Summer Storms (Seasons of Faith Book 1) Read online

  Oppressive heat rolled over Michelle as she pushed through the glass doors of the Charles Schwab lobby. She moved as quickly as her pencil skirt and two-inch heels would allow and arrived at the pizzeria in less than ten minutes. A quick survey of the restaurant showed Jeffrey had not arrived so she chose a table near the door. A young waiter delivered a tall glass of water and she drank greedily.

  The door opened, letting in the bright sun and blinding her. When her vision returned, Jeffrey was walking toward the table, hands in the pockets of his black pants. His hair was gelled into place and a deep red shirt brought out gold flecks in his brown eyes.

  “Hope you haven’t been waiting long,” Jeffrey greeted her, taking a seat across the small table.

  “Just sat down.”

  “I had a couple of meetings this morning and I was afraid I was running late.” Jeffrey reached for one of the menus and his fingers brushed her hand. Michelle felt her heart flutter at his touch.

  “You know in ten years of working downtown I’ve never eaten here.” Michelle mused looking at the place for the first time.

  “They have the best pizza.”

  “I usually bring my lunch and eat at my desk. It’s nice to get out of the office for a change.”

  “I’m surprised you don’t go out with your girl friends. There are so many great places down here. That has to be one of the best perks of working downtown.”

  Michelle shrugged. “Being out with them the other night was a fluke. I knew Wendy would enjoy the show, but Amanda overheard and invited herself along. She showed up with the other girls.”

  “You mean you and Amanda aren’t best friends?” Jeffrey laughed.

  Michelle grimaced at the thought. “I can barely stand working with her. I don’t know if you noticed, but she gets what she wants and makes sure we all know it.”

  “Yeah, I got that impression. Women aren’t supposed to be that aggressive, it creeps me out.”

  Michelle giggled and buried her head in the menu. “Do you want to split a pizza or do you like strange things on yours?”

  “We can split as long as there are no anchovies.” The waiter arrived and they ordered a medium pie with barbeque chicken and pineapple.

  “I’m glad you don’t consider that strange.” Jeffrey smiled at her and she felt the flutter again. “Tell me more about your band. You’ve only been together a few months, but you sounded pretty good. How often do you practice?”

  “Not enough, usually twice a week. We play the same set every weekend. I keep telling them if we had more variety we might be able to get better gigs, but Tina says she doesn’t have time to learn any new songs.”

  “I can’t believe she doesn’t get bored.”

  “Tina doesn’t have the same passion as the rest of us. I don’t know Jonesy very well, but he and Tina go way back. He’s even started telling her we need to change things up. Maybe she will listen to him.”

  Their pizza arrived and Jeffrey served Michelle the first slice.

  “Such a gentleman,” she teased. “How did you get into construction? Were you one of those kids who was always building things?”

  Jeffrey swallowed his pizza, washing it down with water. “Yeah, blocks and Legos were my favorite toys. I could spend hours creating cities out of them. My family has been in real estate for generations so I was exposed to a broad variety of architectural styles. As I got older I tried to draw my own plans, but I never could get the dimensions right so I focused more on the engineering of structures.”

  “Do you enjoy what you are doing?”

  “Sure,” Jeffrey replied.

  “You don’t sound convincing.”

  “I have a great job, I know that, but I do wish I had the time to be more hands on. I spend most of my day in an office pushing paper, meeting with vendors, and putting out fires. Sometimes I think it would have been better if I had remained a worker bee.”

  “How long have you been in management?” Michele asked wiping sauce from her cheek.

  “Three years next month. This is my first major project on my own. The bosses keep me on a tight leash, though and I report to them at least once a week.”

  “Seems like a pretty big job for your first solo venture, impressive.” Michelle offered him an encouraging smile.

  “Guess I have a gift for climbing the corporate ladder.” Jeffrey responded.

  “Getting ahead in business is a good thing. Why do you sound like it is a death sentence?” Michelle studied his face as he contemplated his answer. Small creases appeared on his forehead and his gaze remained glued to the red and white checked tablecloth.

