He sighed, either at the change of subject or his surroundings. He was probably stuck in the basement or perched on a ladder in the attic, because electrical wires were never housed in the pretty parts of a building.
“Wait until you see it. All the old woodwork is restored and the wiring is original—1928 knob-and-tube. I saved you a couple of the porcelain knobs. They’ve got the Benjamin Company stamp right on them.”
“That’s great. We can build something with them together.”
“I bet you didn’t call to discuss knob-and-tube.”
“Not that I’m not interested, but, no, I didn’t. I called to say I’m thinking of a change.”
“A change.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of disbelief. “And what are you planning to change?”
“Hey. I change stuff.”
“When? What?” Now he was chuckling.
I blew out a breath. This was not going as anticipated . . . So I’d had the same hairstyle since I was seven. I lived in the same apartment I found upon graduation from college, even though I could afford something far better, with a view instead of sitting on a highway. I worked off the same grocery list each week.
“I didn’t know I was so pathetic.”
“Hey, Peanut. I didn’t say that. What’s going on here? It’s not that you don’t change things, you simply go with prevailing winds.”
Prevailing winds?
Worse and worse . . . My dad hadn’t called me Peanut since my growth spurt in eighth grade shot me from the twenty-fifth percentile in height to the ninety-fifth in six months. Now I’d gotten it several times in as many days. And second, I really was the embodiment of the gloomy page in the center of the bright Oh, the Places You’ll Go! book. Here was the proof.
“Then it’s a brand-new me, Dad. You know that company from Boston? I just sent them an e-mail saying I’m interested. They’re working on the next generation of non-lithium dissolving batteries for use in humans.”
“I . . . What’s going on? You love your job. This feels sudden.”
“It’s just a job. This company has been after me for a couple years.”
“But you never said you were interested; you never said you’re unhappy at WATT. That’s a big move.”
“But now you’ve got the business up—” I stopped. “I’m ready for something new.”
“Of course you want your own life. I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t mean that.” I dropped my head in my hands. I hadn’t meant to say that; I wasn’t sure I even felt it. I just knew getting pushed out hurt, and I felt pushed on more sides than I knew existed within me—and I’d just spread around the pain. “Please, Dad, that isn’t why I’m looking for a change at all. I’m just excited about it, about doing something new and different.”
I heard a snuffle and a scrape. He was kneading his palm against his chin. I’d seen the gesture for years.
“If that’s the case, I’m happy for you and I’m proud of you. Boston’s a long way from home, though.”
“That’s the downside.” I felt the urge to see him. Hug him. “Are you free for dinner Saturday?”
“I thought you are in England until the twenty-eighth.”
I tapped my computer to look up flights and noted movement in my periphery. Gertrude stood in the doorway, dressed in blue silk, candles in hand. I held a finger to her to wait. “As you know, this trip has taken some unexpected turns.” I tried to laugh to lighten the moment. It didn’t work. “I’m looking into flights for tomorrow.”
“You’re leaving Isabel?”
“I’ll talk to her tonight. If Dr. Milton hasn’t told her to come straight home, I wouldn’t be surprised if she wants to stay a few more days.”
“Then she’ll need you.”
“For once, Dad, she won’t. She’s fine; I promise. Better than you’ve seen her in years. One look at her and you’d understand. I think we’re both better off now.”
“Okay. She does sound good.” I could sense he was trying to work himself into comfortable. “I love you and I’m happy about all this if you are. We’ll talk Saturday?”
Again, another thing rarely said around my house. I felt love from him every day of my life, but the words never came easily to anyone in my family. They were all men. “Yes, and I love you too, Dad.”
I tapped my phone to end the call and looked back to Gertrude.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, or interrupt.” She held out the candles.
“You didn’t. I’m the one hiding in your canning room.” I held up my phone. “I’m hoping to leave tomorrow.”
“I heard.”
“I’ve got some issues at work to deal with and . . .” I looked to the ceiling. “I heard laughter earlier. Isabel will be fine without me, if she stays.”
“Your friend is delightful. She is more welcoming than she was your first night here.”
“I think time away has done her some good.”
“Just like the play in the middle of Mansfield Park. Within role play, we find ourselves.” She shifted the candles in her arms. “I think that’s the true attraction to places like this, as long as you don’t stay too long.”
“You should share that with Isabel.”
“I suspect she already knows.” She nodded to her candles. “I had better get these upstairs. Let me know what time you’re leaving and I’ll arrange a car.”
Chapter 25
I woke to soft gray light. Heavy-cloud-cover light. There were no dresses strewn on the floor and Isabel was not already off on an adventure. I looked over to find dark curls spilling across her pillow and blue eyes fixed on me.
“Hello.” I crushed my pillow beneath me.
“I woke up a few minutes ago.” Isabel pushed herself upright. “Are you sure about all this?”
Late in the night I’d told her my plans. We stayed up until the black had shifted to gray outside the windows talking about all that had gone on—here, at home, and through the years.
She and Grant had gone for another long walk after ours and, upon recounting it, I let her quote one more line. She was bursting with excitement over its “perfect application.”
She’d actually held her hand to her heart while delivering it. “‘Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure . . . but where, as in this case, though the conduct is mistaken, the feelings are not . . . He could not impute to me a more relenting heart than I possessed, or a heart more disposed to accept his.’”
I had flopped back on my bed and moaned. “That’s all you’re going to tell me?”
She had perched on her elbows above me with a grin. “One more thing . . . That man can kiss.”
She also told me that Dr. Milton had agreed to daily calls and she planned to stay a few more days. Also, Nathan had spent most of the night searching for me. He had knocked on our bedroom door six times. I almost felt guilty for hiding until two a.m. in the canning room—almost.
I’d told her about our walk to Bath, about overhearing his call, and about my plans to move.
Are you sure about all this? I let her present question drift through me. “No.”
“Then send another e-mail.”
That was another thing I’d told her. In my haste, I’d sent Craig an e-mail resigning. Isabel’s shock had confirmed it hadn’t been my wisest move.