Mending Christmas With The Billionaire (Artists & Billionaires Book 2) Page 8

  Maybe a quick walk would help her focus. Tessa made sure everything was unplugged and the light turned off before heading upstairs. Something banged on the front door, and then someone yelled.

  Tessa went to open it.

  “I was about to give up!” A man carrying two banker’s boxes stepped into the building and walked to the last pew, where he deposited them. He then pulled a mailing tube out from under his arm. “I was told to find the things the reverend donated to the museum. Other than the clothing, this is it. Hope he finds what he needs.” The man hurried back the way he came.

  Tessa grabbed the tube and pulled off the end. A miracle! Annotated rubbings from the repair in the seventies. She rolled them up and put them back in the tube.

  The only thing she immediately saw of note in the other boxes was an ancient leather-bound book. She flipped through it, noting it contained detailed notes from the builder. The drawing of a gargoyle stumped her. She hadn’t seen any up on the roof.

  She needed to share this with Sean and his grandfather. Besides, it was frigid inside the church today. Since the Sunday meeting had been canceled yesterday with Granda being out of commission, the heat hadn’t been turned on entirely. She couldn’t finish the windows wearing gloves. Maybe she could convince the reverend to let her turn it on for a few hours.

  Grabbing the tube and the book, she headed for the parsonage.

  Sean opened the door to a too-exuberant knock.

  Tessa was practically bouncing. “Look what someone found!” She burst into the room like the sunshine he’d missed all day. “A man showed up with a couple of boxes and this tube. I wanted to get a better look at them, but the building was freezing. May I use the kitchen table?” She headed the direction of the kitchen. “How are you today, Reverend?”

  “I’d be a lot better if that grandson of mine would stop hovering. Are those the plans you have been looking for?” He grabbed his cane and followed Tessa.

  Sean shook his head. He hadn’t been hovering. Trying to convince Granda he didn’t need to dress in his “work” clothes and make calls had only partially worked as a stream of visitors came and went. Sean intercepted cookies and homemade candy all day. Why couldn’t someone bring a nice baked chicken and lettuce or something? At least Tessa hadn’t brought sweets with her.

  She cleared off the table, then wiped it clean and dried it before opening the tube. “Look! Aren’t these wonderful? I am so glad I got them. I completely missed this little sliver of lighter blue in my sketch. I’ll need to trace it. If only I had my light table.”

  Granda spoke up. “I have a light table. It is only about a foot square.”

  “You do?” Sean and Tessa asked in unison.

  “Yes, it was Cameron’s. He used to draw. He made it one year. But he was never happy with it as the lightbulbs made it too hot. But those new curly bulbs they make nowadays might work better.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Either in the sewing room or the cellar. Try the sewing room first. I think we kept most of his drawings up there, maybe under the bed.”

  Sean signaled Tessa to follow him upstairs. “Now you get to tour the home of a packrat. When you consider I am the sixth generation of Cavanaghs to live here, you can appreciate how deeply the tendency is embedded.”

  At the top of the stairs, he pointed out the bathroom and his bedroom. “That bedroom used to be Granda and Nana’s, but she had problems with her hip the last few years, so we converted the small bedroom downstairs and the dining room to a master suite.”

  Sean opened the last door in the hallway. The room had once been decorated for a girl, in pinks and yellows. But the last time the Cavanagh clan had produced a daughter was three years before Granda was born. She’d died of the measles at age two.

  “This looks a bit like an antique shop.” Tessa turned around slowly.

  “So, what would a light box look like?”

  “I suspect it would be about this high.” Tessa held her hands six inches apart. “And the top would be glass, possibly frosted.” She knelt at the foot of the bed and pulled up the spread. Achoo!

  “Dia linn.”

  “Dust bunnies.”

  “I would expect them to be bigger than bunnies by now,” said Sean from the closet.

  “I think I found something.” Tessa pulled a portfolio and a box from under the bed. “Perfect. It is more like a foot and a half square.” She peeked in the portfolio. “These must be your father’s.”

  Sean sat down on the bed and looked over her shoulder. “I haven’t seen these in years.”

  She moved each drawing carefully, as only an artist would, keeping her fingerprints off them. “Is this you?” A drawing of a little boy playing with a fire truck filled the page. “He must have loved you very much. The pencil strokes show so much feeling.”

  Sean swallowed. “I used to want to be a firefighter just like Dad.”

  Tessa tipped her head back, then set the portfolio aside and knelt, pulling him into a hug.

  “I’d forgotten he even drew. Some days when I think of him, all I can see are those terrible replays over and over again.”

  “How do you know he was last seen going into the tower?”

  “A woman he helped get out told us.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “Someplace in the Midwest. She named her son Cameron.” He buried his head in Tessa’s shoulder and wept.

  Tessa’s knee started to ache, but she didn’t dare move. Sean sat back and wiped his eyes. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

  As soon as he left, she stood and rubbed her knees. Before closing the portfolio, she looked at a few more drawings. Sean should see the rest of these, but not today. The drawing of him wearing his father’s turnout gear was precious. Tessa tied the portfolio together and left it on the bed. Before lifting the light box, she made sure to wrap the cord up so it would not trip her.

