Portrait


by Leslie Moore

Chapter Ten

Two weeks later, we had our sketches in hand and made an appointment with a local architect. We were riding in the cab to her office while Matt was walking me through the complexities of starting a tax-free charity, a limited liability corporation, and the joy of working with lawyers.

After five minutes, I asked him to stop. “I’m getting a headache. But one question. Who is going to do all of this?”

Matt nodded and put everything away. “Mother’s lawyers. She insisted that they be in charge if she was going to give up her money.”

“She’s in on all of this?”

“Yep. And that’s why Mother wants her lawyers involved. But that’s good. The Foundation has will be examined and rechecked over a thousand times before it happens. It looks like we’re going to need staffing and the family trust will be happy to pick up the slack and provide us a location and a few people to answer the phone. So it can all happen in six months.”

I rolled down the window for a bit of fresh air. Fresh air in Brooklyn? How desperate was I getting? I was feeling claustrophobic. “It’s a bit intense, Matt.” I looked around. “How far to Sheila’s office?”

Matt looked at his GPS. “Almost there. Move closer to me, and I’ll protect you from the goonies.”

I snuggled in like a child on a stormy night. I was starting to feel better.

We pulled up to Sheila DiNardo’s architectural firm. It was about the size of my building with a shop downstairs and living space up. It was typical Brooklyn.

Walking in, I immediately felt at home. She had a beautiful touch with her layout and decorating. I felt a kinship.Which only got better when I saw her ring and noticed the pictures of she and her wife on her desk.

By the time she looked through our sketches, photos, and the plot plans she was cooing with delight. “This is wonderful. I love your ideas and don’t think this is going to take much effort to do. One suggestion comes to mind. Why not put your art studio on northeast the corner of your old lot? It’s got perfect exposure and will anchor your yard nicely. If you put it right in the middle it breaks up the flow.”

We looked at each other and wondered why we didn’t think of that. We smiled.

“Another thing would be, and I’m only suggesting, that you do the studio in an Arts and Crafts period. It would contrast nicely with the Victorian and your Italianate garden and provide a reduced scale for a two-story building. An Italianate building would look too imposing. You’d have the same interior space and the smaller windows downstairs would mean not having to close off all the light when you’re watching TV.”

“And you’d have an unobstructed view of the yard from your new bedroom in the Victorian. And another point. If you rent out the smaller house to me, I’d run my office in the downstairs and my wife and I could live upstairs. We’d cede over our outside privileges when you want to have gallery shows, too. We need it for four years until we retire and move back to California.”

Sheila continued. “I’m being evicted from here and need new digs for my office and my home. I wouldn’t change anything in your office and house and look forward to our black lab meeting your Spinoni. Her name is Jade.”

Matt and I looked at each other. We smiled.

Sheila grinned back. “I think we need to add some more living space above your new back porch so Caroline will get her quiet back room when she doesn’t want to be out on the porch. I recommend you glass that in and heat it. Let it serve as a buffer when the cold winds blow. Maybe add two more fireplaces, one up and one down. I’m going to recommend gas for those two.”

“I’ll design your art studio first so your builder can start soon. Did I mention that my wife’s brother is going to be the best builder you’d ever want? And if we say yes to everything today, I’ll get him to get your permits and start in two weeks.”

We shook and started to talk terms and a schedule. We’d give Mrs. McCathy notice and more money right away. After talking to her, it sounded like she’d be happy to move out to California tomorrow.

We sat in a bar across the street. My hands were shaking.

“Did all that just fall into place? Are we smart?”

Matt laughed. He’d just been researching the builder online. “It’s all amazing. You get a four-year tenant. We get a creative design and a good contractor with a five-star rating. It sounds great.”

Two weeks later, the first thing the contractor did was change Mabel’s fence. Temporarily, Mabel would enjoy Mrs. McCarthy’s yard and all her flowers. She was watching her old yard through chicken wire while the builders started a grand two-story studio in the back of the property.

Since our house was going to be untouched, we watched as another team of workers started redoing the flower shop. All the beautiful Victorian details were saved and restored, but everything else would be redone to modern code requirements while a new porch and my new sitting room added on.

Every day, I was surrounded by building noise and contractors pouring all over the property. After four weeks, they were making great progress and I was starting to show signs of shell shock. Just about the time I was thinking about taking a long walk, Matt appeared right before lunch.

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself. Did you come to take me out of here for lunch? I’m getting weary of all this activity.”

“Better. I’ve got a bag full of hoagies and a nice white wine. The three of us are going for a picnic in the park.”

“Ice cream for dessert?”

“Funny, that’s the first thing Mabel asked when I told her.”

As we sat there in the relative quiet of the park, Mathew looked at me carefully.

“What?”

“I was thinking. Can you carve out two weeks off from work right now?”

“You mean off as in leave and go away?”

“Yep.”

I thought about it. I had several assignments in the works. I knew I had enough contracts that I didn’t have to worry about losing any future business. “I could if I had a few days to prep it would be no problem. What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking two weeks in Maine. I know someone who has a great place in a gorgeous cove. They’ve bought some of my work. I called them. We could bring Mabel, hike, and just enjoy the peace and quiet. I’d like to paint while we’re up there.

While our building budget seems to have gone up in flames with all the extras, I think we can afford to swing it. We’d borrow a car and give ourselves a food allowance. If we watched our budget, we can do it.”

“Wait. What happened to the billionaire playboy? No yacht, no limo, no private seaplane?”

Matt laughed. “Would Mabel like to arrive by sea?”

“Not really. But, I might.”

“Shades of fifty. You’ve obviously been reading the third book. My, my. Should I have my whips and chains sent up there along with my paints, Mrs. Grey?”

“I’m wondering about ice cream and maybe lobster.”

“I’ll give you the best. Mount Desert Island Ice Cream in Bar Harbor and Red’s Eats for lobster roll in Wiscasset.”

“I’ll start to pack.”