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A FEW DAYS LATER, I found myself in the bedroom Timothy wanted ready as soon as possible. It needed minimal work, thankfully, which meant we could keep him happy by getting it ready within the next week. He had been checking in pretty regularly. I felt more pressure than ever to get it right. This would be the first room completed. If he didn’t like what we did in here, he could fire us. I wouldn’t get the chance to see it to completion.
I was on my hands and knees, mending some tiles in the bathroom when I heard the door creak open. I assumed it was one of the workers. “In here,” I called out.
I placed the tile onto the mortar and quickly wiped away any extra gunk.
“It’s coming along nicely,” Timothy said.
I jerked my head around, realizing my ass was on full display. He had an amused smile on his face. I quickly sat back, kneeling while looking up at him. I was certain my face was beet red. It felt red. He had been away in the city for the past couple of days. I wasn’t aware he was going to be back today.
“It’s ready to be used,” I told him.
I got to my feet, wiping my hands on my jeans that were already stained with mortar and grout.
“Is it?” he asked with surprise.
“I’m just finishing some tile work in here,” I said. “The plumbers will be up to do the finishing touches in the shower, but everything is all good. We’ve leak-tested it and there are no problems. The bedroom is finished.”
I led him into the large space, proud of the trim that had been carefully sanded and refinished without taking away from the original structure. The floor had been refinished and waxed. The windows were sealed and the door hinges were oiled. We even found a doorknob on eBay and had it overnighted. It was gorgeous. I hoped he could see the beauty in the originality, even if it was a little dark and not typical of today’s style.
He let out a low whistle, his eyes scanning the room appreciatively. “It looks remarkable,” he said, slowly turning to face me. His gaze was filled with awe and perhaps something more.
My heart fluttered in my chest as I watched him. He stood there, radiating an air of quiet confidence that made me feel warm and fuzzy. I wasn’t sure if it was the praise for my work or his intense gaze that was causing the rapid beating of my heart.
“Thank you,” I said, feeling a warmth spread through me at his approval. “I wanted to preserve as much of the original details as we could.”
He walked closer to the molding around the window. “Look at this,” he said, tracing his fingers over the intricate woodwork. “This is incredible. Is this the same molding?”
I watched him, captivated by how his voice changed as he admired the work. It was clear that his family history held a special place in his heart.
“It is,” I said, nodding. “It just needed some very minor repairs. I sanded it and stained it.”
“This is why I hired you,” he said, turning to face me again. His eyes were softer now. “You have a knack for preserving the original beauty of things without losing their character.”
His words sent a pleasant jolt through me. The recognition, the praise from him? It filled me with a sense of achievement I hadn’t felt in a long while.
“I’m glad you’re happy with it,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I felt a strange tightness in my chest.
Timothy walked over to the massive bed we had decided to keep. It was an antique four-poster bed that looked like something out of a period drama. He ran his fingers over the polished wood, a nostalgic smile on his face. “You restored this as well.”
“I thought it was too beautiful to move to a room that won’t be used. Obviously, that’s not my choice, but if you choose to keep it for your daughter’s bed, it’s ready.”
“I like it,” he said, nodding. “You’ve done well.”
“Have you had a chance to see the lower floor?” I asked.
“Not yet.”
“The crew have been focused on the kitchen,” I told him. “I assumed a functional kitchen was a must with a kid in the house. They’re making good time with the modernization in there.”
“Good,” he said, nodding.
“I found a skilled stone mason to start the repairs on the stonework, both inside and outside,” I told him. “He’s an expert in the old ways. He should be able to keep the original character but make it safe and structurally sound.”
“I trust your judgment,” he said. “You have a good eye for these kinds of things.”
I felt my cheeks heat up once again at his praise. His confidence in my skills was heartening. I took a deep breath and looked at him, feeling like we were on the same page for this project more than ever before.
“I’ll show you the kitchen then?” I asked.
As we walked down the hall, he pointed to more of the crown molding. “What about all of this?”
“I will personally be handling all of that,” I told him. “My dad will be helping with that part. He’s very good at what he does. He taught me everything I know.”
“I met your dad,” he said.
“He mentioned that,” I said, smiling.
“Did he train you or did you have to go to a trade school to learn your craft?”
“I’m a journeyman carpenter,” I told him. “My dad taught me, but I’ve also got the official certificates and all of that. That’s only so I can be licensed and bonded under the business name.”
“Your dad mentioned you were one of the sons,” he quipped.
I laughed. “My dad didn’t have sons. So, I’m the son in Jacobson and Sons now.”
His laughter echoed through the hall, his gaze softening as he looked at me. “Your dad must be proud of you,” he said.
“I hope so,” I replied.
“He seemed surprised you bid for this job and got it,” he said.
