Chapter One

I was working in my office when Matt called. I smiled thinking about our morning as I said hello.

He didn’t sound good when he greeted me. He came right to the point. “Hey, babe. Bad news. I’m broke again.” His voice sounded pained.

I frowned. Mathew was a challenge, but he was my challenge. I tried to stay calm. He needed to hear calm. “Tell me.”

“Well. Man, this sucks.” He paused and I could hear him getting control. “I got a call from the bank this morning and went over. I talked to John. You’ve met him. He oversees the family accounts. He told me I’m way overdrawn and that mother refused to balance me up.”

“Uh-huh. Did you talk to your mother?”

“I called and her secretary told me she’d see me today for a late lunch. I have to go. Will you come with me?”

I cursed to myself. Lunch with Matt’s mom meant a whole afternoon lost. But the end, I’d have indigestion and have to work late into the night to get a project ready for my customer. I sighed inwardly. “Sure. I’ll have to come home and change. I don’t want to wear jeans.”

“Great! I’m going to get a shower now. The good news is I’ve been working this morning.”

“Good. I can’t wait to see what you’re working on.”

“It’s just another portrait of you.”

“You are too sweet. Well, I’ll stop in the studio before I come upstairs.”

“Do that. Should I wait to shower with you?”

“No. Go ahead. It’ll take me an hour to clean up and then I want to walk home. It’s too nice a day.”

“Okay. See you in a while. Of course, she's sending the car for us around two.”

It took me about sixty minutes to rough in the layout for the ad. After I worked on it tonight, I’d see that it got out tomorrow. I want to keep my customer happy.

When I was done, I capped all the inks and cleaned the pens. I let the dog out and made sure her water bowl was full. I locked up and walked the six blocks to Matt’s condo. I pressed the elevator button for the third floor so I could stop off at his studio.

In the middle of the big room near a wall of northern exposure windows sat his large easel. He was half done the portrait. Mathew had become obsessed with my face and I didn’t want to deny him that pleasure. After all, it had been a year since he’d paid for my surgery and we both knew that I wouldn’t be half as pretty without the work.

Others liked his work too. This year, he’d sold twelve pieces. Three were portraits he’d painted of me. He painted whatever interested him. The gallery in Manhattan that represented him always wanted anything he did. All his work was selling and for good money, too.

I stood and studied the painting for a few minutes. I remembered when he’d set up the appointments and paid for my operation in advance. He chose the most expensive team to do the work. My old face was hidden deep in that portrait. But, a lot had changed.

My Adam’s apple was gone. My jawline was reduced and completely reshaped. Naturally, the brow lift changed my forehead and eyes. And my nose looked more like my sister’s now. I loved my new cheekbones, too. Between my weight loss, the estrogen, and the surgery no-one would ever guess that I had been born male. Mathew had insisted on perfection and I loved looking perfect for him.

I sighed. Who would have ever thought I would be so lucky in love? We’d met in a bar eighteen months ago. He was so drunk he needed to be carried out before the bouncers called the police. Matt was an angry drunk and that night was a bad one. He was about to get in a fight with the manager. I stepped in-between them. I didn’t know him but I sensed a good person under the alcoholic haze that was controlling his mood.

I persuaded the staff to help me get him into a taxi. I took my rescue home with me that night. I made sure he was still breathing when I left him on my couch and brought the dog in my bedroom. Then I carefully locked my bedroom door. In the morning, he was still out when I got up to make my breakfast and brew my tea.

I heard a sorrowful voice call out to me. “Miss, do you have any coffee?”

“I do. How do you like it?”

“Black with two sugars, thanks.”

He was back to sleep by the time it finished brewing. I left the coffee in the French press with the sugar packets by the side of the cup. I wrote a note saying my workspace was on the ground floor and to stop and say goodbye as he was leaving.

When he knocked on my door jam to get my attention, he looked like the typical drunk trying to clear his head.

“Thank you. The coffee was good. I appreciate you keeping me out of jail last night. The sober part of my brain knew I was behaving poorly, but the drunk part was winning.”

I smiled. I always felt sorry for homeless cats and dogs. He was pretty sorrowful looking. “Do you need a couple bucks for the bus?”

“Oh, yeah. No. I’ve got a ride home. I meant to ask you. Where am I?”

“You’re in Brooklyn. You were in Uncle Sally’s Bar last night.”

“Yeah, Right. I knew where I was. But, why were you there?”

“I’m trans. It’s a safe place to drink with friends.”

He looked me over for a long minute. Then he held out his hand. “I’m Mathew.”

I shook his hand. His grip was surprisingly steady for a drunk. “Caroline.”

“Well, Caroline. Thank you for the rescue and the use of your couch. I will find a way to show my appreciation. Do you have a business card with your address?”

I handed him my card and watched as he studied it.

He smiled and left. He stood outside for a while. When I looked up the next time he was gone.

Chapter Two

Two days after I extricated him from a fight at Uncle Sally’s Bar, Matt was standing in my doorway.

He had showered and dressed nicely. He had a grin on his face and a small package in his hand. The robin’s egg blue (Pantone 1837) gift wrap paper and the silver ribbon (Pantone 1077) was a dead giveaway to its origins.

I was sitting at my drafting board working on a presentation for a potential client. I’m a graphic artist, a one-woman company.

This was my first chance to examine who I’d rescued. He was six feet tall, attractive face, and with a well-developed body. His hair was a bit shaggy.

He stepped forward and carefully set the Tiffany’ package on my drafting board. “Hi, Caroline. Remember me from the other night? I’m Matt.” He grinned.

He had a perfect smile that would melt any girl’s heart. And those dimples sealed the deal. I couldn’t help but smile back.

I’m old-fashioned. I can use my computer but I find comfort in pens and inks. I was making a storyboard for my presentation. I was sitting there coloring and listening to music. It’s a tough life.

I went back to school to learn to use the serious computer drawing tools. I’ve mastered enough to get by but envy the kids today who can handle technology so skillfully.

I hope to hire a talented young art school graduate next. Then I could take on more work, expand my business, and make more money. Now, I’m limited to what I produce.

Mathew stood there looking over my office.

My storefront is twenty feet deep and fifteen feet wide. I work right up front and have comfy couches and chairs in a living room setting behind my workspace. My studio looks like a living room. Behind my conference area is a spacious kitchen and a powder room. Out back I have a nice garden and patio. Upstairs I have a sitting room, a bedroom, and a bath.

Most people are put off by my right-brained style. They assume graphic design means a minimalist cutting edge lifestyle. Everyone thinks all graphic designers are in love with Bauhaus and Charlie Eames. They expect to see chrome, glass, and black granite. People expect me to look like a Euro-trash hipster with piercings, tats, and an asymmetrical hairstyle. That’s not me but it’s a great way to cut to the chase. You either like me and my style or you don’t.

Mathew touched the two Bougainvillea trellising up the walls in my storefront window. He glanced at the gold leaf lettering (Kozuka Gothic Pro) advertising my business. 8th Avenue Graphic Designs. He walked over to my grandmother’s pine corner cupboard filled with jars and clay pots of my art supplies.

