Part 2
"That soon?" Bruce was asking the cell phone in his hand as he approached the screen door of the old farmhouse. He smiled when he saw them standing there and motioned them to come inside, as he continued to talk. "Lana and her aunt just got here. Potter," he told the person he was talking to. He pronounced it as 'aahnt' as opposed to the usual Americanized 'ant'--a gentle reminder that he'd been raised by an English servant and reared in English boarding schools. "She runs the florist shop in town." Presently he covered the mouthpiece of cellular phone with his hand and mouthed the name of his guardian/butler in his guests' direction.
Lana returned the smile he flashed them both with one tentative smile of her own, looking around the gutted exterior of the home. It seemed so sterile and cold to her. Empty and desolate, and yet, she had a feeling that before long, the new owner would have it filled with life.
"Alright," he told Alfred as he began walking back towards them. "Have Gregory fax the new reports to my office. I'll look them over when I get back from Metropolis later this week. Thanks, Alfred," he added with a small smile. He came to stand next to Lana and Nell, sighing as he did so. "Sometimes I wonder how my father ran it all by himself," he said in response to their questioning gazes. "Nothing seems to work without me these days."
"Newsweek says Wayne Enterprises is actually bigger now than it was when your father was... ran it," Nell commented clumsily.
Bruce nodded slowly, seemingly lost in some deep thought for a moment. "I... think it might be," he muttered, shaking his head.
Lana marveled at this--he was so confident one minute and so confused the next, as if his mind had fallen under a sudden fog. "You... " she hesitated before continuing her sentence. "You said you wanted our opinions on the house?"
"Yeah," he replied, the fog seeming to lift from his countenance. "The plans are in here. I was just about to go over them before Alfred called. I'm not sure I like what the decorator wants to do with the upstairs though." He led them into what might have been a living room, but was now full of sawhorses and power tools. On a makeshift table, many blue prints and home interior swatch books were laid out.
Staring down at the sketches, Lana shook her head. "I thought you said you wanted to restore the house," she said.
"I am... well, the exterior, anyway. But I'm afraid François has his own ideas about the interior. I just want something simple and homey." Bruce shook his head. "Maybe I should have made myself more clear when he asked what I was looking for."
"What did you tell him?" Lana couldn't get over François's sketches and selected swatches. They were neither simple nor homey, and certainly not "Smallville" by any standards.
"Different," Bruce admitted sheepishly. Different. Lana had to remind herself that "different" to Bruce Wayne would be normal for everyone else. Apparently, François had forgotten that, too.
*&*&*&*
"Different," Lana told Clark later that evening. They were sitting on the front porch of Lana's house, drinking lemonade while they caught up. Clark smelled like fresh cut hay and had little flecks of the dried grass on his tee shirt.
"Different?" her friend echoed. "That's all he told the guy?"
"I guess so," she laughed a little. "So, what do you think about the offer?"
"Well, it's... neat," Clark told her, fumbling over the words in a way that made Lana think he wasn't totally sincere.
"You're okay with me helping Bruce, right, Clark?" Not that it mattered. Clark wasn't her boyfriend or legal guardian, and he really didn't get a say in what she did with her life. Besides, Nell was helping Bruce, too, and as long as Nell didn't object, no one else had the right to, either. "I thought you liked Bruce."
Clark fidgeted. "Mr. Wayne's okay," he said. "He's done good things for Smallville and for my family in particular, but he's like..."
"Like what? Like Lex? Rich and dashing and fun to be with?" Lana didn't understand Clark sometimes. He was the first one to stick up for Lex Luthor when no one else would, but he seemed be having a hard time being equally accepting of Bruce Wayne.
"Worldly, I was going to say," Clark defended himself, blushing awkwardly. "I just don't understand what a rich guy like him would want in a small town like this or with people like you and me."
"But you don't feel that way about Lex?"
"Lex is different."
The words sounded hollow in Lana's ears, as if Clark had made them up on the spur of the moment and knew how false they were. If she didn't know any better, she'd swear he was jealous of Bruce. Shrugging off the idea, she shook her head sadly. "Have you heard from Lex since we got back from Gotham?" she asked.
