A PLACE TO DANCE.

BY.

ALI VALI.

I want to thank my betas for correcting this for me. Beth, Jaden, my Florida buddy, and Ken, you are all G.o.dsends. I bow to your grammatical knowledge.

I would also like to thank all the wonderful people who take the time to read these stories. Thank you for all the great notes you have sent. I appreciate them all.

This is dedicated as always to the one woman who holds my heart.

As in all things you've taught me to enjoy life and to live it so it makes me want to dance.

A PLACE TO DANCE.

CHAPTER 1.

TIM ANDOLINI LOOKED at the blonde sitting across from him and sighed. Sometimes it just sucked to be married, especially when someone like Christina Griffin walked in and turned your brain to mush. Women who looked as good as Christina could make you forget your name and your religion in the wisp of one flirty smile. Thirty seconds into his fantasy of Christina dancing for him in a bikini Tim remembered had a wife and two children.

"Ms. Griffin, my partner called this morning and said the foundation has been poured with no problems. If this weather holds, construction will begin next Monday." Tim pointed out the large expanse of windows in his office to point out the blue cloudless skies. "If you have any questions you can call either myself or Jolly, and we'll be happy to help."

"Thanks, Tim. Let's hope this weather does hold. I've discovered I'm not one for apartment living. My house sold sooner than I thought so I didn't have much of a choice but to move into what seems like a box with three small windows. I'm looking forward to the s.p.a.ce this is going to give me." Christina tapped her finger on the house plans spread out over Tim's desk.

Christina had found the architectural firm of Andolini and Andolini through a friend and so far had been impressed with their work. The house Jolly Andolini had designed was going to be built on a large parcel of land Christina's parents had given her as a graduation present a couple of years before.

For years young professionals stayed in the city's old neighborhoods, preferring the charm of New Orleans's architectural masterpieces of wood and slate erected decades before, to the stodginess of the suburbs. The sh.o.r.es of the lake were left either in their natural states or were inhabited by older generations looking for a quiet lifestyle. A paradise for the lovers of Purple Martins that came in the spring to roast under the Lake Ponchatrain's twenty four mile long bridge, leaving for warmer climates in the fall.

Surprisingly it was the flocking Martins that brought a renewed interest to the area. Bird lovers of every age sat on the lake's levees every afternoon to watch the ma.s.sive black cloud of birds return to their nests for the night after consuming their weight in mosquitoes as if someone had rung a recess bell. After the nightly show people went back to watching the mult.i.tude of boats that glided over the brown murky waters of Louisiana's greatest body of water.

Jolly seemed to have understood the specialness of the area, creating a home that would blend in with the woods and Lake Ponchatrain at the back of the property. The house the young architect had designed called for large plantation style windows that not only would infuse the rooms with light, but serve as a perfect place to see the natural beauty of the area. From the veranda of the master bedroom suite, Christina could sit and either watch the flight of the punctual insect eating machines or the ancient willows and magnolias that had stood witness to the area's history unfolding over the years. The small blonde was looking forward to meeting Tim's partner who was an apparent artist at the drafting table.

"Will the infamous Jolly ever be around for me to thank for this great house you two are building me?"

"Jolly isn't much for being in the office on days like this, Ms. Griffin," said Tim with a smile. He rolled up her plans and placed them in a tube for her to take with her. "Remember, it's not too late if you want to make changes to the rooms."

"Thanks, Tim, I'll expect an update from you when we start."

They shook hands and Tim stood by the windows to watch Christina leave. She removed the tailored jacket of her suit and threw it and the house plans into the pa.s.senger seat before getting into the midnight blue BMW z3. The voyeur enjoyed the flash of leg he got as she slid into the small car. The ringing phone on his desk was what pulled him away from watching the car backing out below.

"Who are you checking out now?"

Tim dropped into his office chair and started twirling a pen in his hand to keep from laughing. "I could be hard at work you know."

"Yeah, and I could build the Eiffel Tower out of toothpicks but I don't see that happening, buddy. Was Ms. Griffin happy with her final draft?" Jolly walked up the levee to look at the lake and get away from the noise of the trucks delivering the lumber they would need for the next week.

"Very pleased. Her only disappointment was the genius who did them wasn't here to bask in her praise."

"That's what I have you for, Timmy, to charm the clients into loving the plans of what will eventually be. I'm sure 'the hot babe' as you call her would rather I see to the construction of her house," said Jolly.

