The House

Sarah had been spending a lot of time there on weekends, sanding, cleaning, measuring, making lists. She had bought herself an impressive-looking tool kit, and was going to try and build a bookcase herself, in her bedroom. Jeff had said he'd show her how.

Marie-Louise had finally come back to the city the week before. She sounded more French than ever, whenever Sarah talked to her, but she was not involved in the project. She had come back to handle her own, as most of her clients were clamoring for her return. Sarah talked to Jeff now almost every day. They had agreed, before Marie-Louise got back, not to pursue a romance with each other, but to keep their dealings and friendship entirely centered on her house. If anything else developed later, if their current relationships failed, that would be a bonus, but Sarah had made it clear to him that it was too uncomfortable for her to harbor romantic feelings for him, while he was living with and totally enmeshed with Marie-Louise, whether he was happy with her or not. Jeff agreed.

They had lunch with each other the day after Phil left. It was a Sunday, and Marie-Louise was stuck at her desk, trying to catch up. Sarah was touched and startled when, after omelettes at Rose's Café, Jeff slipped a little package toward her across the table. She unwrapped it carefully, and her breath caught when she saw the beautiful little antique pin he had given her. It was a small gold house with tiny diamonds in the windows, and was the perfect gift. He had been both generous and thoughtful.

“It's not as big as your house,” he said sheepishly, “but I thought it was pretty.”

“I love it!” she said, looking touched. She could wear it on the jackets of all the suits she wore to the office, to remind her of him and her house. She was learning so much from him, about how to restore her house. He also gave her a book, explaining about carpentry and house repairs, which would be very useful. He had given her the perfect gifts, carefully chosen.

She in turn had given him a set of beautiful old leatherbound books on architecture, which were first editions. She had found them in a musty old bookstore downtown. They had cost her a fortune, and he loved them. They were a handsome addition to the library he added to whenever possible, and cherished.

“What are you doing over the holidays?” he asked her over coffee at the end of the meal. He was looking tired and more than a little stressed. He had a lot of projects to finish, and now that Marie-Louise was back, his life was busier and less peaceful. She always occupied his space like a tornado. Over the years, he had found most of the things they said about redheads to be true. She was fiery, dynamic, and had a fearsome temper. But she was passionate as well, about everything, both good and bad.

“I'll be working on my house,” Sarah said easily. She was looking forward to it. With Phil gone, she could work through the weekends, and even late into the nights. She was hoping it would help the holidays speed by. “I'm having Christmas Eve dinner with my grandmother and mom, and whoever they invite. The rest of the time, I'll work on the house. Our office is closed between Christmas and New Year's.”

“So is mine. Maybe I'll come over and help you. Marie-Louise hates holidays so much, she's always particularly irritable at this time of year. She not only hates celebrating them herself, she takes it personally when anyone else does, especially me.” He laughed as he said it, and Sarah smiled. Nothing was ever easy, for anyone, no matter how it looked from the outside. “She's thinking of going skiing over New Year's. I don't ski, so I'll probably stay here and get some work done. I used to go with her, and sit around the lodge bored all day, and she was too tired to go anywhere at night. She almost made the Olympics as a kid, so she's a hotshot skier. She tried to teach me a long time ago, but I'm hopeless. It's one sport I'm really not good at and don't like. I hate the cold.” He smiled. “And falling on my ass, which I did a lot of, while she laughed at me. Now she goes up to Squaw alone. We both prefer it.”

“Come over anytime you want,” Sarah said warmly. She knew that their time together at the house would be more circumspect now. He had never kissed her again since the day of their picnic there. They had both agreed that that wasn't a good idea, and would just get them into trouble, and someone would get hurt. Sarah didn't want it to be her, nor did he. He had conceded that she was right, although it was hard not to reach out and take her in his arms when they were alone together. For her sake, as much as his own, he resisted the impulse now. Instead they worked together for hours, side by side, without ever touching. Admittedly, sometimes it was hard. But he respected her judgment and her wishes. And he had no real desire to complicate his situation with Marie-Louise.