Chapter Two
The first meeting of the town/university urban garden task force was scheduled for the Friday of the second full week in January. Spence made sure he gave himself plenty of time to arrive early. He wanted to see Bree’s face when she walked in and saw him waiting.
He knew she was aware that he would be on the task force. All the names had been listed. So there wouldn’t be any surprise, which was kind of a bummer, since he couldn’t think of any time in the years he’d known her when Bree Elias had been caught off her game. But even if she had her guard up, which she probably would, she was going to have to show some kind of reaction. Even if it was the world’s best poker face, her expression would tell him something. So yeah. He wanted to be in a position to see everything.
He navigated the idiocy of parking a car on campus, barely resisting the urge to ask the attendant why they didn’t just demand that he hand over his passport, wallet, and all his worldly goods, and found the meeting room easily enough for someone who hadn’t gone to school here. Unlike most Calypso Falls kids, who either went to Syracuse, Rochester, or somewhere in the northeast, Spence had headed west. University of Michigan. Go, Blue. He’d loved it there.
Someday, he might go back.
It hadn’t been convenient, and it had made trips home complicated, but those issues worked in his favor when it came time to leave. It meant that there was no one from town who would know the facts. He could and did offer up whatever explanation he chose to the folks back home. And if he wanted to spin a tale that made it appear his parents had left to give him a second chance—a story that would enable them to save face—well—it was a hell of a lot easier when everyone who knew the truth was in Ann Arbor.
He’d done what he could to cover his tracks there, too, just in case. He told his roomies the story he told everyone else—drugs, plea bargain with the authorities, student conduct board recommended he take an extended leave of absence. It kind of scared him that so many folks were willing to believe him. But then, he knew he wouldn’t be the first kid to head to school and lose his way. It was almost a rite of passage.
After the first months, he found he didn’t miss university so much. It felt kind of good to do something productive with his days—bringing life out of the ground and back into the business that his father had been too distracted to keep running at full tilt. But now, walking the paths that crisscrossed the DeMotte quad, he did allow a moment of nostalgia to slip in.
How would life have been different if he’d stayed in school?
Most of the time, he didn’t really think about it. He made a good living, he kept a decent number of other people employed, and he made the world a prettier, neater kind of place. There weren’t a lot of jobs that made that possible, and much as he had never expected it to matter, it gave Spence a quiet satisfaction to drive past a house or a park that showed the fruits of his team’s labors.
But sometimes, yeah, he wondered. And when he was getting ready to head into a meeting with Rob Elias’s brainiac daughter, then the wonder machine was cranked a little higher.
He chose the chair with the best view of the door, nodding to other members of the group as they arrived. He knew a couple of them. Keenan Parker had been the high school principal back when Spence attended. Mercy Rodrigues was a long-retired accountant who, at one point, lived two doors down from Spence and his family.
And then there was Fred Gettman. Fred was another representative from the university, from the Community Engagement office. But Spence knew him thanks to both of their being part of the community group that was trying to block Rob Elias’s plans to start a prisoner-support organization here in Calypso Falls.
Spence didn’t care if Rob started the group or not. He thought it was kind of ironic, all things considered, but on the whole, it didn’t matter to him. What Spence cared about was where Rob decided to set up shop. That was the stick in his craw. Rob belonged in Calypso Falls as much as Spence belonged in the priesthood.
His sour thoughts were hijacked by the long-awaited sight of Bree’s arrival.
He’d expected her to scurry in with eyes down and an armful of books, especially as she arrived barely a minute before they were slated to start. But no. She walked into the room with unhurried grace, her head high, a slim briefcase swinging from her hand. While the other women in the room wore pants—no doubt due to the January temperatures—Bree was in a skirt, one that fit close all the way to her knees. A tan cardigan sweater over a cream-colored blouse . . . long auburn hair that was pulled back, giving the world a clear view of the pearls in her ears . . . square silver glasses halfway down her nose . . .
She was either on her way to a costume party or she had the worst case of Repressed Librarian disorder that he had ever seen.
Except—no. The clothing might be reserved but there was nothing shy about her attitude. She paused at the end of the table, surveying the open seats. Her gaze lingered on each person. Some got a polite smile. Some got what he suspected was the real thing, given the way her eyes lit up incrementally.