  Sean met her halfway down the hall. She handed him the light box. “I left the portfolio on the bed. I think you should look at the rest when you are ready.”

  When they returned to the kitchen, the reverend was reading the builder’s log book. “This is absolutely fascinating. And the drawings of the gargoyles—I have no idea what happened to them, but they were not there even when I was little.”

  “They are probably underneath the bed in the sewing room.” Sean’s words were meant for her ears only, but Tessa nearly ruined it by laughing out loud.

  “Tessa, did you read this note with the rubbings?” Reverend Cavanagh pointed to a corner of the paper.

  She read over his shoulder.

  Packed remainder of glass with original glass in a wooden crate marked FRAGILE. Left in the cellar. PT.

  “I didn’t see any wooden crates. So close to another miracle.”

  Sean’s head came up. “I know where it is!” He grabbed Tessa’s hand, and they ran out of the house.

  Tessa thought about her coat when the cold wind hit them, but she didn’t care. Stopping only long enough to grab the Maglite out of the closet, they continued their wild run. Sean guided her through the maze of catacombs to the back corner. He swept the light across the room until it landed on the old crate. “I used to try to use this as a step stool to get out of the window.”

  Tessa inspected the box. “It looks like it is rotting. If it does have glass in it, I’d hate to lift it and have the bottom come off.”

  “Maybe we could roll it?”

  If the glass wasn’t packed well, rolling it could break some of it. “There is a metal ‘Vote here’ sign in room six. We could slide it under the crate and then move it.”

  They found the sign and with careful teamwork managed to move the crate to the work table. Using the screwdriver and hammer Tessa kept in her general tool kit, they pried off the lid.<
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  “Oh! Oh! Oh!” Tessa grabbed Sean in a hug. “This is the best! Look! Not one but three sheets of the drapery glass. And all the rest!” She hugged Sean a second time and aimed a kiss for his cheek, but he turned his head and got it square on the mouth. A second of embarrassment flashed through her. Oh no! What have I done? But as Sean took control and deepened the kiss, the question fled like a ghost. A ghost she knew would come back to haunt her, but she wrapped her arms tighter around Sean and hoped the ghost had run far away.

  seventeen

  The late-evening phone call informing Sean the First Street Church’s organ needed an emergency repair was a mixed blessing. It meant he would spend the next two days working and wasn’t likely to get back to Blue Pines until late evening. It would be helpful for Granda to rely on someone else and to deal with giving himself the shots. The doctor had prescribed a special shot pen so Granda didn’t need to see the needle, but it hadn’t arrived yet. It would be harder to be away from Tessa for the day.

  But then, being away from her for the day would give him time to clear his head. In less than a week, their relationship would be over. For the first time ever, he didn’t want it to end.

  Tessa ignored the early morning text from Candace. If she answered, she would have to tell her roommate about finding the glass, then the kiss, then the dinner with both Cavanaghs, then the walk home and the other kiss. Then Candace would YELL text or call—not a fun way to start the day.

  Learning from the reverend that Sean had left early for the city hadn’t been a good way either, but at least she could work without distractions. She carefully carried the drapery glass upstairs to the window and compared it until she found the right match. Working from the rubbing, she created the pattern for the new piece.

  Cutting the glass proved tricky. Some old Styrofoam from one of the many boxes Reverend Cavanagh had collected proved to work well as a base after she carved out sections to support the drapery folds. She stopped to take photos to document the process. She doubted she would ever get to work with another piece of 125-year-old drapery glass again.

  Then she began the painstaking process of replacing the broken piece in the still vertical window. At least Sean wasn’t around to watch. She didn’t need her hands shaking or her heart bouncing around in her rib cage as she manipulated the came or used the soldering iron. The fading light was not enough to get the full effect of the glass, but she didn’t know where the switch to the floodlight was located.

  Tessa smiled all the way back to the inn.

  “Good day?” As usual, Margo manned the front desk.

  “The best. I fixed the piece of the window I worried would be nearly impossible. I heard you teasing the reverend about saving everything. This time it was a blessing. Imagine holding a piece of glass that could have been ordered by Mr. Tiffany himself.”

  “You know, my grandma always claimed the window was one of his. But there doesn’t seem to be much to prove it.”

  “There were many skilled artisans who worked with him, including several female designers. It is entirely possible the design came out of Tiffany studios, but not one of Louis Comfort Tiffany’s works. Which, of course, is still amazing.” Tessa let out a little sigh.

  “Have you eaten dinner?”

  Tessa shook her head.

  “Well, head on into the dining room. Tell them to bill it to your room.”

  “But I am not paying for my room.”

  “Precisely.” Margo waved her toward the door.

  “I should change first? I am covered in dust and stuff.”

  “Don’t dawdle. The chef’s filet mignon is to die for.”

  And, as always, Margo was right.