My storage units were painted Shaker reproductions. My music came from an authentic 1971 mid-century modern RCA stereo console. He smiled when he saw the dog bed and looked at me curiously.

I didn’t have to look in the doorway to the kitchen. I knew my fur face stood there in the shadows watching him. Mabel was waiting for my signal.

I turned and said, ‘bene’. She came forward to sniff. An Italian Spinone is like a German Wirehair Pointer only much more fun. Matt reached down and rubbed her head. She looked up at me and I nodded.

Mathew laughed when she leaned into him encouraging his scratching. He was smart enough not to stop. He looked up. “What’s her name?”

“Mabel.”

He dropped to his knees and used both hands to rub her face. He started to coo and say her name. She shook her rump and wagged her tail. No one can resist a Spinone face. My brown and white baby is gorgeous.

But, I’ve heard her growl and seen her ready to attack, too. She’s a whole different dog when the hair raises on her back and she shows her teeth. She has a great throaty growl and a nice deep bark. I knew if someone strange walked in off the street, it would only take one word from me, ‘merda’, to prove her bite was worse than her bark.

He was still scratching Mabel when he said, “I came by to thank you for the good night’s sleep. I figured you saved me from a night in the drunk tank and having to make bail the next morning. I appreciate your assistance.”

I sat there watching him scratch Mabel and shrugged. “I like helping people.”

“Well, I feel like I owe you. I wanted to take you to lunch.”

“You are too kind. A gift and lunch?”

“Yes. I wanted to show you something.”

I stared and waited to hear what he was going to say.

There was that smile again. “It’s a surprise. I have a car outside.”

I thought about it. And then an idea came to mind. It was my turn to smile. “Only if we can take Mabel.”

He thought for a minute and grinned. Those dimples showed up again. “Of course. Is she going to be our chaperone?”

I stood up and started to clean off my desk. Mabel was at my side the whole time. A minute later, I grabbed my pocketbook then picked up her collar and leash. “Ready.” I smiled.

There was a huge limo out front complete with a driver. He graciously opened the door for Mabel and me. He smiled warmly as the three of us climbed in. I learned later it was a Maybach.

Mathew was grinning. “It’s mothers. She never uses it and she’d die to know we were taking Mabel to lunch.”

We crossed over the river and into Manhattan. We pulled up in front of Tavern on the Green. The three of us had lunch outside under an umbrella at a table for two. They brought a pan of water for the dog and I had a crab cake and a glass of white wine.

After Matt signed the check, we walked two blocks up Central Park West to a gallery on 67th Street. Inside, a beautiful woman greeted us.

“Oh, Mr. Statler, it’s good to see you. We’ve sold another piece.” She had an English accent. She was model beautiful and dressed like she was going straight to a cocktail party in her little black dress and three-inch stilettos.

“Which one?” Matt looked excited.

“The Loeb Boathouse. The big one.” She was all eyes for Matt.

Matt smiled. “Lisa, this is my new friend Caroline and this is Mabel.”

Lisa smiled at me. “I love Spinones.”

Matt took my hand and led me back to a painting. It was a very large landscape of Central Park. The card had a red sticker on it. “This one just sold.”

I looked carefully and saw the artist was Mathew Statler. I turned and looked at Matt. He nodded. Then I looked around the gallery. All the paintings were his.

He whispered in my ear. “You saw me at my worst. I wanted to show you the better side of me.”

We spent an hour walking around the gallery studying his portraits and landscapes. He had a gift. His work was amazing. Most of the paintings had red stickers on them.

“How long did it take you to paint all of these?”

Matt thought for a minute. “I do one show a year here. So this is pretty much the last twelve months of my life.”

I smiled.

Chapter Three

As we walked along through the park with Mabel, we both enjoyed the warmth from the afternoon sky.

Matt turned to me with a smile. “So what did you think?”

I smiled back. “I think that Lisa is hot for you. I think your paintings are beautiful. I’m impressed with your talent and I wonder what it’s like to stand there and look at all you’ve accomplished in a year’s time.”

Matt didn’t say anything. I assumed he was digesting the large lump I’d just handed him. “Okay. Thanks for the compliment.”

We watched Mabel as we headed through the park and away from the street and traffic. I slipped her off her lead and she stopped. She turned to me and I nodded.

As soon as I nodded she moved about thirty feet away and started putting her nose to the ground and trotting. We watched her for a few minutes without talking.

“Would you go out with me on a date?” He glanced at me when he asked.

I looked at him and shook my head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“Well, first because I’m trans and well, it’s just not right to tease someone into thinking I can perform what they want.”

“How do you know what I want?”

“I don’t. But, if we remain friends then we don’t have to find out. And there’s more.”

He smiled. “Oh?”

“If we went out, I think I’d feel the need to either reform you or defend you.”

He smiled. “Well, that sounds like a maybe.”

I looked at him. “I’ve seen you twice. Once where you were a falling down mean drunk ready to get into a fight with anyone. And the second time today when you are a delight.”

He nodded. “I’ve wondered why’d you bring me home that night?”

“Well, I didn’t know what to do with you after I got you into a cab. I didn’t think you were able to take care of yourself so I brought you home.”

“Were you afraid of me then?”

“Yes, I was. But Mabel was right there the whole time. Normally, she sleeps downstairs in the kitchen. That night, she was in bed with me. All I would have to do was call her.”

He nodded. “Yep. What do you say when you’re in trouble?”

“Merda”

He nodded.

“It means shit in Italian.” I whistled to Mabel and she came running back. She looked at me and sat. I patted her and hooked her back up. We both continued to walk.

“So you’d need to train me like you trained Mabel?”

I laughed. “Only if we were dating. But, if we stayed friends, then you could be who you need to be.”

“So, let me get this straight. You’d date the second version of me, but not the pathetic drunk?”

“No.” I smiled. “I’m not going to date you because I am trans. I would love to have you as a friend, but being a transsexual has its own baggage. From the looks of you, you don’t need any more baggage in your life.”

“How can you say that when you’ve only met me two times?”

“No one gets so wasted drunk, so angry drunk unless they own lots of baggage. You’re probably a sweet, wonderful, sensitive, caring person. But, your problems must be wrapped tightly around your core. You don’t need my ups and downs mixed up in your life.”

He looked at me and stopped. We stood there on the sidewalk.

I kept talking. “Seriously. If we were friends, I could help you, care for you, and bolster you up when you’re down. And we’d be able to stay friends. But dating would just fuck it up.”

“You’ve never been in love, have you?”

I had to think about that. “I’ve held myself back from that kind of attachment. I do just fine. But when a guy pretends to like you because he wants to experience gay sex and it seems easier with someone trans, then I get my heart broken. So, no. I don’t fall in love.”

Matt got a bit defensive. “I’m that kind of guy? I want to date you just to experience gay sex?”