Spence got a cool, assessing glance, followed by a nod.
He’d only had to sit through Frozen once—thank God, his nephew hadn’t been into it, and his niece had been past the prime age for it—and he’d spent a good chunk of the viewing time indulging in a much needed nap, so what memories he had were a bit fuzzy. But Spence was pretty sure that the sister who could shoot ice jets from her fingers was capable of more warmth than Bree Elias.
It was a marked contrast to how she’d looked the last time he’d really seen her, with her eyes snapping and her face flushed while she ripped him a new one.
Well.
Time sure brought changes.
Her decision obviously made, she turned to head for the far end of the table. That was good, he decided. It would make it easier to watch her.
Except that when she walked briskly away, he saw that the back of her skirt had some kind of slit. One that went a good halfway up the backs of her thighs. So the steady tap of her heels was accompanied by a totally unexpected, non-Frozen flutter of her skirt. The movement captured his gaze and his focus. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from that provocative dance of fabric. It was like her thighs were playing peekaboo with the world, and holy shit, he couldn’t look away.
Bree Elias, he reminded himself. Voted Miss Tight Ass in school. Public disser. Daughter of his sworn enemy.
But damn. The woman could rock a skirt.
Thank God, at that point the group chair, Alice Wynn, bustled into the room in a flurry of scarves and folders and laptops and cords. She hurried to the head of the table, welcomed everyone warmly, and set the proceedings in motion.
Spence leaned back in his chair, making notes, while hoping no one would notice that he was kind of beaming on the inside. None of the other members knew that this project was his baby. His dad’s, really. From the moment Gordon had first heard of urban food forests, he had wanted to make one happen in Calypso Falls. He had quickly seen the potential for it to bring folks from all walks together, especially if it straddled the town/university border. Now, thanks to Spence’s behind-the-scenes efforts for the past year or so, both the town and the university were on board with the idea.
Alice gave them an overview of the process, hopscotching from phase to phase with such frantic gesturing of her hands that her multicolored scarves looked like a kaleidoscope on speed. Grant applications must be written. Permits must be acquired. Drawings must be presented and work parties arranged and maintenance agreements negotiated.
“But before anything else,” she said, “we need to do public outreach. You will all be expected to educate people from both Calypso Falls and the university about this project. You’ll go to community events. Set up tables at the library. Visit schools. Some of the grants we will be applying for will depend on our being able to demonstrate support from both the communities that will be impacted. So our first big job is to get people excited about the project.”
Bree sat up straighter.
“Do you think it’s going to be a problem getting the support of the students on campus?” she asked. “After all, we’re looking at”—she glanced down at her notes—“something that’s a good two years away, and that’s if everything moves according to plan. Most of those currently on campus will say, hey, why should I care? I won’t be around when this comes to life.”
A valid point, much as Spence hated to admit it.
“You’re quite correct, Bree.” Alice smiled gently. “Since you are more closely connected to the student body than anyone else here, you’re going to be doing the most on-campus education. I suggest you make it a two-way street. Learn what will make this project more appealing to the student body. This will be more than a park where people can pick apples. It’s meant to be a gathering place. Find out what will entice students and report back to us.”
Ha. That had to pop her little balloon.
But Bree didn’t seem phased. Nope. She simply nodded and wrote something down while Alice continued to discuss tasks.
Spence was pretty sure he was the only one to notice that when Bree set her pen down, she did a wiggly little shimmy with her shoulders. Like a tiny little victory dance.
Holy— She had totally played Alice.
Much as he didn’t want to, Spence couldn’t keep from feeling some grudging respect. His memories of high school Bree all involved long hours in the library, precisely chosen words in class, and smug little glances when she beat him on a test.
This Bree, though—this was different. She seemed to have a better grasp of others. Like she was no longer just book smart but people smart, too. Like she knew what she wanted and made sure she got it.
Maybe it was just life.
Maybe she took after her father more than he’d expected.
* * *
Bree was pretty sure that Spence was giving her the evil eye from the other end of the table. She couldn’t be positive, because that would mean focusing on him, and she had promised herself she wouldn’t do that. Sideway glances were all she could permit. She needed to know what he was doing, but not keep him in the center of her attention.
