given me time to go over every detail in my mind.
“About forty feet,” I said. “I plan to have steps leading down from over here, but I’m hoping the view will have a feeling of infinity.”
“Yes,” he said, staring at the screen. I’d taken a photo of the vista from approximately where I planned to site the waterfall and superimposed it on the virtual garden of ferns, irises, and hostas I proposed. A weeping Japanese cherry dangled its whips into the channeled stream.
“That’s it for the virtual tour,” I said. “I have printouts of the AutoCAD plans to show you as well as photos of samples from the ironworker and the stonemason I’d like to use.” I hesitated, waiting for him to say something, but he continued to stare at the last photo that I’d left up on the screen. There was the long valley with its patchwork of farms and woodland. The rise of mountains in the distance. The beams of sunlight breaking through the bank of clouds on the far horizon. What was he thinking?
“Alice,” he said at last, turning in his chair toward me. For a moment I thought there were tears in his eyes, but then he threw back his head and laughed. “It’s perfect! Absolutely fucking perfect! I knew you could do it.”
Mackenzie asked just as many questions when we went over my AutoCAD drawings with plant callouts and accompanying photos, Phil Welling’s reports, and the designs for the lighting and in-ground watering systems. He obviously enjoyed drilling down into the details. He questioned some of my choices, but more, it seemed to me, out of curiosity than criticism.
“Why buddleias here? I think I would have gone with hydrangeas.”
“They can take a long time to get established. You want this to be a showplace by the end of June, so I had to make some tough choices. I’ve called for groupings of hydrangeas up here in the sundial garden. They may not flower much this year, but they’ll form a nice mass.”
He glanced over my price estimates, which I’d spent endless hours assembling. I’d attached more than twenty pages of itemized lists, together with samples of Nate’s and Damon’s work and their own cost sheets. The grand total seemed astronomical to me, but Mackenzie didn’t question a single number.
“Did you fold in your own fee for overseeing the contractors? I don’t see it broken out here.”
“I wasn’t sure how you wanted to handle that—if you preferred to pay them directly or not.”
“What—and screw you out of a markup? Alice! I thought you were a better businesswoman than that. You found them. You should get the credit—and the cut.”
“Thanks,” I said, though there was another reason I’d submitted their proposals separately. “But that means I’ll need more of the money up front. I can’t afford to—”
“I understand,” Mackenzie said, reaching over and unlocking a desk drawer. He pulled out a checkbook ledger. “Shall we say half now and half on completion?”
“Fine,” I said as I watched him write out in a bold, almost illegible hand the biggest check I’d ever received in my life.
“And I haven’t forgotten my promise to you about the Mackenzie Project,” he said, standing and stretching while I began to pull my things together. “I’ll make a contribution this week. And I’d appreciate it if you gave some thought to possible recipients.”
“I’ll do that,” I said, smiling. One came to mind more or less immediately. I felt almost light-headed with happiness as he walked me across the entranceway to the front door. He glanced down the hall toward the sunroom.
“I’m sorry if I shocked you before,” he said in a lowered voice, “the way I talked about my family. I guess I just thought you knew a thing or two about unscrupulous spouses.”
I stared up at him. So he knew. Of course he knew. He’d told me himself he’d done a little digging around about me. He’d talked to Sal. He’d no doubt Googled me. How many thousands of news
“About forty feet,” I said. “I plan to have steps leading down from over here, but I’m hoping the view will have a feeling of infinity.”
“Yes,” he said, staring at the screen. I’d taken a photo of the vista from approximately where I planned to site the waterfall and superimposed it on the virtual garden of ferns, irises, and hostas I proposed. A weeping Japanese cherry dangled its whips into the channeled stream.
“That’s it for the virtual tour,” I said. “I have printouts of the AutoCAD plans to show you as well as photos of samples from the ironworker and the stonemason I’d like to use.” I hesitated, waiting for him to say something, but he continued to stare at the last photo that I’d left up on the screen. There was the long valley with its patchwork of farms and woodland. The rise of mountains in the distance. The beams of sunlight breaking through the bank of clouds on the far horizon. What was he thinking?
“Alice,” he said at last, turning in his chair toward me. For a moment I thought there were tears in his eyes, but then he threw back his head and laughed. “It’s perfect! Absolutely fucking perfect! I knew you could do it.”
Mackenzie asked just as many questions when we went over my AutoCAD drawings with plant callouts and accompanying photos, Phil Welling’s reports, and the designs for the lighting and in-ground watering systems. He obviously enjoyed drilling down into the details. He questioned some of my choices, but more, it seemed to me, out of curiosity than criticism.
“Why buddleias here? I think I would have gone with hydrangeas.”
“They can take a long time to get established. You want this to be a showplace by the end of June, so I had to make some tough choices. I’ve called for groupings of hydrangeas up here in the sundial garden. They may not flower much this year, but they’ll form a nice mass.”
He glanced over my price estimates, which I’d spent endless hours assembling. I’d attached more than twenty pages of itemized lists, together with samples of Nate’s and Damon’s work and their own cost sheets. The grand total seemed astronomical to me, but Mackenzie didn’t question a single number.
“Did you fold in your own fee for overseeing the contractors? I don’t see it broken out here.”
“I wasn’t sure how you wanted to handle that—if you preferred to pay them directly or not.”
“What—and screw you out of a markup? Alice! I thought you were a better businesswoman than that. You found them. You should get the credit—and the cut.”
“Thanks,” I said, though there was another reason I’d submitted their proposals separately. “But that means I’ll need more of the money up front. I can’t afford to—”
“I understand,” Mackenzie said, reaching over and unlocking a desk drawer. He pulled out a checkbook ledger. “Shall we say half now and half on completion?”
“Fine,” I said as I watched him write out in a bold, almost illegible hand the biggest check I’d ever received in my life.
“And I haven’t forgotten my promise to you about the Mackenzie Project,” he said, standing and stretching while I began to pull my things together. “I’ll make a contribution this week. And I’d appreciate it if you gave some thought to possible recipients.”
“I’ll do that,” I said, smiling. One came to mind more or less immediately. I felt almost light-headed with happiness as he walked me across the entranceway to the front door. He glanced down the hall toward the sunroom.
“I’m sorry if I shocked you before,” he said in a lowered voice, “the way I talked about my family. I guess I just thought you knew a thing or two about unscrupulous spouses.”
I stared up at him. So he knew. Of course he knew. He’d told me himself he’d done a little digging around about me. He’d talked to Sal. He’d no doubt Googled me. How many thousands of news
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