Standing on the stoop were Mr. and Mrs. Moore, dressed to the nines. At their side, Remi bounced slightly, like a runner getting ready to burst from the starting block.
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that his jaw had dropped at the sight of their visitors as well. She wondered for a second why the still-silent Moores looked as shocked to find themselves on the Kahns’ front steps as the Kahns were to see them there.
Hadn’t they had a few minutes to get used to the idea on theirwalk over? Julianne thought huffily. While we, on the other hand, were totally blindsided!
After an utterly awkward moment of Kahns staring at Moores and Moores staring at Kahns in complete and total silence, all attention shifted to Remi. While his parents sulked in the doorway, he rushed past Chloe, nearly knocking her down again , on his way into the Kahns’ living room. He was carrying a large poster tube in one hand. Julianne recognized it as the mystery roll of paper from the little show she’d witnessed through the Moores’ window the previous night. Now, standing this close to it, she was a little disappointed in herself for not recognizing blueprints when she saw them. Did these people actually think they could walk into her home with plans for remodeling?
“Remington! Come back here!” Mr. Moore snapped.
He turned to Chloe, mainly because she was directly in front of him and said, “I apologize for my son’s rash behavior.”
“It’s fine,” Chloe said slowly. “Your son is always wel-come here.” Her voice was icy. “We have no problem at all with him.”
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Remi’s words came rushing out, rapid fire. “Listen, Julianne, I know you said you never wanted to see me again, but please hear me out. Mr. Kahn, Chloe, I know we’re the last people in the world you want in your living room but I promise you, this will only take five minutes of your time. Mom and Dad—I’m your son. We share DNA. You’re stuck with me. So just try to pretend that you wouldn’t rather be having a root canal.” He took a deep breath as everyone gathered around him with varying degrees of caution. He popped open the lid of the poster tube and started to unroll large sheets of paper onto the Kahns’ living room table.
Standing across the room, Julianne felt her hands shaking. She glanced on either side of her—at her father and Chloe—and knew that she wasn’t alone in her anxiety. She cleared her throat, struggling to make words emerge from the dry, scared place between her heart and her mouth. “Um, what . . . what are you doing here?”
“I have an idea!” Remi burst out. Then he looked up from his pile of papers and blushed in Julianne’s general direction. Julianne assumed Remi had noticed his father’s stony-faced grimace, because he now spoke in his best “project manager” voice. “I’m here to make a . . .” He faltered. “I’m here to make an official business presentation. I think you may be, uh, very interested in the schematic I’ve worked up for this afternoon.” Julianne feared her heart was threatening to pound 226
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out of her chest, with her stomach in hot pursuit.
Instinctively, she reached for Chloe’s hand and was relieved to feel her sister squeeze back. A few feet away, tiny beads of sweat were forming on their father’s forehead.
Remi seemed to have gotten his second wind.
Crouched on the living room floor, hunched over his pile of papers, he was busily sorting and shuffling and occasionally clearing his throat. Finally, after what felt like years, Remi scooped up some blueprints, transferred them to the coffee table, and turned to his father with shaking hands.
“Dad, I know that you’ve spent a long time, and a lot of money drawing up the plans for your house.” Remi’s voice had gained the tiniest edge of confidence.
Remi’s father nodded severely. “You’re absolutely right. This project has been years of work in the making.
Years.”
Remi pressed on before his father could elaborate.
“But, bearing all those things in mind, I have something I’d really like you to consider.” Remi took another deep breath and smoothed his blueprints out across the table.
“I’ve been working with my boss at Dawson and Dawson on this all summer, and I think it could really work.”
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down over the blueprints. Julianne could hear Remi gulping down air, but she couldn’t look at him. “It’s an alternative schematic for the new wing,” Remi continued. “Dad, I know it’s not your original plan, but I think you’ll find it interesting. And it’s totally eco-friendly. It would be groundbreaking—in a completely different way.” He passed the blueprints over his shoulder to his father, who had gone from looking annoyed to down-right shocked. Remi’s mother took a few tentative steps forward to stand with her husband and glance over the blueprints. She stepped across the rug like she was trying to wipe something distasteful off of her shoe.
“I know it strays from your original vision, Dad,” Remi pressed on. “But I think it’s still viable. Living on this beach is a dream you share with a lot of people—I know it was a dream for Mrs. Kahn, too. I, um, I think we have that in common. We all deserve to build our dreams with our families, and no one should be able to take that away from us.” He paused, shyly looking over at his father. “Maybe, this way, we can all have our dream houses.”
Mrs. Moore raised her aristocratic—if slightly Botox-ed—
chin toward her husband and then gestured back toward Remi’s new blueprint. After what seemed like a lifetime, she said, “I, for one, think this is lovely.” Mr. Moore slipped his hand around his wife’s waist and clapped his son on the shoulder.
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Nodding toward the blueprints, he said, “Well, Remington, the way you’ve worked solar panels in with the existing glass is very impressive. And turning that wing inward to create a contained beach garden that will be visible from the gym is a solid innovation.” He paused, and when he spoke again, his tone was a little bit softer. “I’m impressed with the refinement in your design, son. The sustainable fixtures are going to save me quite a bit of money.”
The room, collectively, exhaled.
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Chapter Twenty-five
!
Julianne shuffled downstairs in her pajamas, stretching. It had been a few days since Remi had nearly broken their door down with his surprise visit, but she was still exhausted from all the excitement. As she walked into the living room, en route to the kitchen for a bowl of cereal, she noticed Chloe perched on the edge of the sofa.
Her sister was holding a brilliant orange Gerbera daisy.
“Oooh! What’s this?” Julianne squealed. “Did the new boy send it over?”
“Nope, this one’s for you.” Chloe handed the flower to her very surprised sister. “It arrived this morning,” she said with a wink, before walking away.
Julianne gingerly opened the note attached to the pretty flower.
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Julianne, I have a surprise for you. Meet me at 8:30 tonight, at the spot where you set up your afternoon easel. I’m a very tempera-mental note, so you’d better do it my way or my feelings will be hurt.
Julianne laughed—she’d never had a piece of stationery make demands on her before. Her interest was decidedly piqued.
By 8:30 that evening, Julianne was ready to burst with excitement and anticipation. She grabbed the flower and the note and headed down to the appointed spot on the beach. She thought about all the afternoons she’d spent in this exact spot, baking and squinting in the sun as she tried to recreate her mother’s light exactly.