At least not until after she apologized.
That, however, couldn’t happen until the meeting was over. So for the moment, her mission was to stay on task, make a good impression, and hope that the sweat trickling between her breasts wasn’t visible through her clothes. She couldn’t wait to have this behind her.
Alice wasn’t the worst chair, but she did seem to take delight in ordering them all around. Not a problem, really. Bree preferred someone who could take charge rather than someone who tried to please the entire membership and thus got absolutely nothing accomplished. Maybe she could get Alice to handle the groveling on her behalf.
She swiveled toward the front of the room so Spence couldn’t catch her grinning to herself at the thought of tiny Alice telling scowling Spencer James that she was sorry—but in such a way that it became obvious it was really his fault and she was saying the words only to make sure the world kept on turning.
Not a bad image to carry in her head as she put her plan of action into work.
Of course, her fondness for Alice’s take-charge approach dropped considerably when the chair announced that she had taken the liberty of setting up their first community outreach assignments. Bree’s pleasure at having at least one appearance off campus fled when Spence’s name was also called.
Damn it. She could manage him in the big group. More buffers, more relationships, fewer interactions. But just the two of them?
She was doomed.
As soon as the meeting was adjourned, Bree pushed away from the table. Spence was taking his time gathering his things. Good. She needed to catch him before he left.
She slipped into the hall and around the corner that led to the entrance, waiting for her chance. Her only worry was that Spence might walk out with someone else. Then things could get awkward.
On the other hand, if he was with someone else, then she could do this via e-mail and—
No. Even as the thought enticed her, she did a mental Get thee behind me, Satan. Some things had to be done in person or they simply didn’t cut it. Eating. Sex. And, unfortunately, apologies.
Fate was either rewarding her or taunting her—she wasn’t sure which—when Spence came around the corner, aiming for the door. Bree slipped out from her waiting place and faced him.
“Hello, Spence.”
“Bree.” His eyes narrowed and his head tipped, undoubtedly trying to figure out what she was doing. Good question. She wished she were entirely sure of the answer.
Another bead of sweat trickled down her bra. Good Lord. At this rate, pretty soon she was going to look like a nursing mother who was three hours overdue to feed someone.
“I . . . Spence, look. I know we have some awkward history between us, but I think we’re both adult enough to know that we can’t let it get in the way of the work we need to do. So I was wondering if . . . if I could buy you a coffee. And apologize. And maybe we could negotiate . . . well . . . a new way to interact with each other.” She forced a smile, hoping it looked at least semi-sincere. “I think it would make things easier. For us, and for everyone who needs to work with us on this.”
His head tilted. He looked her up and down—not in the way men usually looked at Jenna or Paige, but the way Annie looked at the kids in her care when they insisted they hadn’t hurt the kid crying at their side. Even when the other kid was covered in bite marks.
“Interesting request.”
“I’m not surprised that you would think that. Totally understandable.” Oh God, she hated babbling. “Look, I know you’re probably racing off to something else, so if you don’t have time, I get it.” Please be busy. Please be busy. “But I want you to know that I do . . . regret . . . the things I said the last time we saw each other.”
“Said?” Now he was definitely mocking her. “I think the word you’re looking for is more along the lines of shrieked. Or accused. Or erupted with a force that made Old Faithful look like a piece of Bubble Wrap.”
Uh-oh. Things might be about to get sticky.
Bree glanced from side to side. Maybe Alice would wander down the hall. Or one of the other task force members, or a student, or even that jerk from the English department who had tried to convince her to do the Mistletoe Mambo at the Humanities Christmas party.
But, of course, this was the day the halls had to be deserted.
“Look,” she said. “We both know that you have every right to be ticked off at me—”
His high-flying eyebrows added to the overall air of mockery.
“But could we go somewhere and discuss this, please?” She attempted the kind of smile Jenna always used when she was looking for a favor. Sideways. Appealing. Eyes wide.
Unfortunately, on Bree, the only effect it seemed to have was to make her glasses slip down her nose.
She pushed them into place—Note to self: get the damned things adjusted—and inhaled. “What do you say, Spence? A cup of coffee and a slice of humble pie, for the sake of everyone who has to work with us?”
