Separate Lives

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Seven

A plain manila folder. Nothing too imposing. Definitely nothing too impressive and yet he couldn't have been happier about the contents inside it. Flipping it open, he stared down at the plans, pleased with his final decision. After a few months of debating, it was all ready to go. Now all he had to do was get his ducks in a row and allow it to begin. As his contractor had recently told him, that was going to be one of the most difficult parts. It was a good thing that he had an entire week in Sleepyside to start working on it. He hoped to have it completed before he went back into the city next week. "It's on to phase two," he said quietly, replacing the telephone back on its base with a flourish. With lips curving, he slid back in the comfortable computer chair and steepled his hands under his chin, excited about his new project.

Matthew Wheeler chose that moment to entire his den. He did a double-take, surprised to see someone else taking up residence behind his massive desk. Said person also looked mighty relaxed about it, too. Comically, he did an about-face, poked his head back out into the hallway, glanced back into the den, and then declared in voice full of sham surprise, "Yeah. I didn't make a wrong turn. This is the right room. I am in my den." He tapped a finger against his chin and mused aloud, "I wonder what is wrong with this picture."

Jim tossed his lopsided grin his father's way. Refusing to be embarrassed, knowing his father was only jesting with him and didn't care that he had hijacked the large desk, he stayed in the chair and even rocked back further. He knew better than to rest his booted feet on top of the desk, though. He doubted his father would appreciate that gesture and would most likely boot him out of the chair if he decided to try it. "Hey, Dad. Thanks for letting me use your den. I was finishing up some business."

"I can see that," he answered dryly, totally tongue-in-cheek. He sauntered into the room and pointed at one of the dark green leather chairs sitting in front of the large desk. With only a hint of sarcasm, he inquired, eyes big and face bland, "I almost hesitate to ask but do you mind if I have a seat?"

Getting into the spirit, Jim stayed right where he was and invited him to sit down with his hands. "Please do. Be my guest, Dad," he replied playfully and chuckled lowly when his father took a seat opposite him.

Matt shook his head on the way down. There weren't many people he would willingly give up his desk to. Jim was one of the chosen few. If he had his way, Jim would be taking up more than just this desk in a few years. He hated to admit it but retirement was calling him, even more so than it had when he had first talked to Jim about his proposition. He studied his son shrewdly before letting the opportunity to discuss taking over W&H, International slide by. They had enough to take care of at the moment. He gestured curiously towards the folder in front of Jim. "What were you up to this morning? I know for a fact that those papers don't have anything to do with the business. The office is under strict orders not to contact us unless there is some god-awful emergency at the office that absolutely needs our attention."

"You're right. It's not about work. My contractor and I are finally in business together," Jim explained proudly. Carefully, he opened up the folder and passed the floor plans across the wide expanse of the gleaming cherry desk, curious about how his father would react. "I finally settled on the type of house I want to build."

Intrigued, Matthew leaned forward and accepted the plans. Although he knew Jim had been kicking around the idea for a while now to build his own home on Ten Acres, he was a bit surprised that he was finally going to start the project. Jim had never seemed in a hurry to begin the process. Extremely curious to see what his son had decided on, he kept one eye on the plans and the other on Jim, studying him circumspectly. He didn't open the folder right away. "You've thrown out a few different styles over the years. What one finally won out?"

"The log cabin," Jim answered with a small chuckle. It was the one house out of the different designs he had picked that kept calling back to him. It seemed to be a good fit. Was it the right choice? In his heart of hearts, he knew it was not the best choice for him. It was merely second best. The only truly correct home would be a two-story farmhouse, with a wide porch and painted the color of a pretty blue but he didn't have any belief that that particular house would ever come into being. It wasn't so much the house he was missing out on. It was the woman he had planned to share it with. He didn't share the truth with his dad, settled for a small shrug instead, and concentrated on the log cabin. "It seemed the most appropriate."

"It'll look good sitting on Ten Acres," Matt replied. With narrowed eyes, he studied the floor plan and then the photograph of a completed model that Jim handed over to him. Silently, he considered the plans, brought the picture to life in his mind, and nodded approvingly. It would certainly do. He was right. It would look great on Ten Acres. Always the business man, he inquired, wanting to know more, "Are you able to make special modifications?"

"We have a meeting next week to put the finishing touches on the contract, sign it, put down the down payment…you know, all that sort of stuff. I also have a long list of the permits that I need to get in order before we can start building." He tapped the notepad that was filled to overflowing with notes he had taken on it in his neat, precise handwriting. Thinking about the permits, he muttered under his breath, not having any desire to start applying for them or dealing with the bureaucracy, "I think I'll tackle that one tomorrow." He prayed that it went smoothly.

