She followed him inside, holding his hand and stepping over rubble. He explained that many years before it had been a factory to make bricks, but the McTern family had dwindled in size, and the industry was taken over by big manufacturers. Little businesses like the McTern Brickworks went out of business. “So the building has sat empty for a long time,” Tristan concluded.
He was looking at her as though he were presenting her with the greatest gift imaginable—except that she had no idea what it was.
They passed through a big room with tall ceilings, then through a door to see a series of three smaller rooms.
“I thought these could be offices,” he said.
“If I ask ‘offices for what?’ will I get an answer?”
Tristan just smiled as he tugged on her hand and led her back out to the front. There was a hallway with a couple of old doors barely hanging on by their hinges.
“Restrooms,” he said, then quickened his step.
They hurried through a long, narrow room that had only a partial roof. Birds flew about overhead. They passed through an open doorway and came out into a large, airy room. The old walls were tall and there were broken windows all along the back, with a door to the outside. Against the far wall was a long piece of canvas covering something.
Jecca stopped in the middle of the room and looked at Tristan.
“What do you think?” he asked again, his beautiful eyes alive with what could only be described as hope.
“About what, Tristan?” she asked, her voice showing her frustration.
“For an art studio,” he said. “I don’t know much about it, but those windows face north. That’s the best light for artists, isn’t it?”
“You bought this building so I’d have a place to paint?” she asked softly.
“Well,” he said, “actually, no.”
Jecca breathed a sigh of relief.
“When I sent your dad the floor plan, he suggested that this room be yours.”
“My father?” Jecca said, and she had a truly horrible feeling that just maybe—possibly—she was beginning to understand. “You and my father worked together? Without my knowledge?”
“Jecca,” Tris said, “you’re making it sound like I conspired with your father. It was just something that happened.”
“Something that happened that planned my future? Where I am to paint?” she asked quietly.
“No,” he said. “At least it wasn’t like that. Remember when we were in Williamsburg buying the material for Nell’s clothes?”
She didn’t answer, just stood there looking at him.
“You asked me to send a photo to your dad and I did, and I introduced myself to him.” Tris looked away. He thought it would be better if he didn’t reveal exactly what he’d written to Joe Layton, or his reply. He looked back at her. “Jecca, baby, it all just sort of happened, that’s all.”
“What happened?” she asked through clenched teeth.
“Buying the building and making plans with your father,” Tris said as he went to the big canvas. “I waited until this came before telling you about it. This is the surprise.” With a flourish, he pulled the canvas away.
Leaning against the wall was a big sign of painted metal. It was dark green with yellow lettering, and it was a new version of the one Jecca had seen all her life. It said LAYTON HARDWARE in the same solid block letters that her great-grandfather had chosen back in 1918.
Jecca kept her face straight as she looked at Tristan.
“Your dad is going to turn the store in New Jersey over to his son and open a place in Edilean. He knows it won’t make the money the other store did, but he has a lot saved. Your dad is a good money manager. And besides, all he really wants to do is be near youis y. He th. He misses you a lot, Jec, and as you said, you’re all he really has. What’s that old saying? ‘A son is a son until he takes a wife, but a daughter is a daughter all her life.’ That doesn’t say much for us men, does it? Jecca, please say something.”
She took a breath. “While I was making clothes for the show, you and my father did this, didn’t you? That’s what you were so secretive about, what you were doing with your cousin Rams, the lawyer. That’s short for Ramsey. Isn’t that what you
told me when I asked what you were doing?”
“Jecca,” Tristan said as he walked toward her. “I thought things had changed between us. I thought you were growing to like Edilean. Your dad—”