We make plans to drive north to Shane’s estate in Kenilworth. At ten o’clock Saturday morning, Jamie, Gus, and I are waiting on the front steps of our building as a black SUV with darkly tinted windows pulls up to the curb. The driver’s door opens, and out steps someone who could easily pass as a hitman. He’s dark and dangerous – closely-cropped black hair, black jeans and a black leather jacket, dark sunglasses, and muscles that just won’t quit. As he walks up the steps, I’m reminded of a sleek black panther on the prowl. The guy just radiates tension.
This is Jake? Holy cow. I’d hate to run into him in a dark alley.
I glance down at Gus, who’s fairly quivering with excitement at Jake’s arrival. I guess if Gus likes this guy, he must be okay.
When Jake reaches us, I can’t help noticing what a big guy he is. Not just tall, but muscular as well. I think it would be fair to characterize him as brawny, like a heavyweight champion would be. The numerous small scars on his face only add to his fighter persona, and it looks like his nose has been broken a time or two.
Jake claps his brother on his right shoulder and squeezes. “Hey, bro.” Then his hand slides down Jamie’s arm and the two men shake.
Jake takes off his sunglasses, hooks them on the collar of his dark T-shirt beneath his jacket, and turns to me expectantly. “Good morning.”
“Jake, this is my friend Molly Ferguson,” Jamie says. “Molly, this is Jake.”
Jake extends his big hand to me, and we shake as well. His hand is huge, and it engulfs mine. His hand is warm, and he holds my hand carefully, as if he’s tempering his strength.
“Nice to meet you, Molly,” he says. His voice fits him – deep and a little rough. “You guys ready to hit the road?” He reaches for Gus’s harness. “I’ll take this guy and load him into the back.” Then Jake looks at me. “You’ve got Jamie?”
I nod, linking my arm with Jamie’s, as we’ve done on so many occasions before. As Jamie and I head down the steps to the SUV, Jake helps Gus into the rear of the vehicle. Jamie opens the front passenger door for me and offers to let me sit in the front, but I opt for the back seat and encourage Jamie to sit up front with his brother.
I settle myself in the back seat, with my camera bag beside me, and buckle my seatbelt. From my vantage point in the back, seated directly behind Jamie, I have a perfect view of two very handsome, albeit very different men. I eavesdrop on their conversation as they catch up, discussing their brother Shane’s upcoming wedding… something about switching gears from a large church wedding to a small event with just family and friends. Apparently, Beth is rather shy, and the original wedding plans got to be a little too much.
As we head north away from the city, I relax into my seat and let my mind wander. While my gaze is fixed on the scenery out the window, part of my brain picks up bits and pieces of the conversation in the front seat.
Traffic heading north is pretty light this time of morning, so we make good time getting to our destination. I already knew Kenilworth was a lovely suburb full of grand houses and large properties, but nothing could have prepared me for our destination. Shane has a huge estate right on Lake Michigan. When Jake pulls off the main road and drives down a paved lane that meanders through the woods, I can’t help but be impressed.
As we stop at a wrought iron gate, Jake rolls down his window and speaks to a disembodied voice coming out of the intercom. The gate swings open for us, and we proceed. After passing a second gated checkpoint, I start to feel like I’m entering Fort Knox.
“This place is pretty secure,” I murmur to Jamie, leaning forward.
He nods. “A lot of dignitaries – politicians and celebrities – stay here when they’re in Chicago. The security’s very tight.”
We pass a huge pond on the left. A couple of rowboats are moored to the wooden dock, and several canoes lie upside down on the grassy bank.
The right side of the road is lined with gently rolling pastures, and I see a small herd of horses – four adults and one foal – grazing on the crest of a gentle hill. Their tails flick languidly as they bask in the sun.
I lean closer to the window to get a better view. “Your brother has horses,” I say, stating the obvious and unable to hide my surprise.
Jamie turns back to me. “Yes. Well, they’re Elly’s horses. Elly’s our housekeeper, and those horses are her babies.”
We pass a tall, sturdy older man with closely-cropped gray hair riding a lawn mower along the edge of the lane. He waves at us as we pass, and Jake waves back.
“That’s Elly’s husband, George,” Jake says. “He’s the groundskeeper.”
Gus wakes from his impromptu nap in the back of the vehicle and starts pacing eagerly, whining softly. It’s obvious he knows where we are, and he’s clearly excited.
We pull into a circular drive in front of a huge house. Jake parks the SUV near the front steps and cuts off the engine.
Before I can even unbuckle my seat belt, Jamie’s out of the SUV and opening my door. He offers me his hand and helps me climb down from the vehicle. I’m perfectly capable of getting out myself, but I can’t pass up the opportunity to hold his hand, even if just for a moment.
The front double doors open, and out steps a tall, slender woman looking very much at home in a pair of well-worn jeans, riding boots, and a denim jacket with beaded fringe. Her long silver hair hangs in a thick braid halfway down her back.