Clark shook his head slightly. "He told me to call, but when I do, he's always too busy to talk. I dunno; I think something big is happening with LuthorCorp right now."
Lana thought so, too, actually. While the Talon afforded her at the very least one conference call with Lex a month, she had also gotten the feeling the younger Luthor was busier than he'd ever been in his entire life. She'd actually been surprised to see him in Gotham, and even more surprised to see him so laid back while they were there. He really seemed like he was having fun with Bruce and--
Oh. He had been having fun with Bruce; they all had, in fact. Could that be why Clark was acting so weird? Because Lex was so buddy-buddy with Bruce Wayne? She remembered when Pete thought Lex was going to steal Clark away from him last year. It hadn't happened, of course, but Pete had treated Lex pretty badly all the same.
"I'm sorry, Clark," she told him and meant it, past annoyances aside. "I'm sure Lex wishes he had more time for his friends, too."
"Yeah, I guess so," Clark muttered. "So... hear anything from Whitney these days?"
Whitney. Yeah, great way to change the subject, Clark, Lana silently accused him. "Yeah," she said aloud. "I got a letter from him yesterday, actually."
"Did he... say anything good?" Clark asked, not seeming to notice the way Lana was now glaring at him.
"I don't know; I haven't read it yet," she lied. She really did not want to talk about Whitney. Not even with Clark. Especially not with Clark. He wouldn't understand what it felt like to be trapped in a lie, and that's what her relationship with Whitney Fordman was starting to feel like--one big lie that had gotten way out of hand. "What about you?" she asked in an attempt to avoid furthering the whole Whitney conversation. "Hear anything from Chloe or Pete?"
At Chloe's name, Clark got the goofiest grin on his face. Lana vaguely remembered what it felt like to smile whenever someone mentioned the person you love. "Chloe sent me a copy of her first byline in the Planet," he told her before launching into a retelling of Chloe's summer adventures. Well, the ones she'd shared with him, Lana supposed. Chloe was staying with her cousin, Lois, again and, from the sounds of things, there were some tidbits she probably left out of her escapades. Lana made a mental note to e-mail Chloe later for some of the juicier gossip.
"That soon?" Bruce was asking the cell phone in his hand as he approached the screen door of the old farmhouse. He smiled when he saw them standing there and motioned them to come inside, as he continued to talk. "Lana and her aunt just got here. Potter," he told the person he was talking to. He pronounced it as 'aahnt' as opposed to the usual Americanized 'ant'--a gentle reminder that he'd been raised by an English servant and reared in English boarding schools. "She runs the florist shop in town." Presently he covered the mouthpiece of cellular phone with his hand and mouthed the name of his guardian/butler in his guests' direction.
Lana returned the smile he flashed them both with one tentative smile of her own, looking around the gutted exterior of the home. It seemed so sterile and cold to her. Empty and desolate, and yet, she had a feeling that before long, the new owner would have it filled with life.
"Alright," he told Alfred as he began walking back towards them. "Have Gregory fax the new reports to my office. I'll look them over when I get back from Metropolis later this week. Thanks, Alfred," he added with a small smile. He came to stand next to Lana and Nell, sighing as he did so. "Sometimes I wonder how my father ran it all by himself," he said in response to their questioning gazes. "Nothing seems to work without me these days."
"Newsweek says Wayne Enterprises is actually bigger now than it was when your father was... ran it," Nell commented clumsily.
Bruce nodded slowly, seemingly lost in some deep thought for a moment. "I... think it might be," he muttered, shaking his head.
Lana marveled at this--he was so confident one minute and so confused the next, as if his mind had fallen under a sudden fog. "You... " she hesitated before continuing her sentence. "You said you wanted our opinions on the house?"
"Yeah," he replied, the fog seeming to lift from his countenance. "The plans are in here. I was just about to go over them before Alfred called. I'm not sure I like what the decorator wants to do with the upstairs though." He led them into what might have been a living room, but was now full of sawhorses and power tools. On a makeshift table, many blue prints and home interior swatch books were laid out.
Staring down at the sketches, Lana shook her head. "I thought you said you wanted to restore the house," she said.