“How about for the sake of the work itself?”
Well that was an odd way to put it. “Of course. It’ll be much easier to give this our best efforts if we’re not distracted by thoughts of—well—by unpleasant memories.” She’d been about to say something about thoughts of murdering each other but decided it might be best to avoid offering suggestions. “And this forest project is such a good one. It really deserves the best we can give it.”
She wasn’t sure what she’d said, but his entire demeanor flipped in the space of a breath. Good-bye, wary and scornful; hello, affable and— Okay, he still was far from friendly, but he definitely seemed to have dropped a couple of points on the defensiveness scale.
“Okay, Bree. I’m willing to try a do-over. But you’re not getting off with just a cup of coffee. I’m gonna need lunch. Not on campus, either.” His eyes glinted. “I’m thinking someplace downtown. Maybe at Chez Nous.”
Oh hell. How was she supposed to tell him that lunch there would probably cost about a quarter of next month’s rent money? She couldn’t. Not only would her pride forbid her from telling the truth, but seriously? She had yelled at him in a diner. Yeah, she’d been a bitch, but it wasn’t like she had taken out a billboard telling the world he was scum.
“Sorry, Spence. I was out of line, but I wasn’t that bad.” She jerked her head toward the door. “There’s a great soup-and-sandwich place over in the student union. That’s the best I can do for you. Take it or leave it.” She pulled out her phone and checked the time. “And I have another meeting in an hour, so I have to be efficient about this. So, if you say yes in the next fifteen seconds, I’ll spring for a piece of their really excellent Dutch apple pie for dessert. Otherwise, sorry, Charlie.”
His mouth twitched. Repeatedly. He was either trying to keep from laughing at her or she’d pissed him off so badly that he was on the verge of a stroke.
“Never let it be said that I don’t appreciate a good negotiation.” He started walking. “Come on. I have another appointment this afternoon, too. I don’t want to waste time standing here and miss out on the chance of pie.”
She certainly hadn’t expected that. Huh. Maybe they’d both grown up a bit over the past ten years after all.
Since maturity was supposed to be one of the rewards for getting older and saggier, she hoped they’d both picked up a little of it. Maybe with a side of wisdom.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t harass him a little.
“Hey, Spence,” she called to his departing back. When he stopped mid-stride and turned around, she pointed down the corridor leading to the right. “It’s this way.”
She was totally lying. They could just as easily get to the student union from the front door. But she had to take what secret jollies she could get, and there was no denying that the faint air of embarrassment now clinging to Spence was definitely putting her in a holly-jolly mood.
“Lead on,” he said with a mock bow and flourish. She nodded, and marched down the corridor.
She had to play nice. But there was no law that said playing nice couldn’t still have some secret joys.
* * *
Half an hour later, Spence spooned up the last drops of the best tortilla soup he’d ever tasted, other than his own, eyed the very promising slice of pie Bree had insisted on buying him, and wondered what the hell was really happening here.
She had apologized. Appropriately and prettily, without any extra words, but the ones she chose were enough to convince him she did regret the way she’d lit into him that day.
Did he believe that she was sorry for the sentiments she’d expressed? Not a chance in hell. She might wish she hadn’t done it in such a public forum, but he didn’t think for a second that she hadn’t meant every word that had come out of that intriguing mouth. However, what regrets she did offer seemed sincere, and she’d been dead-on about the food, so he was inclined to go with mellow. Because she was right about something else: reducing tension between them would make things easier for everyone else on the task force.
Besides which, at some point—probably when she said that she thought the forest was a worthy project—it had hit him that there could be some benefits to having Bree as an ally. Or, at the very least, as someone he could subtly interrogate for information about her father’s shenanigans.
He didn’t think she knew anything about the business dealings between their fathers that had led to the authorities knocking on the Jameses’ door. She had been too young when her dad was doing his nasty work. He could give her a pass on that.
But the group he was working with to keep her father from establishing his organization in Calypso Falls could use all the insight and ammo they could get.