I had said too much and I wanted to take it back. I put my hand on Matt’s arm. “I’m sorry, Matt. I don’t know if you’re that kind of guy. I just don’t think that I’m secure enough to date a handsome guy who has beautiful women throwing themselves at him. I don’t know what I have to offer a guy who’s obviously rich and very talented. I can’t compete. I don’t know anything. I can’t afford to be hurt.” I was at the point of breaking down and crying right there in traffic. I could feel Mabel getting agitated and pulling on her leash. I think we were both at a breaking point.

Through my tears, I just wanted to run away from all of this. Sometimes being so honest is frustrating. I think I was at my breaking point. “I’m going to catch a cab. I think we’ve had enough today.” I went to raise my hand.

Matt reached over and pulled my hand down and held it. “I’m sorry, too. I just wanted you to say yes so we could continue being together this way. I want to talk again with you and ask you again, but I will be happy to be your friend in the meantime. Please let me take you home.”

I was wiping the tears from my eyes before they started to fall. I told Mabel to heel and then said bene. We walked back outside the gallery and climbed into the big car.

As we rode along, Matt whispered in my ear. “I think you’re beautiful. I think you’re honest. I know you are kind. You helped me when I was dealing with my demons and gave me your couch. I am better than that night. I can be trained. I can remain celibate if you’ll just kiss me and let me hold you. I just want to be with you.”

I looked at him like he was crazy. Beautiful? Who was he looking at?

Chapter Four

The ride home was quiet. Mabel looked out the window. She was curious. I wondered how many cars she’d been in. Her first owner trained her himself. They gave her up when their newborn started having allergies. Mabel was two when I got her. We’d been together for three years.

After adoption, I promised to make her feel secure for the rest of her life. I was seventeen when I was pushed out. My father, the minister, had given up trying to pray the gay out of me. When I announced I was trans, that was their last straw.

I was headed to Rhode Island School of Design thanks to a scholarship. My parents politely told me good luck and not to return.

It was ironic. Instead of feeling the loss of a family, I felt all the pressure lifting from my shoulders. I finally could be me, a complete person. I arrived at RISD feeling like a five-year-old going to her first birthday party.

We watched the traffic whiz by. I turned to Matt. “Your credibility goes down a notch when you refer to me as beautiful.”

He shook his head. He took out his phone. He showed me a Picasso nude, a Botticelli, a Sandys, Frank Benson’s, and a Degas. He smiled. “None of these paintings fit the modern day definition of beauty. Mona Lisa Giocondo could not have gotten a cover on Vogue but millions stand in line each year to admire her face.”

I laughed and shook my head.

Matt held my hand and looked into my eyes. He touched my face while he talked. “You are beautiful. Wonderful skin, gorgeous eyes, lush hair, and generous lips. And that’s just the superficial part of you. I want to get to know you better.”

He had a knack for making me believe his words. But sanity returned. I didn’t want to be hypnotized by his fast talk. I murmured, “We’ll be friends.”

Matt didn’t stop staring. “I want more. What about love?”

I shook my head and turned away. “You throw around a lot of wonderful words. You call me beautiful. You use the word love. You’re sounding like a complete bullshitter. Let it go.”

Matt was smart enough to stop.

As we pulled up to my office, the driver stopped the limo, got out, then held the door open for Mabel and me. I thanked him. I waved goodbye to Matt. He looked like someone was punishing him.

I stuck my head inside the open door. “Hey.”

He looked at me. His face was blank.

I leaned into the car right in his face. I smiled. “Thank you for lunch. And thank you for the gift. I enjoyed seeing your work and taking our walk into Central Park. I am looking forward to getting to know you better.”

He tried to smile. “Me, too.” He stared at me and sighed.

I reminded myself that he was a spoiled man used to getting his way. Money, talent, and good looks evidently gave him a free ride. He must get everything he wants, I thought as I walked up to my door.

Mabel waited while I unlocked the door. When we got inside and I was hanging out the open sign, the big black limo drove away.

I reminded myself that I wasn’t fifteen and susceptible to teenage crushes. I was a grown-up woman who knew what was best for her. I pushed away the fantasy of being in his arms and fed Mabel her dinner. As I leaned against the kitchen counter, I tried to focus on something else. It wasn’t working. He was a catch.

As we drove over the Brooklyn Bridge, I shook myself out of my flashback. Eighteen months ago, I met this man. Now, I was riding in his mother’s car headed to see the old crone and provide him moral support.

Our ride across the bridge and into the city was uneventful. It’s fun to gaze out at the scenery. The upper west side of New York is lush with beautiful high rise apartment buildings, marvelous boutiques, museums, galleries, restaurants, and Central Park.

Sidney pulled the Maybach over to the curb and the doorman opened my side. We rode up the elevator in silence. I could feel the tension radiating off of Mathew. We smiled at each other but I could see the anxiety on his face the closer we got to her lair.

I could almost smell the fire and brimstone as we walked down the hall to the apartment. She and her late husband purchased a second apartment on that floor to make room for their growing family. When Mathew left and his dad died, his mother had the rooms redecorated. If Mathew wanted to stay the night, there was always a sterile guest room he could use temporarily.

Mathew went to the Maryland Institute of Art. After he graduated he used his small trust fund to move out. Fortunately, he made enough money selling his paintings to stay almost independent.

Mathew refused to take money from me even though we were together. My graphic arts business was expanding and doing well. I started renting out my second floor home through Airbnb and VRBO to pay off my mortgage early. I banked the rest of my money.

The maid opened the door and ushered us into the foyer. “Mrs. Statler will be with you shortly. May I get you a beverage?”

We both smiled and said we were fine. Mathew’s mother was fond of importing Irish girls as her domestic help. We sat down and waited.

Mathew whispered to me, “I feel like a stranger in here. She’s redecorated again.”

I didn’t have a chance to answer before Helen Statler walked into the room. We both stood. I couldn’t get the grin off my face. It was like greeting the fucking queen. I tried not to laugh or curtsey.

Helen looked at her son but not at me. Boy, she was a piece of work.

“I had Briana set the third plate. I knew you’d bring your little friend along.” Then she turned and looked at me like I had an infectious disease. “Caroline, how are you?”

I nodded. “I am fine, Mrs. Statler. It’s nice to see you again.” She didn’t care how I was. I could have told her I was hemorrhaging internally and she would reply, ‘that’s nice’.

I loved the way she emphasized the word Caroline like I stole the name and she wanted it back. Mrs. Statler didn’t like having to acknowledge that I was transgender. In her mind, her son was living with a freak. She once told Mathew that she was tired of him bringing a drag queen into her home. She referred to me a man wearing women’s clothes, but not to my face. She knew I would have slapped her. I draw a line.

Mathew later related the conversation. He told her that he wouldn’t come by anymore to visit. It was then that she actually apologized. He defended me and told her that I was more of a woman than she was.

Chapter Five

Lunch with Mrs. Statler was always a test. It was a real challenge to ignore her dour attitude. She truly tried your patience with everything she said. She asked questions just to see if she could raise your ire. She said what she was thinking as if all her filters had left with aging. She just sounded crazy.

Helen Statler was richer than most third world countries. If she wasn't loaded, she would have been locked up years ago. Instead, she sponsored charity fundraisers and supported the worst politicians. People fawned over her words like they were jewels. I thought she was a waste of oxygen.