There wasn't anything quite like building. The headaches that went with it were monstrous. Matt gave an involuntary shudder while he sympathized for Jim. He had experienced it all in his career as a CEO of a major business. It didn't matter on what scale; building was tough. It wasn't always easy. It certainly wasn't pretty. But the problems, worries and stress caused by the process were worth it once you saw the completed structure. He knew Jim would understand that exact feeling the second he saw his home resting on Ten Acres. "You certain you don't want to put up another mansion on that spot?" he wondered jokingly, remembering the old dilapidated mansion that had once sat on top of the hill.

Jim chuckled again, stood up from the chair and thoughtfully rolled it back to its spot at the desk. "No. No mansion. That's not exactly my style, is it?" He walked towards the window and brushed aside the forest green curtain. There were lots of trees and leaves standing in his way, obscuring his view, but he stared in the direction of Ten Acres, finding it hard to believe that his house would soon be residing there; barring any potential problems, of course. It would be odd not to call the Manor House his home anymore but he was more than ready for his own place in Sleepyside. Change was definitely a part of their lives. Honey would be getting married on the weekend and moving into her own home. It was time for him to make a change, too.

Matt joined him. Having a pretty good idea where Jim was looking, he also stared towards Ten Acres. Inwardly, he thought that it was absolutely terrible for a parent to have two children leaving the nest at roughly the same time. First Honey would be deserting the house, and, knowing Jim the way that he did, it wouldn't be long before he was gone. Manor House was going to be awfully quiet, he mused to himself, not looking forward to it in the least. He suddenly had a much stronger understanding about Peter Belden, who had spent the past few years complaining about how quiet his house in the hollow was. Then he shook away the melancholy. He'd simply have to start insisting on grandchildren as soon as possible. Immensely cheered, good feelings restored, he returned to the subject of building. He cautioned Jim, "It can be very difficult to predict the schedule. There can be all kinds of delays and unforeseen issues when it comes to building your own home. With that in mind, do you have any idea on the time frame for your house?"

"September 15," Jim shot back swiftly, mentally reviewing the date he had requested. His first choice had been July but his contractor had actually laughed at the suggestion. His second suggestion of August had been met with a dry chuckle. When he had suggested September, the contractor had mentioned that it could be tight but he believed it could be done. "I'm keeping my fingers crossed on that one. If it gets done on time, or before time, I'm going to add in a hefty bonus for the company." He had worked long enough beside his father to know that sometimes a little extra incentive helped further things along. "We're going to put it in the contract. I'll sign it at our meeting next week."

"Atta boy." Pleased, Matt clapped him on the back. There was never any harm in smoothing things along. He wouldn't be at all surprised if the house was up and finished by the end of August instead of September. As long as Jim didn't change his mind or want something different, he believed it to be an extremely strong possibility. Wanting to know more about the position of the home in his life, he wondered aloud, "How do you see your house? Will it be your new home base or merely a place to visit when you're back in Sleepyside?"

"We'll see how it goes. I'm not certain yet." Jim let the curtain fall back, stepped back, and admitted quietly, "It's not horrible living in the city. It's convenient. It's close to work. Anything I could possible want to do is available at a moment's notice. Ball games, the theater, restaurants. I've lived there for a long time, too. It's just…" He faltered, uncertain how to finish his thoughts.

"Living in a city," his father finished for him, understanding perfectly. He had the same feelings himself. "I hear you. It's not always my favorite place to live, either. City living gets to me, too. There's no substitute for the woods, the horses, the fresh air and the freedom out here, is there? That's one of the reasons why I'm glad I have this place to come to when I need to. It helps me."

"I think that's how my house on Ten Acres will make me feel," Jim agreed immediately. Living in the city was necessary since his job was at the main corporate office. However, he was hoping to start spending more time in Sleepyside, less time in the city, once his house was finished. He imagined he could flex some time here and there, work from home a day or two, that sort of thing. He needed a break from the hustle and bustle, the crowds, the traffic and the people. Really, he needed home. As much as he enjoyed his job and found it challenging if not exactly the most rewarding career imaginable, he couldn't overlook the fact that he was, at heart, a person who thrived on the outdoors. Being cooped up in an office during the day and exchanging it for his apartment during the night was starting to wear on him. Grateful to have the freedom of space for the next week, he regulated it to the background and inquired, "What brings you to your den this morning? Do you have anything to do?"