It wasn’t that he thought the organization itself would be a bad idea. Hell no. Spence was a big fan of second chances. Not to mention the fact that anything that kept a family together was A-OK in his book. He knew how much it had hurt to have his family pulled apart unwillingly, and he’d been an adult when it happened. Not to mention that his parents hadn’t done anything wrong, which had been small consolation; but still, it was a help. But to be a little kid and know that Mommy or Daddy had to go away for a long time because he or she did something really bad? Yeah. Not something any kid should have to go through.
Not that it seemed to have hurt Bree, of course. But her circumstances were different. She’d already thought her father was dead for years before he landed in the big house. Jail had probably looked pretty good under those conditions. Or, at least, like the lesser of two evils.
No, if it had been anyone else heading this up, Spence would have been all over it. If it had been Rob Elias anyplace else—well, Spence’s support would have been a lot more tempered then, but he still could have swallowed it.
But to do it here just felt wrong. Like a slap in the face to everyone who had known Rob. Definitely like Rob was flaunting his ability to come and go as he wished when that privilege had been denied to Spence’s folks.
No one should be allowed to walk around without a care in the world after screwing over their supposed oldest friend.
“So.” Bree, who had practically inhaled her soup, steepled her hands above her bowl and watched him from behind her glasses. “Now that the apology is out of the way—”
“Oh, I don’t know. I might need to make you grovel a bit more.”
“Dream on,” she said sweetly. “It strikes me that even though I’ve supposedly known you since childhood, really, my main memories are of getting pissed off at you when you beat me on tests and exams. So what have you been doing with yourself lately?”
Lately, huh? It seemed she was totally jumping over the university years. Fine by him. If she still believed him guilty of the things he’d said, then it would be easier to maintain his badass persona. Plus she might lump him into the same category as her father, which, depending on how that had all unfurled, might lead to her feeling inclined to talk about Rob with him.
“Working,” he said. “I’ve been working.”
She wrinkled her nose, though he wasn’t sure if it was because of his answer or because her glasses kept slipping. “Well, that’s obvious,” she said slowly. “We’ve all been working.”
He raised an eyebrow. She bristled.
“You don’t think that I’m working as hard as you? I admit, I don’t do the physical labor that you do, but believe me, it’s not easy to juggle classes and full-time jobs. Not when you’re doing both at the same time, I mean.”
“What do you mean?”
She sat back, her face closing. “I— Nothing. Forget it. How’s your mom?” Some softness crept into her eyes. “I have this one memory of her from when we were little. It must have been at your house, because it was in a blue kitchen. Ours was green.”
Okay. She didn’t want to talk about herself? Fine. He’d let it slide.
But he wasn’t going to forget it.
“You mean the old house, right?”
“I didn’t know there was more than one.”
“Yeah, we moved when I was about eight. But I’m pretty sure the kitchen in the old place was blue.” Despite himself, he was curious. “What do you remember?”
“It’s not much. Just . . . we were all there, sitting around a little plastic table. It was yellow. And we were eating hot dogs, and Jenna said she didn’t feel good, and my mom took her away, and a minute later, we heard the toilet. And I remember looking at your mom and asking why people always flushed the toilet when their stomach hurt.”
“And what did she say?”
“I think she just laughed and said I must not get sick very much.”
“And did you?”
“What?” She seemed to jerk out of her reverie.
“Get sick a lot. When you were a kid.”
“Who knows?” She shrugged. “Even if I did, I guarantee you it wouldn’t have been memorable. Not unless I was dying.”
“Why not?”
“Because I was the oldest. If I got sick, so did everybody else, and believe me, Jenna was a drama queen when she was under the weather.”
Her grin told him that any resentment toward Jenna was long forgotten.
“Plus the twins were always kind of frail when they were little, so, you know. They would have needed attention way more than I did.” She pointed at him. “You youngest children have no idea of the horrors we eldest kids have to endure.”
He couldn’t keep from laughing. “Yeah, you guys have it so rough. ’Cause everyone knows that the oldest ones are always the favorites.”
“Not necessarily. The smartest, usually. That’s not being vain, that’s a proven fact. We tend to be the most responsible and organized, too. But remember, parents are usually stricter with their firstborns than they are with those who arrive later, especially in large families. Not only that, but the parents aren’t as sure of themselves and their abilities, which means that oldest children are basically the lab rats of the family.” She shrugged again. “So you can add “more neurotic than later-borns” to the list of eldest-child traits.”