"I am... well, the exterior, anyway. But I'm afraid François has his own ideas about the interior. I just want something simple and homey." Bruce shook his head. "Maybe I should have made myself more clear when he asked what I was looking for."
"What did you tell him?" Lana couldn't get over François's sketches and selected swatches. They were neither simple nor homey, and certainly not "Smallville" by any standards.
"Different," Bruce admitted sheepishly. Different. Lana had to remind herself that "different" to Bruce Wayne would be normal for everyone else. Apparently, François had forgotten that, too.
*&*&*&*
"Different," Lana told Clark later that evening. They were sitting on the front porch of Lana's house, drinking lemonade while they caught up. Clark smelled like fresh cut hay and had little flecks of the dried grass on his tee shirt.
"Different?" her friend echoed. "That's all he told the guy?"
"I guess so," she laughed a little. "So, what do you think about the offer?"
"Well, it's... neat," Clark told her, fumbling over the words in a way that made Lana think he wasn't totally sincere.
"You're okay with me helping Bruce, right, Clark?" Not that it mattered. Clark wasn't her boyfriend or legal guardian, and he really didn't get a say in what she did with her life. Besides, Nell was helping Bruce, too, and as long as Nell didn't object, no one else had the right to, either. "I thought you liked Bruce."
Clark fidgeted. "Mr. Wayne's okay," he said. "He's done good things for Smallville and for my family in particular, but he's like..."
"Like what? Like Lex? Rich and dashing and fun to be with?" Lana didn't understand Clark sometimes. He was the first one to stick up for Lex Luthor when no one else would, but he seemed be having a hard time being equally accepting of Bruce Wayne.
"Worldly, I was going to say," Clark defended himself, blushing awkwardly. "I just don't understand what a rich guy like him would want in a small town like this or with people like you and me."
"But you don't feel that way about Lex?"
"Lex is different."
The words sounded hollow in Lana's ears, as if Clark had made them up on the spur of the moment and knew how false they were. If she didn't know any better, she'd swear he was jealous of Bruce. Shrugging off the idea, she shook her head sadly. "Have you heard from Lex since we got back from Gotham?" she asked.
Clark shook his head slightly. "He told me to call, but when I do, he's always too busy to talk. I dunno; I think something big is happening with LuthorCorp right now."
Lana thought so, too, actually. While the Talon afforded her at the very least one conference call with Lex a month, she had also gotten the feeling the younger Luthor was busier than he'd ever been in his entire life. She'd actually been surprised to see him in Gotham, and even more surprised to see him so laid back while they were there. He really seemed like he was having fun with Bruce and--
Oh. He had been having fun with Bruce; they all had, in fact. Could that be why Clark was acting so weird? Because Lex was so buddy-buddy with Bruce Wayne? She remembered when Pete thought Lex was going to steal Clark away from him last year. It hadn't happened, of course, but Pete had treated Lex pretty badly all the same.
"I'm sorry, Clark," she told him and meant it, past annoyances aside. "I'm sure Lex wishes he had more time for his friends, too."
"Yeah, I guess so," Clark muttered. "So... hear anything from Whitney these days?"
Whitney. Yeah, great way to change the subject, Clark, Lana silently accused him. "Yeah," she said aloud. "I got a letter from him yesterday, actually."
"Did he... say anything good?" Clark asked, not seeming to notice the way Lana was now glaring at him.
"I don't know; I haven't read it yet," she lied. She really did not want to talk about Whitney. Not even with Clark. Especially not with Clark. He wouldn't understand what it felt like to be trapped in a lie, and that's what her relationship with Whitney Fordman was starting to feel like--one big lie that had gotten way out of hand. "What about you?" she asked in an attempt to avoid furthering the whole Whitney conversation. "Hear anything from Chloe or Pete?"
At Chloe's name, Clark got the goofiest grin on his face. Lana vaguely remembered what it felt like to smile whenever someone mentioned the person you love. "Chloe sent me a copy of her first byline in the Planet," he told her before launching into a retelling of Chloe's summer adventures. Well, the ones she'd shared with him, Lana supposed. Chloe was staying with her cousin, Lois, again and, from the sounds of things, there were some tidbits she probably left out of her escapades. Lana made a mental note to e-mail Chloe later for some of the juicier gossip.