  Tessa stood back to admire her work. The redesigned section sparkled on the light table. As she worked the cement into the lead came, another worry plagued her—adequate time for the mixture to dry. At most, she only had about forty-eight hours before the section needed to be reinstalled. Ideally, she needed more than a week. She could only hope the recipe she’d learned from one of the studios she’d visited in London last spring would do the trick. It seemed to be working on the pieces she’d fixed in the vertical. At least with the exterior glazing she didn’t need to worry overmuch about leaking. Still, she wished she had more time.

  And not only for the windows.

  The ghost that was born and fled with their kiss had seemed to multiply in the catacombs—a natural phenomenon in dark, musty places.

  The boiler kicked on. The temperature must be dropping.

  She brushed the excess cement away.

  Familiar footfalls sounded on the stairs. “Still here?”

  “As you can see.”

  Sean came around the table and studied the glass. “It looks done, but why are you spreading dirt on it?”

  “It isn’t dirt. It’s cement. The cement seals and waterproofs it. Although there shouldn’t be much water in here, I’m worried it won’t dry in time.”

  “Would it help to move it up to Granda’s office? The room is warmer as it is on a separate radiator link, or whatever you call it.”

  “Good idea. I’ll take it up after I finish playing in the dirt and cleaning up.”

  “How long will that take?”

  Tessa used her gloved finger to rub a section smooth. “Maybe an hour.”

  “I’ll be practicing. Don’t leave without waving goodbye.”

  “I won’t.” Tessa was by no means a music aficionado and had never spent much time listening to an organ outside of occasional church visits, but as she listened to the strains coming from above, she wondered if other instruments conveyed so much emotion.

  After the last sounds of the Messiah faded, Sean played other pieces, some familiar, others not.

  Tessa gave the glass one final rub. Now all she needed was time. She took the pane up to the office and found it open. Sean started a mash-up of carols. She went to watch.

  His gaze met hers, but he continued playing until the end of the song. “Ready to leave?”

  “Almost. I need to clean up and make sure the glass I purchased is packed well so I can return it tomorrow. I want to be here on Friday when the new exterior glazing arrives.”

  “You’re driving to Jersey?”

  Tessa nodded.

  “Do you want some company? Unless I get another emergency job, I’m free, and it’s good for Granda to rely on someone else.”

  “Sure, I’d love the company. My GPS is talkative, but he spends most of the time lying to me.”

  Sean laughed. “Would you like me to drive? I think my car is in a bit better shape.”

  “Sure. I better go finish up.”

  Sean launched into a tune she couldn’t place, but it reminded her of background music to an old romantic movie.

  eighteen

  If a call did come in asking for a last-minute organ repair, Sean was prepared to let his calls ring to voicemail. But his phone remained as silent as the early morning streets in Blue Pines.

  Tessa waited at the hotel. She handed him a Styrofoam cup. “From Margo—the best raspberry hot chocolate I’ve ever tasted.”

  Sean preferred his unadulterated but took it anyway.

  “I am assuming you know the basic direction. Believe me, we are better off not listening to my GPS app until we have to.”

  They swapped stories about favorite teachers and favorite roommates. Tessa mentioned that one of her roommates had married Daniel Crawford.

  “You mean the rich-as-Midas guy always on the tabloid covers?”

  “The very one. How often do you read tabloids?”

  “Never. Haven’t you ever walked down a street in the city past the newspaper vendors?”

  Tessa pondered for a moment. “I guess I never noticed. I’m usually more
focused on the museums I visit than the street vendors.”

  “Is that all you have done in the city, museums?” Sean switched lanes so he would be prepared for their exit. “No wonder you thought of the Met when I said Mets. I need to take you and show you the city.”

  “It would be fun, but I don’t have time.”

  People rushed to finish their last-minute holiday plans, filling the freeway. He slowed to avoid someone who cut in front of him.

  “This is worse than Chicago. Do you drive in this often?”

  “I usually avoid the Jersey Turnpike, though I do get a few jobs in Newark and beyond.” Sean switched lanes.

  “I don’t know that I could do this all the time.”

  “For the most part, I don’t when I am working in the city. I plan my jobs so I am not trying to go from one borough to another on the same day. And often I’ll take the train to Granda’s. If I worked an office job, I wouldn’t need a car.”

  “Seems odd to not need a car.”

  Sean laughed at Tessa’s puzzled expression. “I remember one of the first movies I saw when I was maybe three. It was the first time I realized people lived in houses with garages and two cars. I mean, I knew Granda did. But I thought he was special. I thought most people lived in apartments.”

  “That would be weird, but I guess in most major cities, people do live in apartments or flats.”

  “I enjoyed living in the city, but I see why people want to move out and have more room. If it wasn’t so expensive to move to one of the suburbs, I think I would.” Especially if I had a family. The thought nearly choked Sean. Where had that come from? What about his vow to never fall in love and marry? Love hurt. Mom had been a mess for so long after 9/11.

  “I think this is our exit. Do you want me to turn on the GPS so we can find the store?”

  Sean was glad his thoughts were interrupted. “Why don’t you. I don’t think I have been here before.”