The woman’s face lights up when she sees Jamie, and she makes a beeline for him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She squeezes him tightly. “Oh, my God, I’ve missed you, honey,” she whispers, and then she goes up on her toes to kiss his cheek just above the top edge of his beard.
Jamie hugs her back and kisses the top of her head. “I’ve missed you, too.”
Jake opens the tailgate, and Gus leaps out of the vehicle and runs straight to Elly, rubbing against her legs and whining with excitement.
Elly reaches down to pet Gus, but her eyes are glued to Jamie.
Jamie lays his hand on Gus’s head, and the dog immediately settles down at his side. “Molly, this is Elly Peterson. Elly, this is Molly Ferguson.”
Elly wipes her hands on her jeans and reaches out to shake my hand, giving me a quick, welcoming smile. “Sorry, Molly, where are my manners? It’s just that I’m so happy to see Jamie. It’s just not the same around here without him.”
Jake gives Elly a hug, too. “I’m going to take off now,” he says to Jamie, clapping his brother on the back. “I’m going to make a quick run up to Harbor Springs to check on the cabin. I’ll be back by dark.”
Elly waves to Jake as he drives away, then turns to us. “Well, you two make yourselves at home. Let me know when you get hungry. I’ll have a nice, hot meal ready for you.”
* * *
Elly goes back to doing whatever it was she was doing before we arrived, leaving Jamie to take me on a tour of the house. With Gus leading the way, Jamie leads me inside, into a spacious two-story foyer filled with natural light. There’s a wide, curved staircase that leads up to the second floor.
“The family bedrooms are up there,” Jamie says. “All private suites. The recreation facilities are located downstairs – there’s an indoor pool, a fitness center, a theatre, an arcade. The south wing houses security personnel, who are on site twenty-four seven, as well as private suites for the occasional client who requires secure accommodations. Elly and her husband live here full time. Come, I’ll show you the lake view out the back of the house. That’s the view I’d like you to paint.”
I follow Jamie and Gus down a hallway to the rear of the house, passing a library on the left and a huge, formal dining room on the right.
“Is that an elevator?” I say, when we pass a wooden panel embedded in the wall.
“Yes.”
The hallway leads to an impressive great room at the rear of the house. I walk to the center of the room, trying to take it all in. The space is huge, yet visually organized into several distinct areas, which makes the space feel cozy in spite of its size.
There are several seating areas arranged beneath soaring ceilings. There’s a full-sized bar in one corner of the room. And the focal point is a massive stone hearth that extends all the way up to the exposed wooden rafters overhead. But my eye is drawn to the back wall, which is floor-to-ceiling glass providing a sweeping view of the Lake Michigan shoreline and the vast body of water that extends as far as the eye can see.
I walk up to the glass and peer outside at the wooden terrace that wraps around the back of the house, with several bistro style tables arranged for entertaining. Wooden steps lead down to a beautifully tended lawn that slopes gently toward the shoreline. I can see docks off to the south where quite a few boats are moored beneath metal canopies. I can make out at least two speed boats, a pontoon, a sailboat, and a catamaran, all bobbing gently with the ebb and flow of the water. In the distance a number of yachts glide effortlessly over the surface of the water.
My heart rate picks up. “What a magnificent view.”
Jamie laughs. “So I’ve been told.”
I’m such an idiot! “You’ve never seen it?”
He shakes his head. “I was still active in the military when Shane built this place. I was stationed either at Coronado, in California, or overseas in Afghanistan or Iraq. I never had a chance to visit before my accident. After I left the military, Shane brought me here to recuperate, and I lived here for several years until I moved to Wicker Park.”
He leans close and bumps my shoulder with his. “Describe it for me.”
“I’m sure someone’s described it to you before now.”
“Yes, but I want to hear it from your perspective. You’re the artist. I’m sure your interpretation is different than anything I’ve ever heard.”
I do my best to ignore the thrill that flashes through me at his compliment. He has no idea how validating his words are – and how much I need that kind of validation. Todd humored my career choice, but he never took it seriously. In college, where we met, he saw my art major as cute and quirky. He indulged me only because he could afford to. As soon as he finished his law degree and started working for his father’s law firm, he’d be raking in a six-figure income right off the bat. He could afford to support a wife who had a frivolous career, as he viewed it.
“Well?” Jamie says, leaning into me.
“You really want me to?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
I glance at him, taking advantage of the fact that I can secretly admire his profile. Then I look back at the view and describe it to him as a painter would see it. I describe the shape of the land, the movement of color and form as the view transitions from lawn to wild grasses to the sandy shore. I describe the trees surrounding the beach, as well as the outcroppings of rocks in the water. I describe the waves of water cresting against the rocks, splashing and spraying before they flow back out into the lake. I describe the colors I see, the multitudes of blues and greens, the creams, ochres, and browns, even the complex layers of blue and gray and white filling the skies. It looks like rain is headed our way.
“It’s beautiful,” I say wistfully, already mentally sketching out my plan for capturing the view.
He lays his arm across my shoulders and pulls me close. “That’s the best description I’ve ever heard. You win, hands down.”