"Tell me again why you went to school to become an architect, if all you really wanted to do is be a carpenter? You should've gone to contractor school. I believe one of the courses was how to spit, scream at laborers and get your pants to hang low enough to see the top of your b.u.t.t crack. I'm fairly sure you would've aced it. I've heard that mouth of yours, you're like a sailor when you want to be." Tim propped his feet on his desk prepared to fight their ongoing argument. "Think of how many more projects we could take on if you didn't insist on overseeing and partic.i.p.ating in the building phase."

"Tim, I told you before, take on as many projects as you want, but..."

"I know, I know. When someone spends this kind of money and has envisioned this kind of s.p.a.ce, they deserve your all. I just worry about you."

"I know, Timmy, it's why I love you so much," said Jolly.

"You aren't your old man, Jolly. Cookie cutter isn't your style, and that's why I love you so much."

"Thanks, buddy, but think, if you'd stayed with the firm you'd be rich by now," teased Jolly.

"True, but you seem to attract all the beautiful artsy kinda of people who wouldn't go near Uncle Anthony so it's an even trade. Thanks to you I can live vicariously in my own little twisted fantasies."

"I'll make sure and mention that to Pam the next time I see her."

"Pam knows what I'm capable of and she married me anyway. Good thing there's a large streak of mental illness running down the center of her family tree. Now get going and see if all of your wood arrived." Tim dropped his feet to the ground and hung up the phone.

As he turned the light on over his drafting table he thought about his relationship with Jolly. He was convinced it was their partnership, which had kept his work clean and fresh. Unlike some of their cla.s.smates who had gone to the large firms and lost the creativity that had driven them to study architecture in the first place, Tim was proud of every project.

He and Jolly specialized in building things that became an extension of their surroundings. In their six short years together as business partners, they had made Architectural Digest ten times, so despite his grumbling, they were doing more than all right. They had a waiting list of projects for people who were willing to put off construction for at least a year, rather than to going on without their designs.

From the start he knew their partnership would be a success considering they'd seen each other almost every day from the time of their birth. Jolly had stood by him through every major event in his life offering praise or a shoulder to cry on depending on what fate threw his way. If there was one thing in his life Tim never questioned it was Jolly's being there for him and his family.

The only other project Tim and his wife Pam worked on constantly was getting Jolly married and settled. His cousin was almost relationship phobic after a lifetime of watching her parents go at each other with hateful intent. Anthony Holland, Jolly's father, wasn't someone who tolerated dissent well, especially from his children. The big man had used his height and bulk to intimidate and bully his family into what he wanted from them. All of his children had succ.u.mbed to his wishes except for one.

Jolly had almost gone out of her way to follow her heart to a life that made her happy, but made Anthony's blood pressure rise. The only thing father and daughter had in common was that they were both architects, albeit successful for different reasons. Tim remembered the day Jolly packed up her office at her father's firm and walked out. Before leaving she told him he had sold his work out for the money and his family's love because of his need for control. Her cousin would've applauded her if he hadn't been holding a box filled with his own stuff. To complete her break from her father, Jolly had taken her mother's maiden name as a tribute to her grandfather. Papa Francois, as Tim and Jolly called him, was the real reason Jolly had studied architecture.

The two young Andolinis had started with a small office and a few clients willing to take a chance. Within six months their gamble had paid off and it irked Anthony that the two children who had run around together from the time they were toddlers had clawed their way to a stellar reputation one project at a time. The old man had expected his daughter and nephew to come crawling back three months from the day they both walked out. Jolly's mother had often commented that of all the Holland and Andolini children, Jolly and Tim had been the two who inherited Papa Francois's looks. Their grandfather had been a hero to both children, but especially to Jolly. Francois's children had married two very different people, but his two first-born grandchildren had formed a bond that time had only strengthened.

"How'd the meeting go? All set to build next week?" asked Lisa Whitney. She had been Christina's a.s.sistant for three years. Together with a small staff they ran one of the largest and most successful art galleries in New Orleans.

"Seems that way, if it doesn't start to rain every day. I'm praying that doesn't happen since I haven't been able to find half my stuff in all the boxes around that apartment you found for me. I hope you like this outfit and the other three I've managed to put together. They're the only ones I have at the moment. I'm starting to think the movers tossed some boxes out along the way so they wouldn't have to carry them upstairs."