But, Matthew Statler was my boyfriend and was important to me. After knowing him for six months, I lifted my own ban on dating him and turned my inner woman lose. After all that time working hard to be my friend, I felt sorry for him. I ran over him like a truck at high speed. I thought about the Black Widow spider who eats her mate after sex or was it the Praying Mantis?

That’s what kept the smile on my face while I ignored Helen’s babble about ‘what was wrong with the country today’. Or was it, ‘Did you know what I saw the other day? And they were holding hands and kissing in public.’ Instead, I thought about the raw sex that Matt and I had while we were getting ready to visit for lunch. I wondered what she’d say if I described how we did it standing up in my closet with me holding the reinforced clothes rod and my legs over his shoulders.

Fortunately, I had already received my third degree. Earlier, she’d looked me over and complimented my pleated skirt. Then, she wanted to know if it was wearing a poly blend. I sighed and said it was cotton and silk.

“Oh that’s right, you don’t like chemically based fabrics on your skin. I’ve wondered why you people are so anxious to fill yourself full of artificially made estrogens if you don’t like synthetics.”

Matt cut her off with a steely voice simply saying, “Mother.”

I almost wanted to laugh. “Well, Mrs. Statler, we all have to make choices. I wasn’t fortunate enough to have my body provide the correct hormones.”

I could look her in the eye and do my best to stay glib as I thought about how I screamed with pleasure burying my face in a heavy winter coat as her son brought me to orgasm less than two hours ago. I smiled and shrugged.

When Helen failed at getting a rise from me, she switched over to Mathew. “Oh yes, Matthew. So after our banker contacted me, he told me you wanted one hundred thousand dollars and that you were overdrawn on next years trust fund too.”

She stared as Mathew sat there looking at her like she was a stain on his tie. The two of them had years of practice glaring at each other. Fortunately Mathew saved his best glares for his mom, the Beast Master, herself.

“I want to make an investment.” He said.

“Are you going to tell me what it is?”

Mathew shook his head. “No.”

“Well, tell me why should I just give you another hundred thousand dollars then?”

Mathew always saved his best for last. I was thankful that we didn’t have this type of relationship. “Mother, I am thirty-one years old. When I turned thirty, I could have gotten a lawyer and challenged you for one half of father’s estate and won. I don’t think a court would turn me down. But I didn’t. I didn’t want to expose the family name in the papers and shine a light on you. I’ve lived very comfortably on what I earn through my paintings and the trust. But, I have an opportunity to make an investment in my future.”

His mother stared.

“So it’s simple, mom. You can write a check and cover my overdrafts for next year’s trust and add a hundred grand to sweeten the pot or you can wait for me to petition the court and I will take half of everything you have. It’s your choice.”

Helen looked at him and smiled. “Well, why didn’t you simply say so, honey. Of course, I will call John and give him those instructions.”

“Today?”

“Yes, dear.” She sighed for dramatic effect. “Today.”

Matt stood and pulled my chair out for me. “Well, mother. Thank you for lunch but we must be going. Caroline has work to do.”

Helen looked at me with a feral grin. “How is 8th Avenue Graphics Designs doing?”

I looked down at her and smiled as I thought, we won! “Thank you for asking, Helen. It’s keeping me busy.”

One of her Irish lassies showed us out and we were back in the Maybach before we could thank all the angels for rescuing us from the Queen of all that is dead and dismembered.

When we were safely in the car and moving along, Matt whispered to me. “Usually, this is when I like to get blind drunk and go looking for a fight.” He chuckled and grabbed me in an embrace.

I laughed a real laugh. “She does bring the best out in people.” I told him about what I concentrated on while I sat there. While I was retelling the details of our sexual heat in the closet, I put my hand on his crotch and felt him respond.

I kissed him hard on the lips. “We go home and go to the gym. Five miles of cardio and then we can practice kickboxing together. I might let you win this time.”

He laughed and kissed me back. I could see the dark mood had passed. “You’re on. But, I’m not going to hold back. I’m not going to let you win.”

I grinned. “Like I let you win in the closet today?”

Chapter Six

When Sidney dropped us off at the curb, I was mentally putting together what I’d need to do tonight for the business tomorrow. Since I couldn’t come up with any pressing work that couldn’t wait, I just followed Matt upstairs to change for a workout. I think he needed me more than my clients.

One of the perks of living in Brooklyn was I could change in the condo and run to the gym along an attractive jogging path through our park. We changed and skipped the elevator. We ran down the stairwell to the ground level.

As we burst out the side doors, I gave Matt a playful shove giving me a decent head start down the sidewalk. I got the crossing light and was in the park in ten steps. I was sprinting until I found my rhythm sliding into an easy cadence. I could keep this pace up for the two miles through the park to our gym. I could hear Matt struggling to keep up with me.

I gave a glance back and Matt was trying to force himself into catching up with me. I slowed briefly to let him come alongside. Matt had strength but I had him beat in cardio. I grinned. All those toned muscles were heady to drag along.

I smiled and gave him an encouraging moment. “C’mon, big boy. You’re not trying to find your center and you’re beating yourself up. Stop worrying about catching me and find your inner pace. Once you have that, then challenge me.” I knew what would happen next. He would try to reach out and grab me to throw me off stride. He did have the bulk to push me around.

As he reached out, I pushed off his hand and gained a step. I dug in and took a few strides to take a longer lead. I heard him grunt and breath harder.

I laughed and turned my head. “You can’t catch me ‘cause I’m the gingerbread man.”

As we drew up a slight rise, I could see the gym right across the street. I stopped at the light and heard Matt coming up behind me. He was breathing hard.

“You cheat.” He shot out the words between breaths.

I laughed. “I take any advantage. All’s fair in love.” I kissed his cheek as we stopped outside to collect our wits.

We walked into the gym together and an hour later, walked out together. We stopped to purchase healthy smoothies and strolled our way back home.”

As we window shopped, I turned and put my arm on his sweat-stained shirt and chest. “What investment?”

He looked me in the eyes and smiled. “Well, I have two investments perking out there.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

“You and the building next store to your shop.”

“Mrs. McCarthy’s flower shop? She’s finally retiring?”

Mathew nodded. “She’s retiring and moving to Florida. I’ve been chatting with her for six months. I’m going to buy the building and help establish an annuity for her.”

“What’s the other investment?”

“I was going to take you to Thailand to talk to a doctor.”

I stopped dead in my tracks.

“I’m your investment?”

“Only what you want.”

I thought about that. I’d put off thinking about that last surgery for a number of reasons. The first reason was money and the second reason was I was frightened. I’d never given it the thought it was due. I guess I really forgot about it.

That’s funny how you think you need something and then you sleep on it and don’t anymore. Well, I have never gone back to revisit the topic.

“I need to get my shit together. I’ll need to start going back to Crystal. I haven’t talked to her in a while and I want to have some sessions and work through some stuff before thinking about that kind of thing. Hell, I’ve just finally recovered from my face.” That was true. The swelling around my nose hadn’t disappeared until six months ago.

