show him.”

She didn't respond, as he'd known she wouldn't. He suspected that after thirty-five years, she still loved his father. She had denied Calvin Jackson all parental rights, had never let him see his only son and had not accepted one penny for Lucas's care and schooling. But in Lucas's view, the greater injustice was not to the father, but to the son, and although he loved his mother, he resented her for keeping him from his father.

She shook her head from side to side while she sliced the sweet potatoes. “What is it, Mom?”

“I know what you're thinking. I used to tell myself that when you were older—grown, I mean—I could make you understand, but I know you can't accept what I did. We can't change it now, Son, so please let it go.”