  “You’re right, sometimes I just don’t know how much of my success is based on my work and how much is based on my name. In this business there aren’t many people who don’t know the Robbins name and the weight behind it.”

  “Wait, are you related to Allister Robbins, the tycoon who owns most of the commercial real estate in the tri-county region?” Michelle’s eyes grew wide.

  Jeffrey nodded. “My grandfather. What he didn’t inherit he amassed over fifty years. Like I said, it’s hard to find people who don’t know my family.”

  “Sure, but there must be hundreds of people with the same last name that aren’t related to him. You could easily be one of those, how can anyone know unless you tell them?”

  Jeffrey laughed. “You obviously don’t know how it works. When your family is as well known as mine, the details of your life are public knowledge. More people know my birthday and marital status than I care to consider. Whenever a story runs about my grandfather, our whole family is put on display. It is quite a scandal that I haven’t gone into the family business.”

  “Everyone has the right to choose their own path, but out of curiosity, why didn’t you go into the family business?”

  “I tried it for a little while, it just didn’t take.”

  “Do you think you will ever change your mind about it?”

  Jeffrey shook his head before taking the last bite of his pizza. Michelle sensed the topic was not up for discussion.

  “You seem to have good taste in music, who else do you listen to besides My Hotel Year?” Michelle caught a look of relief flit across Jeffrey’s face as she navigated the conversation into more neutral territory.

  “Alternative or punk stuff, Dashboard Confessional, The Starting Line, Buffalo Tom. As long as it isn’t that bubble gum pop crap that is so popular these days I’m happy.”

  Michelle laughed. “You would hate working in my office then. Amanda plays nothing but bubble gum pop all day and it is so loud we all hear it. Thank goodness for headphones.”

  “Why do you keep telling me these things? Are you trying to make me fall in love with her?”

  Michelle liked his sarcastic humor. “Do you have any plans this weekend?”

  “Not much. What did you have in mind?”

  “There’s a new band playing at The Social Saturday night. I’m going to check them out after we finish at the Loaded Hog, you want to tag along?”

  “Sure, look for me when you finish playing.” Jeffrey’s cell phone rang. “Excuse me,” Jeffrey picked up the phone

  “Hello?” He listened for several minutes before hanging up. “I hate to run, but something has come up at work.” He pulled his wallet from his pocket and laid several bills on the table. “See you Saturday.”

  Before Michelle could respond, Jeffrey was out the door.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The week went by faster than Lizzie had anticipated. Early Saturday morning she woke excited to get started on the house. During the week, she had made several more trips to Restore as well as Home Depot and Lowes, created lists of projects in order of importance, and collected questions for the next time she saw Jeffrey. She pulled into the driveway and waved to Mae as she crossed the street.

  Lizzie alighted the front porch steps and settled herself in the extra rocker taking a visual inventory of her neighbor. Mae’s hands, resting on the chair
arms, looked cramped, her eyes were haggard, her face pale.

  “Good morning, dear,” Mae greeted her.

  “Are you feeling okay?”

  “I’m fine, don’t worry about me. My arthritis is acting up. Must have snapped too many beans last night. Avery and his wife, Amy, are coming for dinner tonight.”

  “How nice.” They sat in silence for a few moments enjoying the morning. Several birds chirped in a nearby tree, and a door slammed shut down the street as a pair of children ran outside laughing.

  “Will you be working on the house today?” Mae asked.

  Lizzie nodded. “I have some friends bringing a pressure washer so I can get the exterior ready for paint. Thought I would try to make it less of an eyesore for the neighborhood.”

  Mae smiled. “What color are you painting it?”

  “A buttery yellow. I’ve always thought that was such a welcoming color.” Lizzie saw Emma and Ron’s car turn onto Washington and stood up. “There’s my work crew. See you later.”

  Ron unfolded himself from the small car and greeted Lizzie with his infectious smile. “Morning.”