Matt shrugged. “The offer stands. The money’s there if and when you want to use it.”

Oh wow, I thought. I’m twenty-seven and my sugar daddy’s thirty-one. That sure doesn’t fit the norms. Maybe his need to take care of me included owning me, too.

Did I want to be owned? All I could think about was a book like Fifty Shades. I wasn’t needy enough to fit the profile. Of course, we’d never experimented with toys or bondage. I wondered if there was a dark side to us?

As we walked around, I tried hard to picture all of this. I knew I wasn’t ready for another vacation of recovery and wondered about all the mechanics of the surgical procedures. I’m sure I could Google it. I really needed to brush up on what’s out there. I hadn’t looked into SRS really carefully. And the bottom line, excuse the pun, was who was I doing this for?

So, I wasn’t about to get into the whole mind thing of relationships and him paying for me. I tried to understand what it meant to always have too much money. I guess I needed to go back and read the 50 Shade books again. Maybe I could give up my day job and just write novels. I laughed.

Matt looked at me. “Hey. Whatcha thinking?”

“What are you going to do with the flower shop? You’re planing to go into business?”

Matt shrugged. “I never thought of it. I was just looking at all the possibilities of what we might do. We could rent out the flower shop and redo the second floor and look at her backyard for expansion.”

“Her yard is bigger than mine. And her lot is bigger, too.”

Matt nodded. “I’m going to sell off the condo spaces or mortgage against them. I have to talk to someone first. The market is up and I’ll have no problem there.”

“If you’re selling your condo, why’d you visit the cash cow today?”

He shook his head. “Good question. Maybe to piss her off? Maybe to reshuffle the power structure? Maybe to remind her that I exist?”

I turned to him and shook my head. I put a hand on his chest and brought him to a halt. I stood next to him and whispered in his ear. “How much money is in that trust?”

He looked at me and laughed. “You want me for my money?”

I coughed and then covered my mouth. “Yeah. That’s it. I’ve been stringing you on just for your money.”

It was a joke because while Matt paid our way, I still went to work and paid all my business bills. He’s never tried to change my world to suit his terms. When I was with him, he picked up the tab. But, he’s never paid my way.

He thought for a minute. “The market’s good right now. I’ll bet its worth five hundred million or maybe more. It’s funny that you should ask. I haven’t checked into it for a few years.”

I froze. “Huh?”

Matt grinned. “My half. Right? Mother’s half is totally tied up in father’s business stock. Her’s is probably worth almost twice what mine is worth. My half is much more stable and less volatile. And you know she’ll pay off my debt to the bank and the cash I asked for from my side of the estate. She won’t touch hers for me.”

“Jezz, Matt. What are you planning on doing with that money?”

He hesitated. He sighed. He fidgeted. “I don’t have much choice. When I turn thirty-five, it’s all changed over into my name. I’m stuck with it.”

I didn’t know any of this until just this second. I knew he was a trust fund baby but never had any idea of the specifics. It gave me a giddy feeling to know someone that rich. Especially the guy who could provide me with such nice orgasms.

He looked out into space as he led me up our steps. “I’m going to put most of it into a large trust and use the interest to underwrite good causes. I want to develop a system where we can help non-profits with gifts and provide scholarships each year to individuals. I want to help underprivileged kids afford school and Vets get small business loans. You know, that kind of thing.”

“No yacht? No private plane?”

He laughed and smiled. “You want that kind of shit? Do you want to be Mrs. Gray?”

I laughed. “Do you want me to be your slave, Mr. Gray?”

Chapter Seven

Matt skewed my whole world in one fell swoop. When he told me he was worth a half a billion dollars I didn’t know what to do or say.

This world is all supposed to make sense, right? I mean, do all fairy tales deserve a happily ever after? I don’t know. No, really. I do know my world stopped that day.

I have no concept of what a half a billion dollars is. If you live in New York you hear about people who have millions or billions of dollars. But, my income is less than a hundred thousand dollars a year and I save my paperclips. I eat leftovers. I put the cork back in wine.

What are you supposed to do when all your dreams suddenly can be fulfilled? When every thing is within your grasp? I never wanted to be rich. Sure, back when I was five I wanted to be magically changed into a girl and have parents that loved me. But, you don’t need millions of dollars to be loved.

When I was little, I had this reoccurring dream. It was where I fell into a large postal storage box. Those big green ones that used to sit on city street corners. How I fell in, I don’t know. But, I’d find myself sitting in one and next to me was this cute little girl, so pretty, delicate, and oh so sweet. We’d look at each other and I would change into her. I’d trade places. And then I’d be out of the mailbox and go to her house and become her. And I had this dream a lot. I never told anyone especially my father, the Reverend or my mom, the hand wringer.

But, I never felt abused unless you think about the Reverend being verbally insensitive. Actually, I take that back. I was smacked around a lot. I had a big mouth and spoke my mind. And my parents were so conservative you would have thought we grew up in the dark ages. So when I heard stupid things being said, I spoke up. I guess it was always the wrong time because I got pounded occasionally. But, back then, I thought I deserved that it was what was coming to me for being disrespectful. I hadn't learned that all men of God weren't like Jesus or Gandhi.

But, back to Matt and his thoughts of taking care of the downtrodden. I live in New York and we have homeless people with mental illness and poor people full of hopelessness everywhere. Have you worried about how many hungry kids go to bed without dinner? Or how many fathers and mothers fight over money instead of hugging their kids? Matt wanted to change that.

And Matt wanted to use his money to help fix those problems. It boggled my mind that he could have that much power. I got confused just trying to think about it. Especially when he mentioned that his mother had more than twice that much money and all she did was redecorate her large apartment and ride in a limousine.

But Mrs. Statler viewed money as the gateway to power.

We're all supposed to be happy in this is the modern age where diseases are treatable and technology can solve our problems. But, why is everything always tied up in knots and just a breath away from happening? I think I read it was Marshal McLuhan and McGill University that said we have enough food to feed everyone in the world but there’s a serious problem with distribution.

This is the kind of stuff that bothered me. And when Matt said he had enough money to put a dent in solving childhood hunger and taking care of needy people, I should have been excited.

But something screwed with my head that day and I was sad. Maybe it was visiting the Wicked Witch of Manhatten or hearing her insults. But I had that ashes taste in my mouth and was upset. Even on this sunny day, I felt a chill in my bones. I was shivering when I fell asleep spooning Matt.

Hours later, I was thrashing inside the bed covers. Well, actually I was tangled up and frightened. The same sheets and covers that Lisa, the babe from the art gallery, helped Matt pick out.

Eighteen months ago, when Matt and I met, I turned him down for a date. I said I just wanted to be friends. So for those first six months, Matt and I were just friends. Back then, I told him, actually encouraged him, to actively date others. I smiled when he told me about his women. Secretly, I was insanely jealous and wanted to go around and club them all to death. But I would nod and tell him how happy I was when all I wanted was jump on his bones, kiss his face,

Back then, we were supposed to be friends, just friends. I wanted to keep my distance. But, slowly I was falling in love with him. I wanted him. And after a while, it was all I could think about.

