Page 13 of Passion and Privilege

“The best,” he said proudly. “But she’s your boss now, Mr. Hastings. Just keep that in mind.”

I nodded, a wry smile on my lips. The notion of being answerable to Catherine amused me. Unaccustomed to anyone dictating my actions, I simply smiled and nodded.

“I take it you are the Jacobson of Jacobson and Sons?” I asked.

He chuckled and adjusted the baseball cap on his head. “I was a son. Now I’m the Jacobson.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Woodworking is in our blood. My father officially started the business, but it was his father that really had it first. My daddy just knew the importance of getting the right licenses and taxes and all that nonsense. Catherine, well, she wasn’t supposed to be in the business, but when that girl sets her mind to something, there’s no stopping her.”

I laughed. “Indeed, I’ve noticed that, Mr. Jacobson.” I glanced back at the plumbers who were now huddled around the truck going over plans. “She certainly knows how to command a job site.”

“She has her mother’s spirit and my stubbornness.” John chuckled. “A deadly combination if I ever saw one.”

I nodded and we stood silently for a moment, both of us taking in the scope of the project. The mansion, once magnificent but now tired and worn from years of neglect, was stirring with activity.

“Do you have any idea how big this job is?” John said with what sounded like the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I know she is going to do it and she’ll do it right, but this is a big, big job. I discouraged her from bidding.”

“Why?”

He waved his hands. “It’s big!”

It seemed his worries were not so much about Catherine’s ability, rather the sheer scale of the undertaking. He looked at me, his eyes holding a glint of worry and anticipation. “She’s ambitious, that girl. Always has been. But this project of yours is a beast.”

“I have no doubt,” I said, my gaze returning to the mansion.

“But you picked the right horse to bet on,” he said. “She’s going to do it. My girl is really going to do it.”

Chapter Seven

Catherine

THE SUN WAS STARTING to set, casting a warm, golden glow over Gloriana Manor. It had been a really, really long day. I was exhausted but exhilarated. I said goodbye to each of the subcontractors, making sure to use their names. That was something my dad had taught me. If I treated them right, they would keep showing up.

The first day of restoration had been a success. We were making good progress. I imagined Mr. Hastings was probably panicking a little. The first few weeks of a renovation were terrifying. We were ripping through walls, tearing down molding and doors and basically making a mess. It was hard for a person to see the end game. I knew what I was doing and I knew it was going to work out, but this was my job. I had done this many, many times. A homeowner hadn’t and things were always a little terrifying.

The anticipation of breathing life back into this historic home left me feeling invigorated, a sense of purpose surging within me. I was pleased to discover the wood was in good shape for the most part. I had been a little worried the decay would make some if it beyond saving, but nothing was so bad we couldn’t fix it up.

It was also going to move up our timeline. We could finish before the end of summer. As usual, there was always a bonus incentive for the subcontractors if they could make it happen.

As I packed up my tools, Mr. Hastings approached. I was a little self-conscious about my appearance. I had been working all day and it was warm and humid. I knew I was sweaty. My hair probably looked like limp noodles instead of bouncy curls.

“Mr. Hastings,” I said, my voice squeaking a little.

“Please, call me Timothy.”

“Timothy,” I said, smiling. “I know it looks bad, but trust me, it will be okay. You have to trust the process. We’ll start with the demolition tomorrow. It won’t be too bad, but the electricians and plumbers need to get to the stuff behind the walls. We’ve used equipment to find what we need so it won’t be hit and miss. That’s what all the chalk marks on the walls are for.”

“I suspected as much,” he said in a deep voice.

Being so close to him was making me nervous. “We’ll be starting with the kitchen and bathrooms on the first floor. We plan to work our way up through the floors. We figure that’s the best way to tackle the project.”

“I like it,” he said, nodding. “Methodical, but can I make one request?”

“Of course.”

“There is a bedroom and attached bathroom on the second floor that I would like to be prioritized.”