I smiled. “Yeah, when I first broached the topic, he was against it. He thought it was too big, but I knew we could handle it. And I know we’re the best for the job. I’m not just saying that. We are the best. My dad is an expert at restoring old wood.”
“I believe it,” he said, nodding.
I led him into the kitchen, where he marveled at the updates we’d made while still preserving the original stone wall and wood beam ceiling. The new appliances blended seamlessly with the rustic decor, and I could see the approval in his eyes.
“This is amazing,” he said, running his hand over the smooth granite countertop. “Modern yet traditional. Exactly what I was hoping for.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“I wasn’t sure I would like the granite,” he said. “I thought it was too modern, but it works in here.”
I smiled, agreeing with him. “It does. Unfortunately, as much as we want to keep it all original, the kitchen is just one of those spaces that needs to be modern in order to be functional. The electricians have rewired things and made sure there are plenty of outlets as well.”
“Great. I like it. I’ll leave you to it. I have some work to do in my office. I appreciate the updates and it looks like things are moving along well.”
After Timothy left me to my work, I found myself wandering back up to the second floor. I made mental notes about the intricate details that would require attention. The landing and railing bore the scars of time, signaling the need for a delicate restoration. On the brighter side, the wooden columns lining the corridor seemed salvageable with a thorough refinishing.
As I roamed the hall, my gaze fell upon a set of original wooden doors that called to me. I had been in the house for a week but still had not managed to explore every room. I was too busy directing the contractors downstairs. I was curious to see what was behind the door. After all, I would need to remove the doors eventually to refinish them.
I opened one door and stumbled onto a sight that left me breathless. It was a library. It hadn’t been part of my initial tour, which was surprising considering the amount of wood shelves and other woodwork in the room.
I stepped inside and inhaled. The scent of aged paper and wood enveloped me. It always gave me a little chill. Before I could immerse myself in inspecting the shelving and the molding, my phone rang. I glanced down and saw it was Amber.
“Hey,” I answered. “What’s up?”
“Let’s get dinner tonight,” she said. “My treat. How about Mexican?”
“Sounds good to me,” I said. “I can’t wait to talk about the design for this place. It’s going to blow your mind.”
“I can’t wait,” she said. “I’ll see you at six.”
After work, I went home to shower before heading to our favorite Mexican restaurant for dinner. Amber was a talented, successful interior designer. I was itching to explore a potential collaboration, envisioning the magic we could create together.
“I think he’s going to be open to anything you present,” I told her around a mouthful of homemade tortilla chips and spicy salsa. “I doubt he’ll object to most of your ideas.”
“I’ve been brainstorming all day and have a few concepts in mind.”
We spent the next couple of hours immersed in discussion about the project, exploring different design paths for lighting fixtures and wallpaper patterns. Yet, somehow our conversation always circled back to the man behind the project.
“He seems perpetually grouchy,” I said. “Whenever he smiles, it’s like he realizes he’s smiling and he quickly replaces it with a frown. Whenever he’s there, he’s always in his office with the doors closed. When he comes out, he looks like he’s been sucking on lemons.”
“He’s a wealthy dude,” she said, shrugging. “I’m pretty sure all they think about is money and more money.”
“Do you think he ever has any fun?” I sipped my Corona as I pondered the mystery that was Timothy Hastings.
Amber leaned in, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “I might have done a little snooping,” she whispered.
“What do you mean?”
“I wanted to know who you were working for,” she replied. “Who I might be working for. I was curious as to why this guy has shown up in town and decided to restore the family home. There’s always something juicy going on with these rich people.”
“What did you find out?”
“Girl, you won the lottery with this project. Timothy Hastings is not just some local big shot. He’s a billionaire. A million dollars to him is a drop in the bucket. You could probably get him to spend a lot more.”
“I’m not trying to milk him for money,” I said. “But I’m glad there is money available to do this right.”
“Did you know he is responsible for his family’s money?”
“How can that be?” I asked. “They’ve always been rich.”
“They used to be rich, but they were slipping. Timothy came in and turned things around. Now, he’s super rich, like he’s regularly in the top ten richest people in the world.”
I wasn’t really concerned with the size of his bank account. “I guess that’s why he spends so much time in his office,” I mused aloud. “Managing that kind of money must take a lot of energy.”
“And he had a really messy and very public divorce from a well-known socialite,” she went on. “It got really ugly. There were rumors but neither of them has ever publicly said anything about the divorce.”
“That’s good,” I said, nodding.
“And he used to be a bit of a partier, a bad boy even,” Amber added with a grin. “He was very naughty.”
“It’s hard to imagine that, given the man I’ve met,” I muttered. “I wonder why he left the city behind for Sleepy Hollow. If he’s used to bright lights, big cities, and bigger parties, I would imagine he’s going to be awfully bored here.”
“Maybe he just wanted a change of pace,” Amber suggested. “Or maybe there’s a deeper story waiting to be revealed.”