I yearned for the body that Miss Art Gallery was feasting on. I wanted to trade places with her. I even envied her English accent, her trim figure. and her beautiful face. I wanted to be whatever attracted Matt to her. I did like my hair better. Mine was thicker and healthier. Bleaching is not my thing.

We finally started dating and slowly I let him into my life and my world.

But this afternoon, when Matt told me how much he was worth, a strange thing happened. I felt it was the time to say goodbye to our relationship. I never realized he was that rich. I suddenly was suffering from insecurity. I felt I was not worthy of dating Matt anymore.

That same night, I had this terrible nightmare. Someone was chasing me. It was so dark I couldn’t see a face. Everything was hazy. I felt something grabbing at me. Matt was shaking me, assuring me everything was all right as he woke me from my nightmare.

But, even as I woke, it didn’t feel like everything was all right. I was wide awake and scared. I sat there on the edge of the bed and looked out the window and listened to the street noise.

I felt shaken. I had this underlying dread. I’m strong. I’ve persevered through all sorts of nonsense and weathered every shit storm tossed at me. I’ve been snubbed, called names, and shunned. I’ve heard slurs said behind my back. I was teased as a kid. And I lived through all of it and come back strong.

Sure, throw it at me. I’m steel. I’m tough. I can take it. But, in the night when everything is quiet and everyone is asleep, the monsters in my dreams shake me to my core. I feel slithery things on my skin while my feet were frozen in place.

I wasn’t going back to sleep. And sitting there was just stupid. I quietly told Matt I was going to go do some work. He offered to go with me and I told him I was fine.

I got up and put my clothes back on that I wore last night. Then I put on my coat and grabbed my keys. The walk back to the shop is short. The night air felt good. As I passed Mrs. McCarthy’s Flower Shop I looked at her building. It looked twice as big as mine and the lot was immense.

I fantasized about moving the business into the flower shop and hiring a few employees. I wondered what the second floor looked like. And Matt said something about building an addition in the back. I reminded myself to look at it tomorrow and to talk to Agnes McCarthy about where she was moving to in Florida.

I unlocked my side door and there was Mabel staring at me in the shadows of the kitchen light. I turned on the staircase light and we went upstairs to my bedroom. We both hopped on the bed and lay there together. I listened to Mabel’s breathing and had my hand on her heart. As we lay together I closed my eyes and fell back to sleep.

I woke when Matt climbed into bed with the two of us. He held me and when I turned to face him, he smiled. He kissed me softly on my lips and cover my face with gentle kisses.

“I love you, Caroline.”

I cried as I fell asleep.

Chapter Eight

The whole visit with Matt’s mom and finding about his inheritance still had me spinning.

For the next three days, I wandered around in a fog. I guess I got my work done. I guess I watered the plants. I know I fed Mabel, walked Mabel, and slept with Mabel.

Actually, Mabel was my salvation. I wanted to be with her and I told Matt that I wanted to be alone.

“Why are you punishing me?” He stood there staring at me with pain in his eyes.

I shook my head. “I love you, okay? But, right now, I’m all mixed up. I can’t be in charge of anyone else. I can’t handle my own confusion. I’m sliding down a well into the darkness and I don’t want to drag you along. I’m fucked up and it’s not fair to see you be swallowed down with me.”

Matt refused to leave. “I’ll just be in the other room. I need to prove to you that I love you. I’m a rock. I’m your rock.”

I wanted him to leave and let me have a pity party. I couldn’t succumb to the pain if he was here. I wanted to wallow and sob and bawl. I wanted to let it all go. I really wanted him out so that I could hate myself more. I felt like I needed to punish myself.

It really sucked. I knew what I was doing. I wanted to engulf myself in sadness. I wanted to listen to mournful songs and feel sorry for myself. I knew what I was doing and I knew that it was bad. I knew I should just straighten myself up and tugged myself back up again. Instead, I wanted to make fists and hold my breath and cry.

It was stupid. Like when you eat a whole bag of Doritos and you get nauseous. Then as soon as the sickness passes and you feel better and you eat more Doritos.

I stayed busy. During the day, I was normal. I was working on a set of matchbook covers for a group of bars and taverns. Right, you heard me. You’re asking who needs matches anymore? But these guys said that they were the greatest form of advertisement around and they wanted new designs. I was told that people still collected them.

Matt came by and watched over my shoulder. Mini pop art, I like it.

I guess I was lost in my work when Matt and Mabel came downstairs and entered my studio. I looked up. “Hey.”

Matt smiled. “Mabel and I are going out for a walk and ice cream. We voted that you had to come.”

I was still pissed at the world and was trying to think of some hateful thing to say. The best I could do was “Where are you going for ice cream?” I really wanted to know.

“Mabel wants to go to Howards.”

Howards is the best. Seriously, ask anyone in Brooklyn where the best ice cream is and they’ll tell you Howards. I stood up. “Okay. Give me a minute. I need to change.”

I went upstairs and realized I needed a shower and clean clothes. I wondered when was the last time I had cleaned up. I called down and asked if they would give me a few minutes.

A voice came back up. “Mabel says not to take all day.”

I was ready in record time. Well, I don’t know if it was Guinness Record time, but I was moving as fast as I could. I felt a lot less itchy and skunky when I came back down. We cut through the park. I got mocha chip and Mabel got vanilla. Matt always says he doesn’t like ice cream, then eats half of mine.

As we walked back, I glanced at him. “I don’t want to be rich. I don’t want to be corrupted.”

Matt reached over and took a lick off my cone. Then he kissed me. “Good. I didn’t fall in love with you for your money.”

“Why did you?”

He thought for a minute. “You have an inner glow. I can close my eyes and paint you a million times over.”

“If you liked me so much, why did you pay for my facial surgery?”

Matt didn’t hesitate. “Did it make you happy?”

I nodded. “Yes. It made me very happy. It fulfilled a wonderful dream. But, doesn’t it make you uncomfortable being seen with me? Don’t you worry someone might find out you live with a tranny?”

Matt laughed. “Hey, if I can live with someone who likes mocha chip, then I guess it’s all right.”

We walked along without saying anything for a block. Then I turned to Matt.“I’m afraid.”

Matt leaned in and wrapped his arms around me. “I know. I protect you at nights when the goonies try to get at you.”

“Seriously, Matt. I’m afraid. What if you have all that money and something happens to you or someone realizes who you live with and they shun you?”

“Is that what you’re afraid of? You’re afraid the world will hate me because I love you?”

“It’s entered my mind. I don’t want to cause you pain. I love you but I would rather see you leave me while we are still happy than have us break up angry.”

Matt stared at me. “That’s so fucked up. I say I love you and you tell me you’re radioactive and you don’t want me to die from being around you.”

“Don’t you think that people treat you differently because you’re with a tranny?”

Matt kissed me. “Do I care? I don’t need all those other people, just you.”

I sighed. “When you’re rich can we still live like we do? Does anyone have to even know how rich you are and how you run a charity? Do we have to become like your mother?”