  “I’m so glad you had one of these contraptions.” Lizzie waved toward the pressure washer Ron was pulling from the trunk. “Maybe we can get the place cleaned up and start painting this afternoon.”

  “Emma said you girls were going to wash down the interior walls while I worked out here. I imagine they will need a good cleaning before you can paint in there.”

  “Yep, I have the buckets in my car.”

  “Well let’s get moving, child.” Emma’s southern twang came through as she shooed Lizzie toward the house. They unloaded the cars and the women headed inside. Soon they heard the hum of the pressure washer then the splashing of high-powered water hitting the concrete walls.

  Lizzie squeezed her wet cloth and tackled the wall closest to the front door. Five minutes later she dipped the rag into the bucket again, astounded by the change in the color of the water. What had been fresh and clear was now brown and dingy, and she had only washed a few feet. Emma laughed when she looked over and caught sight of Lizzie’s disgusted face.

  “You didn’t think this was going to be pretty did you?”

  “Thinking about it and seeing it are two different things.” Lizzie held the cloth between her thumb and index finger watching filthy water run off the end, splashing into the bucket. “Maybe I need to get my gloves out again.”

  “Pshaw! A little dirt ain’t going to hurt you.” Emma laughed, watching Lizzie crinkle her nose and squeeze the rag before returning to her work.

  “Oh, I forgot, Ron put our boom box in the car. Let me run get it.” Emma tossed her cloth into a bucket, splashing Lizzie’s legs, and disappeared out the front door. Lizzie worked on, dirt and dust disappearing under her touch. A pale outline caught her attention and she paused, moving closer. The lines disappeared into a dark section below her elbows. With exquisite care, she moved the cloth over the area, fascinated as a faint picture emerged. Surprised by the discovery Lizzie’s hands dropped to her sides, eyes wide. Emma retuned to find her friend motionless, staring at the wall.

  “It won’t get clean just staring at it,” Emma teased.

  “Look,” Lizzie pointed. “There’s something drawn on here.” Emma moved closer to examine the light marks.

  “Well I’ll be, there is something there. You know that reminds me of Under the Tuscan Sun.” Emma laughed at Lizzie’s puzzled expression. “Don’t tell me you haven’t read the book or seen the movie. It’s about this woman who buys a run down house in Tuscany and while she’s renovating it she finds a mural on one of the walls. You should read the book while you’re doing all this work. Might give you some ideas even. I’ll bring it over tomorrow.”

  “Wonder what this drawing is of and who did it.”

  “Only way to find out is to keep scrubbing.” Emma nudged her friend and returned to setting up the boom box. Lizzie gazed at the wall a moment longer, her imagination filling in the rest of the picture. With a sigh she raised her hands and returned to scrubbing, using a lighter touch in hopes of maintaining the art.

  By the time the women completed the living room area, two more rough drawings had emerged from the grime, all between two to four feet from the floor. Lizzie guessed they were the work of a child, and each indicated increasing talent.

  “What kind of parent allows their kids to draw on the walls?” Lizzie mused.

  “They must have been pretty free spirited.” Emma remarked. “I can’t see myself or Ron allowing it. Doesn’t seem to teach much respect.”

  “Somehow I feel bad painting over them. I feel like I would be erasing someone’s memories.”

  “This is your home now. You need to make your own memories.”

  Lizzie nodded. The hum of the pressure washer stopped and Ron emerged from the backyard a moment later.

  “Are you girls just going to sit there or are we going to get some lunch? I’m starving.”

  Emma stood, laughing. “When are you not hungry?” She gave Ron a loving smile and moved toward him. He encircled her in muscular arms.

  Lizzie looked on, envious of the deep affection the couple had for each other. An image of her parents flashed in her mind, a party for her mom’s fortieth birthday. Her father stood behind, arms wrapped around her just after she had blown out the candles on her cake. She craned her neck and he leaned down to kiss her.

  “Lizzie, are you coming?” Emma touched her shoulder. Lizzie’s head snapped up.

  “What?”