"I promised Madeleine I wouldn't get caught up in the business this week at all. It's all about Honey and the wedding." His eyes started gleaming and he gave a great big broad wink. "But that doesn't mean I can't check my email to find out how things are going. If I should need to reply to one or call in to my personal assistant to see how things are going…well, your mother won't begrudge me that, will she?" He rocked back on his heels, trying not to smile too complacently.

Jim grinned back in reply. His mother would more than begrudge him if she knew about it. Judging from the devious look on his father's face, it was obvious that he wouldn't be telling her if he did. He wouldn't rat his father out, either. "Understood," he proclaimed, setting his father's mind at rest.

Matt nodded in acknowledgement. He stretched his arms out wide and said, "I have to admit that it will be nice to have the week off from work, though. It's a good test for me. I'll be able to find out how things run without me. Then, unfortunately, it's back to the old grindstone next week." And whatever mess he needed to clean up. From past experience, he knew that there were going to be at the very least a few of them. He merely hoped that they weren't huge, disastrous, or downright awful.

"Tell me about it," Jim said with a sigh. Then he put it behind him. A full week in Sleepyside couldn't have come at a better time. He pointed towards the stables. Susie and Lady were quietly munching on brand new fresh green grass in the paddock. Spring was definitely here. He couldn't see the other horses; imagined they were grazing on the other side of the barn. "Dan's supposed to get in touch with me when he wakes up. We're going for a ride together as soon as he's up and about."

"Good for Dan. He must be catching up on some much-needed sleep," Matt mused, scratched his chin and contemplated the information Jim had offered him. Never a dumb one, he thought back to Jim's morning. He had been spent the entire morning locked up in his den, with plans to ride with Dan. He glanced up at the ceiling, thought about the young woman upstairs, and didn't know if he should laugh, make a joke, or clock Jim on the head. It was apparent, almost painfully so, to figure out what his son was doing and why. Needing some more information, he inquired casually, "You haven't left my desk all morning, have you?"

Jim tilted his head back, slightly taken aback by the question, and frowned. It had come out of left field and sounded very odd. "I ate breakfast with Mom and Honey. I also took a coffee break earlier but that was about it." He picked up his nearly empty mug and drained the last of its contents, only grimacing slightly at the fact that the coffee had gone lukewarm and didn't taste nearly as fresh as it had an hour earlier. "Why?"

"No reason." Matt shrugged a muscled shoulder and chortled inwardly when Jim visibly relaxed. Changing tactics, not willing to let Jim off the hook, he shared conversationally, "I drove to Mr. Lynch's store today in order to get my first cup of coffee. Bright and early, I might add. It was one of the best pieces of good fortune to have Mr. Lynch take over that store. Have you ever tried their coffee? It's heavenly."

"Yeah. I have." Their coffee was the farthest thing from his mind. Jim's face took on a distant, dark look. He ducked his head to hide it. It never was easy to have a reminder of that long ago summer day, the one that had served as such a catalyst for a rift in a relationship that had been as vital to him as breathing. A tiny, mocking voice reminded him insistently that it was still important to him; he was only too stubborn to admit it. "They have good coffee," he replied shortly, his eyebrows drawing together and a scowl settling across his handsome face.

In order to hide his sudden wayward smile, Matt turned again to stare out the window. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Jim giving the floor quite the death glare. The gleam in his eyes turned cunning. Continuing on easily, he shared, "It was pretty early. Not sunrise early but still on the early side. You, Honey and Madeleine were probably just waking up when I took my first sip of that amazing coffee. Oh, and it was perfectly brewed, too," he shared, sighing in appreciation as he remembered the delicious hot beverage. "Anyway, I'm digressing here. As I was driving back from the store, I happened to pass something unexpected. Do you know what I saw?" He posed the question innocently, waiting just the right amount of time for Jim to take the bait.

Hooked, Jim shook his head, not having the slightest clue where his father was headed with this newest topic of conversation. Idly, he answered without too much interest, "Maybe a deer? They are becoming very bold right now."

"No. Not wildlife." Matt wished he had someone around to help him draw it out dramatically. Had she been there, Honey would have helped. Since she was not, he paused momentarily before announcing in a loud, leading tone that gave away more than his spoken words, "I saw a runner. Doing a pretty good clip, too. She seriously impressed me. Looked pretty intense. I don't think she saw me. She seemed to be much too concerned about her pace or her thoughts than about the passing scenery." Trixie hadn't even glanced in the direction of his vehicle. She had looked straight ahead and had pounded past him.