Matt laughed and squeezed me tight. “Oh lord. Shoot me now. You know what kills my mom? She knows I’m going to inherit her money too. It’s all written up that way. And she hates the fact that that money is going to help needy people.”

I laughed. I think it was the caffeine from the mocha chip. But I laughed again. I turned to him and kissed him on the mouth. “I’m sorry. I can be a real ass sometimes.”

Matt kissed me. “It’s good. And you have a lovely ass. Caroline, you keep me grounded. I need you even when you’re fighting the goonies day and night. I just want to make you happy.”

“If you sell your condo and your studio, where will you paint?”

“I can paint in my new studio behind Mrs. McCarthy’s flower shop. There’s great northern light and it’s got a pretty view of your house.”

“Would we still live in my house?”

“Yes. It’s perfect for a couple. Of course, we’ll have to reinforce the clothes pole in the closet and put in a new double shower. “

“Do you always think about sex?”

“I don’t like ice cream so my wants are simple.”

Chapter Nine

For the next few weeks, life went smoothly. We were doing well together and thank goodness we didn’t hear from Mrs. Statler. Matt did report that she gave him the money out of his account.

We were sitting there in the condo on a Monday night. I was catching up on the Times. Matt mentioned the hundred thousand dollar deposit in his account and last year’s loan being covered He also brought me up to date on our plan.

“I’ve talked to the condo offices, and they have buyers for this place and the studio. They said whenever we want we can sign a contract. We’re walking away with mad money.”

I looked up from the Sunday Times. “When are you up for packing boxes?”

“I don’t think we can move the studio until we build a new one. And I have no idea where we put all the stuff that’s in here. Your place is already full of your stuff. I’m stumped.”

“I say give us six months from the time we settle with Mrs. McCarthy.”

“That’s a good idea. I’m thinking about starting up the Foundation early after we finish with all of this. I’ve decided to start laying out the groundwork and seeing what I need to do. After talking with my mother, I’m even going to invite her to donate a portion of her money to the foundation.”

“Seriously? You think your mother is going to let you have her money?”

“No, I don’t. But I’ll let the lawyers show her the benefits of starting a foundation in my father’s name and all the positive press she’ll get. Plus, I’m sure her tax accountants will agree with it. Imagine if this foundation has a billion dollars in it to start. Imagine what we could do to help people.”

I nodded and put the paper down. I was too nervous to multitask. “It all just scares me. But I do want to help teens with outreach programs. There are so many people who need help.”

“Well, we can find an outreach program and donate to them or we can fund a start-up program. I think we need to create a board and come up with a general philosophy that appeals to us. We’ll have all sorts of lawyers and accountants to walk us through the government process of making this all tax deductible. Who knows, we might get donations from other foundations, too.”

I smiled. “Helping would be nice. But let your mom have all the glory. I don’t want you kidnapped and held for ransom because they think you’re a billionaire.”

“Sounds smart. But, if we start this foundation, all that money goes away. We’d be on the board, but people would know we won’t benefit from any of the money. If we center the whole project right here in New York, we’ll just have to cross the street to have meetings, no round the world junkets.”

I nodded.

“In the meantime, I talked to Mrs. McCarthy, and she’s happy to let us tour the place anytime today.”

“Now that’s something I can get behind. I’d love to walk through McCarthy’s place and start laying out the changes we’re going to make. I’m thinking of moving my business over to the flower shop. It would give me room to hire two new people so I can expand.”

“What happens to your store?”

“Hmm. I guess I haven’t thought that through. If someone were to rent it, they’d want both floors, wouldn’t they? That’s not going to work.”

“Living here has spoiled us. We have both places now. What if we kept both?”

I nodded. “You’re right. We use all our space now. The studio, our condo, and my house are all consumed. We are gluttons.”

“Would you like to move to one of those tiny houses or an Airstream?”

“We could walk the Rockies and backpack.”

We both chuckled and tried to imagine all the places we’d never been.

“Why don’t you move to the flower shop and open up another business in your old space. How about a copy store that offers technical assistance? It would be a local version of Staples. You could hire on your help and just oversee the production.”

“Not bad. Not bad at all. We can brainstorm all sorts of businesses we can operate out of it. Would you still want to live upstairs?”

“Let’s decide that after we visit the flower shop.”

We went over to the flower shop after it closed that afternoon. We both took tablets with us to take photos and make notes. Matt went down into the basement.

He was smiling when he came up. “The heater’s shot and there are soft spots in the flooring where years of water has trickled down. We can bring in a good contractor to repair and replace all of that. I’d rather put in a whole new system anyway.”

I smiled. I had no desire to take that on, but if we got the right contractor, we could just sit back and watch. I did an inventory of the first floor.

“It’s the same story on the first floor. Both the kitchen and the powder room are outdated and need some structural work. We might as well start fresh. I’d love to design a new kitchen and powder room.”

Matt reported back on the yard. “The outside is awesome. There’s a nice north facing spot that’s dying for a studio. I think we put a separate system out there. I’m even thinking about making the building two stories and using the downstairs for my office.”

I laughed out loud. “Office? Sure, just another term for a man cave. Fine with me. I’d rather not hear the raucous sounds of a large blaring television anyway.”

I pointed back to my house. “I’ll keep my hideaway in my old bedroom on top of my shop. We can still use it as a guest room, and it can be my retreat.”

Matt was enjoying this. “This is win-win, so far.”

We both were smiling as we stood upstairs together. It was large and nicely laid out. There were a sizable bathroom space and a beautiful bedroom with lots of windows and light.

The living room was cozy. It was gorgeous in it’s old Victorian charm. All the moldings were intact. The whole building still had an authentic charm to it.

I looked at Matt and pointed to the two marble encased fireplaces. “Do the fireplaces work?”

“Mrs. McCarthy told me to have them cleaned and fitted with flues before we built a fire in it. But she said it could be quite cozy.”

“We don’t need a living room if we make this all a suite.”

“Where would we entertain?”

“I’m going to design a larger version of what I already have next door with a kitchen and powder room and dedicate half my workspace to a generous conference room. It will be perfect for entertaining.”

Matt nodded. “I like this. I do.”

We stepped outside. “It would be nice to do the yard over so that we can have outside parties and maybe even have a gallery show each spring and fall using the inside and the out. We could do the whole open french door thing. It would be neat to hang some of your modern stuff on fancy Victorian wrought iron right outside under the stars.”

“Stars in Brooklyn?” Matt laughed.

“Okay, how about lights? It could be the whole Italianate patio look with strings of white lights.”

“You mean show paintings right here?”

“Why not? You can paint some smaller works that are reasonably priced to sell to the neighbors, and you wouldn’t have to give fifty percent to the gallery.”

That night, we took Mrs. McCarthy out to dinner. We handed her a deposit check for a hundred thousand dollars. She smiled.

“You know. When John and I bought this in the seventies, we paid fifty-three thousand. We paid off the mortgage long ago. I’m going to sock this away in short-term T-Bills and the market. I’m from the mid-west and love to invest in ninety-day grain futures. Soybeans are going to be up this year.”

Matt said he’d bring the contracts around to her this week.

