Love Starts with Elle(13)

Jeremiah’s voice resonated from the foyer where he talked with their Realtor, Lyle Dubois, between answering phone calls.

Today, of course, his phone is not accidentally turned off. Elle grimaced at her silent sarcasm. Did she not expect bumps in the road, especially with a man like Jeremiah whose high energy inspired everyone around him to move and shake?

Three months on the job and from what Elle observed and heard during the Sunday-night potluck dinner, Dr. Jeremiah Franklin had 3:16 Metro Church on the move.

While she loved his success, Elle struggled to see how she fit in the big picture.

Jeremiah’s cell rang for the fifth time that hour. “Maurice, what do you have for me?” Maurice Winters was Jeremiah’s assistant and longtime friend and the reason Jeremiah first heard of the senior pastor job.

Elle walked the length of the living room again and peered into the grassless backyard. Beyond the spattering of trees, the Texas sky darkened with more rain.

“Elle.” Jeremiah angled his head into the room from the foyer, phone to his ear, the mouthpiece even with his jaw. “Lyle said the developer plans to lay the sod before we close.” Back to his phone without waiting for her response.

“Thanks,” she said. Lyle nodded a “You’re welcome.”

This week had been a whirlwind week of discovery. Meeting the congregation—all of whom Elle found warm and charming. Jeremiah had announced he’d been asked to host a weekly television show with the intent to start local and go national by the end of next year. After consulting his leaders, he’d agreed to start the preproduction process as early as April.

Two days later, while walking through the house Elle loved the most—a farmhouse outside the city limits with a big yard, trees, and a small, trickling stream—Jeremiah took a phone call, talked briefly, then announced to Elle he’d agreed to write a book to go along with the theme of the television show. Now he constantly jotted notes on napkins and the back of receipts.

Was she feeling overwhelmed? Big fat yes. Life was happening to her, not with her.

“Well, babe, what do you think?” Jeremiah clicked his phone closed and walked toward her.

“It’s big. Lovely.” Too new, too cold. “The yard is the size of a saltine. And there’s not a tree in my line of sight.”

Jeremiah circled the room’s perimeter, commenting on the crown molding and the unique use of the floating staircase. “I love it. Lyle, what’s the price on this one?”

Elle’s temples tightened. Of course he loved the house. It was the image of him. Haute couture. Stylish, modern, pristine, and structured with intricate details not easily duplicated.

But she longed for vintage. An older home with creaking floors, odd-shaped rooms, hidden nooks, and a history of love and laughter.

“The price is in your range, Dr. Franklin.” Lyle walked toward the center of the barren living room. “And in this buyer’s market, we can offer several thousand less than the asking price.”

The skinny Realtor under a cowboy hat shoved back his bright orange jacket, set his hands on his belt, and glanced between the two of them. Poor Lyle, caught between their tug-of-war of wants.

“Elle, what do you think?” Jeremiah nodded slightly. “Yes?”

She hated to sound like a worn, scratched record, but for the moment, the kind of house she moved into after her wedding and honeymoon was the only thing she had control over in her pre-Dallas existence.

“I don’t know, Jeremiah. Isn’t it a bit expensive?”

“Excuse us, Lyle.” Jeremiah shuffled Elle out the back of the living room into the dining room. “I guess we haven’t been able to talk in-depth about money.”

And whose fault is that, Cell Phone Man? “It’s been crazy, I know.”

“Money is not an issue, Elle. I had the good sense not to squander my endorsement money from my football days.”

“Oh, gr-great.” His good sense tackled her last argument. “I’d never considered your football career.”

“Elle, I make a good salary, but the board knows I have investments. Other than buying a nice house, I don’t intend to flash money around. I’m keeping the Honda, not going to drive anything fancy. But I don’t want to come home from a long day and hear you tell me the plumbing needs fixing or the attic is leaking.”

Listen to his heart, Elle. How could she not agree? If Mama sat on her shoulder right now, she’d say, “Just go along, Elle. Do this for your man. You’ll make it a home in no time.”

“Your hesitation tells me you don’t like it.”

Did he hear her at all, read her language, understand her protests? “I’d feel like I was living in a hotel all the time. It’s big and drafty. Everything is stainless steel and brass. The farmhouse we looked at is out of the question? I know the first house I liked needed too much work, but there has to be more like it around this great big city.”

His eyes narrowed, but only for a second. He planted a quick kiss on her forehead. “Okay, Lyle, the woman of the house isn’t feeling it. What else you got? Can you show us something with a little more character.”

Elle slipped her hand into his and followed him to the foyer. “Thank you.”





FIVE

At Jeremiah’s small, bachelorlike kitchen table, he reviewed the house situation. Elle munched on a piece of toast and listened.