How to Love Your Neighbour(17)
8
Grace got into her vehicle and laid her head back against the seat with a very heavy sigh. Her best friend, Rosie, a fellow design student she’d met one day four years ago, did the same. Their moves were choreographed like synchronized swimmers’. Grace would have laughed but she was too tired.
“How can seven-year-old children be so exhausting?” Rosie asked.
Grace turned her head to see that her friend’s eyes were closed, her black curls surrounding her rounded cheeks. “There were just so many of them.”
“If I have kids, they’ll be allowed two friends max at a party,” Rosie vowed, opening her eyes but not lifting her head.
Grace, not having the same option, started her vehicle and backed out of the driveway, casting one last glance at her teacher/ mentor/idol’s beautiful suburban home. Joanna Kern had it all: the career, supportive husband, beautiful home inside and out, and mostly human children. Okay, the kids should be cut some slack due to sugar highs and whatever child pheromones they had that made them ask so many questions.
“I want two I think but I’d really prefer they come several years apart,” Grace said, though the thought of being someone’s mother terrified her to her soul. She did not want to repeat Tammy’s mistakes, and it was a struggle every day just to get up and make sure she didn’t turn out anything like her mother in every other aspect of her life.
“I’m so glad you’re driving. Sorry if I fall asleep while you’re talking,” Rosie said around a yawn.
“That’s what he said,” Grace said on a weary laugh. Between getting woken up earlier than she wanted, the stress of dealing with her neighbor, and then the party, she was looking forward to a shower, cozy jammies, and a glass of wine. Maybe a home-reno show.
“Speaking of things he said, did your neighbor back off on the fence?” Rosie fiddled with the radio, bouncing around from station to station before landing on 96.2 SUN.
Grace had texted Rosie last night, upset about the idea of paying for the cost of the fence right after she’d sent an e-transfer to Tammy. “I fixed it today actually. Even he couldn’t complain about the job I did. He tried. I still have to paint the two slats I replaced but he’ll have to wait.”
“What an entitled jerk,” Rosie said.
Something in her tone told Grace there was more coming. She switched lanes so she could jump on the freeway that would take them back to Harlow Beach.
“Have you googled him?”
Grace snorted. “I try to get to know a guy before I do that.”
Rosie’s laugh filled the vehicle. It was loud and infectious. “I’d actually be okay with that if you did, in fact, let yourself get to know guys.”
This again. “I’ve told you, I’m not looking for flings. I want to find the guy that complements the life I’m building.”
“Despite your mom’s less than stellar example, you know you can date and even have sex without falling into a man’s clutches, right? You’re in control. It’s okay to have some fun before you find the one. In fact, it’s pretty hard to find the one without dating.”
“Did you have a point?” Grace took the exit, adjusting her hands on the wheel. She wanted one of those cars that drove themselves. Or a car service for when she was tired. Noah Jansen probably has a driver. And a butler. Probably doesn’t know either of their names.
Rosie dug through her purse, pulled out her phone. Grace saw her touch the screen from the corner of her eye.
“Noah Jansen of the New York Jansens, thirty-three, is an American real estate developer, socialite, and the son of business magnate Nathaniel Jansen. Jansen’s grandfather is best remembered for his contributions to a variety of New York City neighborhoods including the Wells Street Community Center in Harlem. Noah works for his father’s corporation along with his two brothers. He’s been linked to several well-known women but remains single.”
“Pfft. Probably because of his attitude. He might have money but he thinks women can’t fix fences and that he can buy whatever he wants.”
“Dude is rich. And hot. You failed to mention that.”
“Did not,” Grace said, whipping her chin in her friend’s direction. “My first description of him was sexy, hot surfer dude.”
“Okay. That’s fair but you failed to follow up on that after saying he lived next door.”
“It’s not something I want to dwell on.”
Rosie put her phone away. “He’s likely not used to having anyone stand up to him.”
Grace agreed but only nodded. She couldn’t figure him out. He had a multitude of personalities, not all of which she liked, but there were hints of something underneath. Like a bedraggled cabinet, stuck in a corner, waiting for someone to put in the time and effort to peel back the layers, see what it once was or could be.
“Want me to come help paint this week?”
“I’d love some help but you have the same projects I do. I don’t want to take up your time. I appreciate you coming today. Especially once I got there. I thought those kids were going to take me out.”
Rosie’s laugh was interrupted by another yawn. “They were pretty excited to see the paint lady. I don’t mind. I want to see the house now that you’re in it. I want my stamp on it, too.”