“Honey, bring it on. I’ve already started to cut back on my wholesale orders. I can be out of here whenever you’re ready. I’m sure you’ve got wonderful plans for the place. I’ve told my kids they can share in the money if they let me come and visit my grandkids. I headed to California first. They have a cute guest cottage out back and told me I can stay for six months.”

We finished up our bottle of wine and all walked back to the flower shop. We stood there while Rita unlocked her door. She smiled.

“I’m so glad you two bought it. The last thing we need in this neighborhood is some outsider coming in thinking that he knows best. We don’t need another latte shop or someone that sells scented soaps.”

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.”

Chapter Eleven

As we drove along, I turned to Matt. “You know, we’ve had two weeks of breathtaking skies, fresh air, and gorgeous views.”

Without taking his eyes off the road, he spoke. “Yeah, I know I’m happy. I feel better than I’ve felt in a long time.”

“That was an amazing house. I never knew that a camp would be a three-bedroom house with a panoramic view of the water. I envisioned cots, a wood stove, and cold running water.” The coastal Maine house that Matt borrowed was a dose of happiness injected with dishes of ice cream, and lobster rolls dipped in butter.

He smiled. “Yep. I did good.”

“What do you think that something like that costs?”

He grinned. “A couple million.”

Even though Maine was only a few states north, it had eluded me. Its rugged beauty was exhilarating. I especially liked the merging of the ocean to its rocky coast. We hiked, we walked, and we window shopped.

“I understand why people flock here to vacation. And the natives are very obliging.”

“They have to make their money in a short time. The only see skiers in the winter. The rest of us are too smart to come up there in January.”

We spent our days wandering around and discovering. I’d drop Matt and his easel, paints, and canvasses off in some beautiful locale. Mabel and I would drive around until we found hiking trails or cute little towns to sightsee. In the afternoon, I’d go looking for Matt, and we’d eat lunch together. Some days it was a picnic, and other days it was an outside umbrella at a cozy restaurant.

Other days, we’d go nowhere. While Matt painted, Mabel and I would lounge on the deck and stare out at the water. Each morning, we’d plan our itinerary for the day. I’d vote for small towns with lots of stores and windows to look through. Mabel always voted for walks and hikes. Mabel won most of the time.

I had my eyes closed but heard Mabel shift and stand. I opened one eye to see Matt trooping back up with his equipment and two finished canvasses. “Hey! Did you catch any fish?”

“Tried to. But I think I’m using the wrong bait. I keep trying Cadmium Yellow, but they’re not biting.”

“I don’t miss my Pantone colors, but let’s see. That would be 15-1054.”

He smiled. “Show off.”

I stuck out my tongue. “I think I’m going to learn all the names of the native plants indigenous to Brooklyn. I think we need a butterfly garden out back.”

We day-tripped as far north as Bar Harbor to hike in the National Park. We ate lobsters and drank local beers at a local lobster pound. It was fun for all.

For me, there were no deadlines, no calls, and no stress. Each day was always something new. As a single woman developing my own business, I’d spent all my time working for the past six years. My breaks from work were going to the gym or jogging. But, the joy of this year-old relationship changed my life. In the process of sharing my world with Matt, it brought a new perspective to my way of thinking.

Mathew had always lived his life by the seat of his pants. The privilege of being a trust fund baby meant he could be a successful painter without worrying about making ends meet. Taking a trip to Maine to get away was a big deal for me. The fact that he’d spend his time painting, his version of working, was just part of his unique and privileged lifestyle.

My world was much more ordinary. If my income faltered for a brief minute in time, I could disappear. I was in touch with all my clients, and when I told them I was going to Maine for two weeks, no one said a word. I was shocked. It was a realization that this vacation thing was the norm for the rest of the world. I wondered where I had been.

Since I started my own business, I’d never taken time off. I always put all my money back into my business. Matt’s perspective was decidedly different from mine.

“You know, this is the first time I’ve had a vacation since college. It’s rather refreshing to get away. I hope my business is still there when I return.”

Matt laughed. “You’re not a dairy farmer. You don’t have to worry about milking cows. Your clients will love you more when you return.”

“I hope so. I can’t afford to play at work for a living.”

Matt grinned. “Don’t be mad at me, but I’ve never held a job in my life. All my money is from selling paintings.”

“That and your trust fund.”

“You’re right. But that will soon be ending. When we start the foundation, all the money goes there. I’ll become a starving artist from then on.”

But his present lifestyle came with a curse, his mother, Helen Statler. The Red Queen needed blood to survive. The crone had been dependent on draining his life force regularly as tribute until a year ago when we became a couple. Now, the harpy had been forced to look elsewhere.

The good news is there always a greedy politician willing to cut open their vein for a generous donation to their campaign. So Helen doled out cash to anyone willing to bend to her will. She was a real society charmer, all right.

By living with me, Matt was saving money. I was a cheap date. It also meant Matt had been freed of the guilt and the need for his angry rebellion. He was saner, too. His dealings with his mother had lessened. In simple terms, he’d stopped his blackout drinking just for me.

On our way home to Brooklyn, Matt was in a joyful mood. He had painted every day as if he was on the clock. He had found his groove and loved himself again. Me, I’d gained five pounds. Our third member of the happy band was content to sleep most of the way back New York.

When we arrived, the first thing we did was drive over my house and the construction site. We noted the progress our contractor made on the property. Then we unpacked at Matt’s condo. The rental place came to get the shiny new Volvo.

Back over at my place, Matt’s future studio was ready for occupancy. They’d painted the new building inside and out. Mabel mourned her old yard sacrificed to the two-story Craftsman-style building. But was pleased with her new yard behind the flower shop. She had new bushes to sniff and the contractors had built a nice fence to keep her secure.

Matt would schedule the move from his existing studio for the end of the week. He'd start packing his materials this afternoon. He’d made arrangements to have the Manhattan Gallery receive his large Maine paintings and remainder were shipped to my shop. He’d done all his plein air work on site. He had forty completed canvasses. Fortunately, there were places for him to buy stretched blank canvass right around the corner in Booth Bay. He had ten large pieces for the Manhattan gallery.

Over at our future home at the flower shop, the new addition was framed in, had windows, and a roof. They were working on the cedar siding when were arrived.

Inside the flower shop, my future office, the kitchen and bathrooms had been gutted. They were installing floors and new walls. The builders had added structural beams and replaced all the rot. Matt went down in the basement and pronounced it sound. The building was updated to meet building code. The contractor said six to eight more weeks and he'd be gone.

I put Matt was in charge of colors. Even though I did design and graphics, I was more impressed with his color eye than my own. As we were looking at paint chips together, he turned to me with an odd look on his face.

“What?”

He had this strange smile. “This is our first house together.”

I got a tear in my eye and kissed him. “I never looked at it that way.” What I wanted to do was undress him on the spot and make love. But, with fifteen workers all over the property, it wasn’t appropriate. I gave it about two minutes thought.

I smiled. “Let’s take a walk.”

Matt looked at me. “Sure. Where?”

“Your place. I want our bedroom, uh, now.”