Page 30 of She Was Made for Me

Kyle glances at me, then back at Dad. “Good. We’ve got all our permits and plans, and we’ve begun demo today.” He pauses, and I wonder if he’s actually going to discuss the changes—and if I’ll have the courage to bring it up if he doesn’t.

There’s a knot in my stomach as the waiter delivers our lunch, interrupting the conversation. For a brief second, I consider blurting out that I’ve never been a project manager and that Dad was wrong to trust me on this project, but Kyle catches my eye and, somehow, seems to sense my nerves. Despite the lingering tension from our conversation last night, he sends me a reassuring smile.

“Violet and I have spent a lot of time learning the quirks of the building,” he begins, taking a fry casually from his plate. “We think your idea to split it into apartments is sound, especially for resale value.”

Dad nods, throwing his tie over his shoulder before picking up his BLT.

“But we thought that what really makes these buildings unique—what would make them stand out in a crowded market—is their historical charm.”

I have to admit, Kyle is good at this. Instead of just telling Dad we don’t want to modernize it, he’s building a case to support what will work best for Dad. But then he used to be an attorney, didn’t he? It’s easy to forget that when he’s stomping around the job site in work boots and flannel, his hair sticking out at all angles from under that hat.

Dad chews thoughtfully on his sandwich and Mom nods.

“I think you’re right,” she says. “The building is beautiful, and that’s what people love about this neighborhood. The history.”

Dad isn’t saying anything, and I feel that same swell of unease.

“We’ll definitely add modern elements,” I say in a rush. “Things that make it feel contemporary, while respecting the character of the building.”

Under the table, Kyle’s knee nudges mine—whether to reassure me or shut me up, I don’t know.

“We think we can create two spacious apartments that capture the charm of the building,” Kyle says smoothly, “with modern elements that appeal to the style-conscious home buyer.”

A smile slides onto Dad’s lips. “You sure you don’t want to come back to the firm?”

Kyle chuckles, reaching for his beer, and Dad gives a thoughtful nod.

“Alright. I trust you both. You know your stuff, Kyle, and I know you will have done your research, Vi”—he winks at me—“so whatever you think is best, let’s do it.”

Relief settles cool in my chest, and Kyle’s knee brushes mine under the table again. When I meet his gaze, there’s warmth there, and my heart skitters. For a split second I forget all about our conversation last night, because it feels like we’re on the same team, and it’s so good to have achieved something together. But when I return his smile he tugs his gaze back to his plate, stuffing fries in his mouth.

“You know what?” Dad says after a pause. “If you think the history of the building is its most important feature, then let’s do this right. Instead of apartments, we’ll keep the original layout as a single home, and sell it as a historical restoration with modern touches.”

I blink in surprise. Kyle was right, of course—Dad trusts him implicitly. I can’t help but smile, knowing we don’t have to lose the charm of the house.

“I think that’s a great idea.” Kyle is grinning too, clearly thrilled that Dad’s on board. “Then instead of being like every other New York duplex, or apartment conversion, it will stand out as a beautiful family home.”

“Exactly.” Dad nods. “I’ll get a realtor to come out and meet with you. See if he has any advice.”

“Couldn’t hurt,” Kyle agrees. “He can give us an appraisal before we start the build, so we can see how much value we add.”

“I’ll organize that, Dad,” I offer, still feeling the need to prove myself. “Let me know which company you want to go with and I’ll call them.”

Mom spears a salad leaf with a smile. “Who knows? You may want to buy the house yourself, Vi.”

I laugh, finally contemplating my lunch now that the conversation is over and my stomach is more settled. As if I could afford a house around here. And what about work? I’ll be heading back to the West Coast as soon as I’ve got another job lined up.

A funny sensation washes through me at the thought of leaving New York for California again. I’d always reasoned it was a small price to pay for my career, but since being back in the city I haven’t thought about Silicon Valley at all. I definitely don’t miss it, even if I miss having a real job.

I shake the thought from my head and concentrate on lunch. No point thinking about any of that while I’m on this project. I need to focus and make sure Dad’s faith in me isn’t completely misguided.

13

Kyle

Living with Violet has taught me several things about her. Not that we’re really living together; in the evenings I make a point of staying upstairs, so we don’t spend any more time together than we did previously, but I’ve noticed things that I hadn’t before.

Like how she doesn’t ever seem to eat a proper meal, or how she hardly sleeps—I know because I see her light on when I go out running early in the mornings, and sometimes late at night if I can’t sleep—or the fact that she works around the clock. The other night I came down to get my phone charger from the parlor room at 11 p.m. and she was still there, fiddling about with her Gantt chart, books spilling off her desk, the blue light of her laptop giving the room an eerie glow. She never switches off.

---