Page 27 of Crazy Little Thing Called Love
“With Faith?” Jake’s eyebrows shot up. “And why does that have you looking like you’ve been caught with your hand in the cookie jar?”
Edward’s cheeks colored slightly. “Your grandmother mentioned something about Ms. Hartwell needing to loosen up and have a proper night of mischief. She’s been quite determined to be a bad influence.”
“That sounds like her,” Jake said, already imagining the chaos his grandmother might be orchestrating. “Any idea what they’re up to?”
“Not a clue, sir, but knowing your grandmother as well as I do, I’m sure it will be interesting. She insisted they would take an Uber, as she put it, to avoid leaving evidence.” Edward’s expression remained perfectly neutral despite the alarm his words should have inspired.
Jake regarded the older man with amused suspicion. “When are you going to make an honest woman out of my grandmother, Edward?”
“I beg your pardon, sir, but I’m not sure anyone could make an honest woman out of Ruth.”
Jake roared with laughter and clapped Edward on the shoulder. “Fair point. I’d better track them down before Ruth gets Faith arrested.”
“That would be advisable, sir.”
* * *
The next morning, the sun had barely crested the horizon when Jake arrived at Faith’s Victorian. His truck was loaded with the custom cabinets that had finally arrived after weeks of delays. Finding George already there took him by surprise.
“Since when are you an early bird?” Jake asked, dropping his tool belt on a nearby sawhorse.
George Madsen straightened from the blueprints spread across a makeshift table. With his silver-streaked dark hair and wire-rimmed glasses, he looked more like a professor than a contractor. “Someone has to maintain a schedule around here.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’ve been distracted,” George said, his tone matter of fact rather than accusing. “Not that I blame you. This house is something special.”
“The house,” Jake repeated, his expression neutral.
“Right.” George’s mouth quirked into a knowing smile. “The house. You’ve done a good job on it. This will be quite the feather in our cap.” He handed Jake a folded note. “Dr. Hartwell left this for you. She was in a hurry.”
Jake unfolded the paper, scanning Faith’s elegant handwriting. “She’s going out of town? She didn’t mention anything about this last night.”
“Last night?”
“Ruth dragged her to some private poker game in the upstairs room of the Indigo Lounge,” Jake explained, still frowning at the note. “Apparently Faith has a remarkable poker face and came home with a good amount of money.”
George laughed. “Your grandmother is something else.”
“That’s one way of putting it.” Jake tapped the note against his palm. “Faith says she has speaking engagements in Chicago and Boston, followed by a radio conference in New York. She’ll be gone at least a week.”
“Convenient timing,” George observed.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Hey, I listen to the radio at night just like the rest of the country. All I’m saying is that some people need space to figure things out.” George gathered up his blueprints. “Especially when someone rushes them.”
Jake shot his partner a sharp look. “I didn’t realize you’d become an expert on relationships.”
“I’ve been married twenty-three years, Jake. That makes me more qualified than you.”
“Fair point,” Jake conceded.
“Besides, I know you well. When you get an idea in your head you grab it between your teeth and it takes the jaws of life to get you to release it. It’s why the company is successful. Because you don’t take no for an answer. But that doesn’t always work well with women.”
Jake rolled his eyes. “I get it,” he said. “She needs space. Did she say when she’d be back? Mention anything at all?”
“Nope.” George studied Jake’s expression. “She did say she’d been postponing all of these things because of the house and that work had finally caught up to her.”