Jim's hand paused on its way to his head. He forced it to continue on where he ran it over his hair. He didn't need his father to say anything else. The identity of the runner was crystal clear. "That's…good," he said for lack of a better word while he slowly digested the information. His gaze involuntarily slid to the ceiling. The runner was upstairs, hanging out with his sister, only a few yards away from his very own room. And it was only going to get worse as the week went on. She was going to be around a lot, practically under his feet. He couldn't possibly avoid her every day. If that wasn't bad enough, there were going to be many Bob-White functions over the week, too. He couldn't miss out on them; neither could she. A double whammy. A testament to his strength of spirit, he didn't sigh or pound something, like his head against the wall. The desire to do that was there but he didn't give in to the childish impulse.

"Trixie is a solid runner." Matt watched Jim closely, was impressed when his son didn't flinch at the sound of her name. He understood Jim well and appreciated the iron control he was exuding. It was going to be an interesting week, he thought inwardly. He hoped that both Jim and Trixie were up for it. Posing a wondering aloud, he asked, "I wonder if she's run in any races. She's certainly good enough to win them."

"I wouldn't know," Jim answered stoically, feeling stupid and unable to come up with anything else to say. He didn't know much about her anymore, certainly not that she was devoted to exercise. His days of knowing her innermost thoughts and favorite activities were long gone, without much chance of being resurrected.

Enough was enough. Since he wasn't getting any other response besides short, clipped words and a stoic, impenetrable front, Matt decided to go on the attack. His question was simple in the extreme but loaded with the force of a semi-automatic weapon. Tipping his chin back, staring down his nose at Jim, he questioned, "So, you've got to tell me. How does it feel?"

Nothing else. Jim didn't need any other words. Breathing out a loud expulsion of breath, he found it just delightful that he should be surprised that his father was now bringing up the subject that always plagued him. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he answered in a low tone, not needing any other clarification but attempting to sidestep the unwelcome and unnecessary probe, "Not bad, I guess. We're pretty used to seeing each other, Dad. After all, we've known each other for almost twelve years now." He barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"That's not what I'm asking. Let's try it again," Matt retorted, not allowing his son to use sarcasm as a shield. He clapped Jim on the back and went for a clarification that his son couldn't overlook or misinterpret, "Were you okay with seeing Trixie again last night?"

"I'm fine with it," Jim answered, placing a hand on a lean hip. He had to remind himself that everyone who was bringing up the subject had not only his best interests at heart, but also Trixie's. It was just his terrible luck that it was still such a painful one. Trailing a finger along the polished edge of the windowsill, he insisted, "It's gotten easier over the years."

He had never thought his son was a liar. Staring at the bent head, Matt had to admit that even Jim would do it, if it meant protecting himself. Deciding to let him get away with it, to not call him on it, Matt nodded curtly, speaking more jovially than normal. "Well, that's good, then. You won't mind seeing her practically every day this week. You definitely won't mind walking down the aisle with her on Saturday or standing next to her for the millions upon millions upon millions of pictures that your mother has planned for the photographer, either. There's also the wedding party dance. I'm certain you won't mind partnering her for that, especially with all of our two hundred-plus guests watching you."

It took an effort. A huge effort. A Herculean effort. Jim managed to keep his poker-face. Honey had already drilled it into him the night before. Only the briefest flicker in his eyes gave away his true feelings. "I won't mind it at all," he bit out, not quite as civilly or casually as he would have liked, and not fooling his father for one single second. Even worse for his equilibrium, he knew it, too. A string of inventive curses ran through his mind while the second round of thoughtful yet unnecessary prodding began. His father was the last one he had expected to jump on the wagon.

"I can see that," Matt retorted, sarcasm dripping from his mouth. He couldn't help it. He grinned, chuckled at his son, and laid a heavy hand on Jim's shoulder.

The insistent tones of his cell phone reverberated throughout the room, announcing a new text message. With an almost pathetic gratitude, Jim picked it up and looked at. Relief paraded across his face. He had his out. "Dan's on his way. He's going to meet me at the stables in ten minutes." He moved forward, hoping his dad would get the hint and let him leave without adding anything more to their current conversation.

"Wait a minute before you go." When Jim turned back to him one hand on the door handle and a look of frustration on his face, Matt explained carefully, not wanting to hurt but knowing he didn't have much of a choice, "It's this thing with you and Trixie. Whatever you do, you've got to do something about it before Saturday. I don't care what. I don't even have any helpful suggestions to offer you. All I want is for you two to have the best and easiest time at the wedding as you can. You deserve it."

"We will." He would have loved to end it there but, seeing that insistent look in his father's eye, well-aware that Matt would keep harping on the subject until Jim either caved, begged him to stop or went quietly insane before his very eyes, Jim held out his hands, announcing his surrender with only a hint of regret. "Don't worry, Dad. It's going to be taken care of. You don't need to say anything else to me about it."