  “We’re going to run to McDonalds to get some lunch, do you want to come?”

  “Sure,” Lizzie said, the memory of her parents still lingering.

  “You okay?” Emma asked eyeing Lizzie with concern.

  Lizzie managed a thin smile. “Fine, my mind just went somewhere else.” She stood and brushed her pants. “Who’s driving?”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Lizzie walked through the empty rooms impressed by how much they had accomplished in one day. All but one bedroom was washed, the scent of soap lingering in the air. The bare bulbs cast a harsh yellow light, illuminating the deep corners. She took one last turn through the house dousing the lights as she went. In the living room, she paused, the drawings catching her attention. Closing her eyes Lizzie tried to picture the family that had lived here. She saw the image of a little girl, seven or eight years old with long blond hair in a ponytail, her brow furrowed as she focused on the limbs of the large tree she was drawing. A frazzled young mother walked in from the back of the house and threw up her hands in dismay at the sight of the child.

  “Hello?” A male voice calling from the front porch jerked Lizzie back to reality.

  “Yes,” she said as Jeffrey’s head appeared around the door.

  “I’m glad I caught you here. Good news, I found a floor guy.” He turned and waved to someone outside. Another man, slim, athletic, with thick black hair and eyes the color of sapphires, stepped into the bare living room. “Lizzie, I’d like you to meet Ian,” Jeffrey said with a Vanna White flourish.

  Lizzie stumbled forward to shake Ian’s extended hand. “Nice to meet you, Ian.”

  “The pleasure is all mine.” Ian gave her hand a light squeeze before letting go. His gaze shifted to the floors as he started walking around, scuffing his feet in several spots. “Based on the description Jeffrey gave me I expected them to be worse. The small areas of damage are an easy job. Do the other rooms need repairs as well?”

  “None of them are as obvious as these spots, but you are welcome to take a look and give me your professional opinion.” The trio strolled through the house, pausing in each room long enough for Ian to make an inspection.

  “This is a great place,” Ian remarked upon returning to the living room. “There’s so much that can be done with it.”

  “I didn’t see it that way at first,” Lizzie admitted, “but after a little work it’s starting to show promise.”

  “If you don
’t mind me working on this as a side to my regular job, then I should be able to have the floors cleaned up in a week.”

  “How much is this going to cost?” Although excited to get started, she knew she had to be practical.

  “Between $500 to $700. I’ll need to do some measuring for the exact amount of replacement boards I’ll need.”

  “Measure away then,” Lizzie’s spirits soared. Jeffrey pulled a tape measure from his back pocket shooting Lizzie a grin.

  “Didn’t figure you had one of your own yet,” Jeffrey said with a grin.

  “Actually I do, I just keep forgetting to bring it over.” Lizzie and Jeffrey moved out to the porch while Ian took his measurements. “I was getting a little worried when you didn’t call this week. Thought I might have to do the floors myself, and I can assure you that wouldn’t be pretty.”

  “I meant to call,” Jeffrey apologized, “but I had a hard time finding someone. Ian and I knew each other several years ago, but we fell out of touch. I just ran into him this afternoon.”

  Lizzie smiled, raised her eyes to the sky, and offered silent thanks for God’s provision. “What a nice coincidence,” she said.

  “I’m surprised you’re here so late. It is Saturday night after all.” His tone was teasing. Lizzie shrugged.

  “This is about all the fun I can handle right now.” Her serious tone caused Jeffrey to laugh.

  “When are you moving in?”

  “If Ian can complete the floors in a week, then I guess I’ll start moving the following weekend.”

  Jeffrey looked skeptical. “There’s still a lot of work to be done.”

  “I know, finding appliances is certainly high on the list.” Lizzie laughed. “We have a big group coming into the hotel and I am hoping to get some good tips. Appliances will most likely drain my savings.”

  “I noticed the walls looked cleaner. Did you do those drawings in the living room?”

  Lizzie shook her head. “They were underneath all the dirt. Weird isn’t it? I kind of feel bad painting over them.”