He thought of his bighearted, foul-mouthed sister. “You had me up until ‘neurotic.’ That doesn’t seem to fit with the oldest kids I know. Bossy, demanding, smug, yeah. But neurotic? Uh-uh.”
Something that looked like surprise flared briefly in her eyes. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Interesting.” She tapped her lips with her fingertip. “Because that one, I totally made up.”
Well that added a new and unanticipated twist to the conversation. “So were you trying to play me or test me?”
She sat back in her chair. “I don’t know.”
From the look on her face, he had a feeling that in this, at least, she was telling the truth. Not only that, but he had a pretty strong hunch that she was more surprised than he was.
“So, what are you studying here?” He waved a hand toward the halls and dug into his own memory bank. “Some kind of math?”
“No. Why would you think that?”
“Because math was the one subject when I really had to bust ass to beat you.” He grinned. “Remember Mr. Gibala and how he used to get so pissed off when people didn’t catch things the first time through?”
Her grin was remarkably relaxed. “Him, I remember. Him getting bent out of shape? Nope. Probably because he was the only math teacher I really understood.”
“You’re the only person I know who liked geometry.”
She waved it away. “It’s all memorization and logic. There were patterns. Not like algebra.”
“What are you talking about? Algebra is totally logic and patterns.”
“Yeah, but they weren’t ones that I could figure out.”
“I wish I’d known that back in eleventh grade. I would have got a lot more sleep, knowing that you weren’t as together as you made me think you were.”
“Now where would be the fun in that?” she asked, and it was so light, so saucy, that for a second he forgot who and what she was and focused solely on the way the corners of her mouth quirked up. Like she was teasing him.
“So.” He had to regain control of the conversation, fast. “You never told me what you’re studying.”
“Psych. No, not clinical,” she said quickly, as if it were something she was used to having to clarify. “Personality.”
“You mean, like, why some people don’t seem to have one?”
“No. Like, what makes us each individuals.”
Now that he wouldn’t have expected. She seemed to be one who would want to charge in and fix things, not stand back and observe them. Though maybe psych was more hands-on than he realized.
And maybe he shouldn’t be having some totally unexpected thoughts in conjunction with Bree Elias and the term hands-on.
“What kind of work do you do with that?”
“Lots of possibilities. I’m aiming to teach.”
“In schools?”
“In a college or university environment.”
“So you’re going to be Dr. Elias?”
“That’s the plan.”
Okay. Ivory tower, ordering students around, being the one in charge? Yeah. That seemed like a better fit for her.
Not that he was any expert on Bree. Nor did he ever intend to be. But he liked knowing that at least some of his perceptions about her were rooted in reality.
“And now I have a question for you,” she said. “What do landscapers do in the winter?”
“Depends if you’re talking about me or my employees.”
“Both.”
“My team members have a bunch of options. Some want to be just seasonal employees, spend the winter somewhere down south. Some do some snowplowing for me. A handful of others work on a couple of houses I’m flipping. They pick up extra skills and hours, and I have a side business.”
“Very enterprising of you.”
Those should have been complimentary words. So how come when she said them her mouth looked as if she had just eaten something stinky and sour?
“I guess you have a real affinity for being your own boss,” she said, and he got it. She might have apologized for publicly dressing him down, but she wasn’t about to let him off the hook for his supposed misdeeds. She was still clinging to the stories he had told years ago.
Okay. Fine. He didn’t need her approval or understanding. He didn’t need them from anyone other than his family, really, and especially not from an Elias. As long as she was willing to play nice while they worked together, then that was all that should matter to him.
He gathered his things. “I should get going,” he said. “Good talking to you, Bree. I’ll see you soon.”
Surprise filled her eyes. Surprise and something that looked like a flash of regret, before she shook her head and extended her hand.
“Onward and upward?” she said.
He gave her a cursory shake. “Yeah. Sure.”
But as he walked away, he couldn’t help but kick himself. Because even though he didn’t trust her farther than he could throw her, he couldn’t block the memory of her legs playing peekaboo in that skirt.