Puzzled, Matt's forehead furrowed. He hadn't expected that kind of a response. "What are you talking about, Jim?"

"I've already promised Honey I would talk to Trixie," Jim answered shortly, finding grim amusement in the astonished look his father threw his way. "You don't need to say anything else. You, Mom, or the rest of the Bob-Whites don't need to bring it up to me, ask me about it or give me any helpful suggestions. We'll get everything settled so that the rest of the week and the wedding will go as smoothly as possible. I'll see to it. We'll talk as soon as we get the chance. I promised Honey," he reiterated forcefully just in case Matt had missed out on it the first time around.

Jim didn't renege on a promise. Matt liked it. He liked it a lot. He thought about Jim's explanation, wondered how Honey had managed to get her brother to make her such a promise, and fervently wished that his daughter had decided to go into business instead of occupational therapy. She would have been a hard one to beat in the boardroom. What he wouldn't have given to watch Honey take Jim on. He imagined it must have been a magnificent sight, his secretly forceful daughter taking on his quiet, taciturn son. "Hold it for a minute, Jim. Let me get this straight. You are going to talk to Trixie." He repeated the words slowly, almost as if saying them helped him believe that Jim actually meant them. The thought of Jim and Trixie talking together bordered on the realm of impossibility. It felt unbelievable good to know that one of them was going to instigate a resolution, even if it was only a temporary one.

"That's right. I'm going to talk to her," Jim replied, disgruntled and obviously not pleased about his promise. His word had been given. He wouldn't be backing out, not now, even if he would have preferred experiencing the joys of an emergency appendectomy or the numbness of a root canal. Both rated close to holding a private, rather intimate discussion with Trixie about a potentially painful and extremely uncomfortable subject.

"When?" Matt didn't give Jim time to open the door before he shot out the next question. "You said that you were going to talk to her, as soon as you can," he reminded him pointedly when Jim groaned under his breath. "You know me. I like getting the details ironed out. When are you planning on doing this?"

Jim's shoulders drooped when he realized that he wasn't getting away any time soon. Slowly, he pivoted around, gauged his father, and answered with an inscrutable expression on his face, "The sooner, the better, right?"

"Exactly what I wanted to hear. It sounds great to me!" Matt remarked with a cheerfulness that grated on Jim's last few remaining nerves. He hooked a thumb in the direction of the second floor. "She's here today. Today sounds good. Maybe you'll get a chance to corner her and go over your issues after your ride. It could happen, Jim."

It certainly could. The thought wasn't a pleasant one; had kept Jim awake a good portion of the night. Many different scenarios had drifted through his mind. He had started many conversations with an imaginary Trixie but none had reached a satisfying conclusion. This was one time where it was going to be much better to go with instinct instead of by a carefully constructed plan. As much as he liked to be prepared, it simply didn't seem to be an option right now. They were going to have to face it, together. One strength they had in common was their love for Brian and Honey. He understood, even without talking to her, that the happiness of their friends would definitely come first. There wasn't any other option for either of them.

Considering the matter settled, Matt gave one imperial nod and reclaimed his seat behind the desk. He fired up his computer. "Excellent, Jim. If you want someone to talk to about it afterwards, let me know. I'm here for you." He watched the screen light up, intentionally not looking to see how Jim took his offer.

As much as he appreciated his father's desire to help, he wasn't going to take him or anyone else up on it. Jim much preferred licking his wounds in private. He offered a mumbled, incoherent answer and, when his father waved him off, disappeared through the door. His fingers fumbled to close it behind him. The loud click was the only outlet he gave for his tumultuous emotions. Out in the hallway, he looked into nothingness but his imagination was much stronger than his resolve. An image of a pretty blonde flittered in front of him, tantalizing him and making him want things he didn't have the right to want anymore. The groan he released was loud and frustrated. Making polite conversation with her wasn't easy. Conversing with her bordered on the impossible. How the hell they were going to have a calm, adult conversation about the expectations for the wedding was beyond him. He hooked a thumb through his belt loop, stared straight ahead, and tried and failed to conjure up any way to start the discussion with her.

Planning it out wasn't coming close to working. He muttered some more under his breath, rubbed his hands together, and started to walk away from the den. When he passed the staircase, he stopped and stared up it. Nothing. He couldn't hear anything. He couldn't see anything. Yet she was up there. He knew it. Deciding that he wasn't going to have to think about it for a while longer, finding it good to actually procrastinate for once in his life, Jim spun around and strode swiftly to the front door. He flung it open and stalked towards the stables, unaware of the bright blue sky above and the golden sun shining down. A good ride was exactly what he needed to clear his mind…and to put off what he had promised to do.