Lisa laughed at her boss. The woman was known for her organizational skills as well as her ability to find new and exciting artists. Having been exiled to a small s.p.a.ce for about eight months was about to kill her. "I'll say a prayer for drought conditions until you're done."

"Thanks. Has the stuff for the new show started to arrive yet?" Christina walked to her office past the empty walls that had been cleared for an opening they were hosting at the end of the next week.

"The truck is at Mimi's studio now, so they should be able to start hanging by tomorrow morning. Before you ask, the invitations have been sent out and Amy's working on calling the "A" list so we have good attendance."

Christina smiled up from the ton of mail on her desk glad she had found the young woman who had a knack for reading her mind. "I want to sell as many pieces as possible opening night. Mimi's going to be a hot commodity after this and I want her experience with us to be memorable."

"Yes, captain. Anything else?"

"Yes, see if you can clear some time for me next week so I can drive out to the property and check out the progress of the construction. I think it'll be fun to see it the whole way through."

"Boss?" the question came through the intercom on Christina's desk.

"Yes, Amy?"

"Mimi Mulle's on line one for you."

Christina picked up the receiver and answered with her most professional voice. "Mimi, hi. I was just talking about you. Did the guys get there all right?"

"They're packing up crates as we speak. I just wanted to call and let you know I'll be out of town for a couple of days so just leave a message if you need anything. I'll be checking the machine throughout the weekend."

"Have fun and don't worry about any of your stuff. We'll get together at the beginning of next week to make sure you're happy with the display before the opening."

"Thanks, Chris. I'm looking forward to working with you. I've got every confidence in you and Lisa to make the show a success. Call me if you have any problems."

Christina dedicated the rest of the weekend to emptying as many boxes as she could so there would be a chance of her wearing something else besides the few outfits she was able to find and hang in her closet. She had driven out to the construction site of her house and was pleased by how few trees had to be cleared away to make room for the foundation slab. The large multi-leveled piece of cement looked like a blank canvas to her just waiting for someone to come along and create something wonderful.

Christina smiled thinking of the first day she had walked this little piece of the world that belonged to her. Her father had inherited the land from an aunt, and when he saw the light that filtered through the trees in the afternoon, he thought Christina would be in heaven if she had a studio there one day. That dream was getting closer and she couldn't wait to get back to her true pa.s.sion, which was painting.

The phone on her hip buzzed and Christina's smile grew bigger when she saw it was her parent's cell number. "Hi, guys," she said brightly into the phone knowing her parents would each be listening in on the other end.

"Hi, sweetheart. What's got you out so early already on a Sunday morning?" asked Hillary her mother.

"Just checking my land, ma," teased Christina.

"I still can't believe you're building a house and you've never met the architect. This person could be a nut for all you know," chastised Hillary.

"Hill, leave her alone. I'm sure Chris knows what she's doing, and I've looked at the prints myself and they look like a winner, baby." There wasn't much Dell Griffin wasn't willing to side with his only child on. He had watched the bubbly child grow into a confident young woman and talented artist, so if she wanted to live in a tent under a tree it would have been fine with him.

"Thanks, daddy, and he's right, mom, I love the design Jolly came up with. The same firm built Marie and Allen's house and I hardly ever see them since they find it hard to walk out the door. When are you two due back?"

"Six weeks, sweetie, so call us if you need anything." Dell and Hillary were on their annual summer vacation in Europe, so except for the daily postcard Christina got, their phone calls were the only way she knew where they were for sure.

With one last look at the trees, cement and pile of lumber awaiting the crew the next morning, Christina drove back to the city missing Jolly driving up from the back of the property. The architect was there to check every plumbing and electrical connection coming out of the slab wanting everything to go smoothly the next day. Christina didn't know it, but Jolly had incorporated some of the designs she had been working on for her own house into the one they were going to start Monday.

"At least someone will enjoy all those pictures in my head since I doubt I'll ever build the one I'm thinking of," said Jolly to the trees around her. Mimi had been out of town visiting a friend for the weekend so Jolly found herself lost. It'd be good to get back to something she loved in the morning. Designing was fun, but watching it come to life was the best part.

"On three, ok?"

"You got it," said the row of workers waiting to lift the second section of outer wall into place. Starting at six that morning the workers had framed the studs that would anchor the skeleton to the outside of the first floor and had been working together to put them into place.

Jolly sat straddled at the top of a fifteen-foot ladder waiting for the long span of wood to be lifted so that she could hammer the supports into place. With any luck they could get the section they were working on done by lunch.

"Ok, one, two, up boys." She loved the smell of pine that came up to meet her when the wall came up. A quick hammer put the nails that would hold it up into place and Jolly was sliding down to scramble up to the other side to get the job done.

"Why fourteen feet, boss?" asked Hank, one of the master carpenters Jolly had contracted to work on the project.

"It's a fifteen foot levee, so if Ms. Griffin hopes to get a look at the lake from upstairs I thought I'd give her an un.o.bstructed view by going another four feet on each floor. With the two foot cross beams in between floors she'll get a great waterfront view from upstairs. The size of the house will make it look great and we'll be able to go bigger on the crown molding to bring the scale down a little." Jolly wiped her brow of the sweat already pouring out of her. With a pair of shorts, work boots, t-shirt and tool belt she blended in well with all the rest of the crew she had put together for this job.

The guys pulled out their coolers and headed for the trees for lunch. They loved working on any of Jolly and Tim's projects because Jolly was there for most of them working along side them to make sure the job met her specifications. At first they had doubts about working with the architect thinking that she would be there just to b.i.t.c.h about every aspect of the process, but those had quickly died when they saw her work. Jolly had a way with wood that could make any guy envious of her skill. The inside of the homes they had built together had a mix of gla.s.s and wood that gave them a uniquely stylish, but comfortable appearance. For a carpenter, Jolly's plans were always fun to put together.

"Boss, the lumber company's back with the cross beams for the second floor," said Buck, one of her helpers. He hated to disturb her as she poured over the plans but the guy making the delivery was anxious to get going for lunch himself.

"Put them by the back over there and tell the guys to tarp them after lunch. I don't want them warping if they get wet with dew out here in the morning. It'll be a couple, maybe three days before we need those anyway."

"Thanks, Jolly."

The work continued until six when they knocked off after getting up most of the framework for the walls downstairs. A small BMW pa.s.sed a line of old trucks coming out of the site on its way in. Christina waved to the tired looking group as she kept on toward what was starting to look like a house.

The next day, Christina made it a point to make it to the site before the crew left for the day to talk to the foreman and get his rough timeline on the completion date. When she drove up there was a crane lifting beams up to the two workers who were doing what looked like a high wire act on the top of the skeletal walls of the downstairs. Half of the pieces that would support the ceiling at the bottom and the floor at the top were in place and the artist found it funny they wouldn't finish one floor before starting in on the second.

Leaving her suit jacket on the seat next to her, Christina stepped out of the car and leaned against it as she watched one of the workers putting the beams in place. Oh my, she looks like a G.o.ddess up there, thought the blonde she shielded her eyes from the sun. Balanced on the b.a.l.l.s of her feet was a tall woman swinging a hammer. The long nails they were using to secure the long pieces were being driven with three forceful strokes, and Christina could see why that looked so easy when she looked at the heavily muscled tan skin on display.

"That will be the last one, Joe, then we'll take a break and let Buck and somebody else up here."

"You got it. Heads up, boss." The crane operator lifted the last beam and swung it into place waiting for the nails to go in before releasing the cable holding it up. None of the workers noticed the good looking woman move away from her car and walk into the site until she was standing below where the two workers where nailing the supports up.

Christina stood there and watched the woman finish her side, and was surprised when the worker did something the artist wasn't expecting. The female carpenter jumped from her perch, doing a back flip and landing two inches in front of her startled audience. By pure reflex, Jolly grabbed Christina as she was falling backward into a pile of sawdust. It was only after she had grabbed the smaller woman that Jolly remembered how dirty her hands were and from the feel of it, the shirtsleeves she had a hold of were fine Irish linen. And cream colored too. c.r.a.p this isn't my day. Jolly quickly released her captive hoping the woman would stay on her feet.

"Sorry, Ms. Griffin, I didn't see you standing there. If you send the cleaning bill to the office I'll have Tim take care of it. I really didn't mean to startle you."

Christina looked at the big hands the carpenter was holding up and didn't even want to see how much of the gunk covering them had been left on her clothes. "You big goober. Don't you know what you did was dangerous not only to me but to yourself as well. If this is how your foreman runs this place, one of you should be dead before the end of the month." The only thing missing from the tirade Christina had going was her finger poking Jolly in the chest. Most of the men hid their smiles behind rough hands as the small spitfire lit into their boss with a set of perfect handprints on her sleeves.