Bobby Valentine’s eyes narrowed, but he asked the next question on his list. “How did you come to live here on this island?”

“I was lucky. I was looking for a place to live, a community where I could raise my son and earn a living, and I remembered this place. I had…” Here she stumbled at bit. “I had been on the island when I was a kid. I came back here just to look around. And I stayed.” She smiled, realizing what a sanitized version she was presenting of her life. No mention of dropping out of college pregnant, no mention of the irreparable rift with her parents. But also no mention of someone who needed recognition, who needed mentioning. “I was very lucky to meet up with Noel Roberts when I got here,” she added quickly.

Bobby Valentine looked startled, but he picked up on her cue. “Noel Roberts?” he repeated the name as a question.

“Noel was the owner, the creator actually, of Island Contracting. He trained me as a carpenter, and when he died, I inherited the company from him-”

“Cut!”

Josie was startled. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you just tell all our viewers that this man, this Noel Roberts, was your lover?”

“No, I told you. He was my friend.”

“He left you a company out of friendship?” Bobby Valentine asked.

“Some friend,” the cameraman muttered, fussing with his lens.

“Yes. He did. And he deserves credit for creating the company. Why did you stop the camera?”

“Thought we needed to chat for a minute. Let’s get going.”

Josie nodded. The cameraman looked through his viewfinder. Bobby Valentine asked another question. “How long have you owned Island Contracting?”

That one was easy. “Over three years.”

“Do you happen to know how many remodeling projects you’ve been involved in during that time?”

Josie frowned before remembering that making faces on camera wasn’t particularly appealing. “Heavens, I don’t know. At least five houses, maybe more. And we’ve done other projects as well. Small carpentry jobs like building shelves over at the island’s hardware store and putting in skylights for one of the realtors on Ocean Avenue. We built the Christmas display that is set up on the island every year. And we do some nautical things-we’ve worked on docks just like this one.” She smacked the rail for emphasis and was startled when the wood cracked and a piece fell into the water. “Not this one, of course. The docks we’ve rebuilt don’t fall apart.”

“ Island Contracting’s location is unique, but there’s something even more interesting about your company. I understand you hire only women workers. Why is that?”

“That’s not exactly true. I mean, it’s not a company policy. It just happens to work out like that.” She stopped. The questions were getting closer to things she didn’t want to discuss. “ Island Contracting, in Noel’s time, did try to hire people who needed a second chance in life.” She paused again. “A lot of them happened to be women. And,” she added, becoming enthusiastic as she realized they had segued to a safe topic, “you have to remember how much things have changed since Island Contracting was created. Women began training in the trades in the late sixties and early seventies, but even now there are companies that go out of their way to only hire men. For some women, a place like Island Contracting is a miracle as well as the only opportunity they’ve been offered to use their skills professionally.

“You know, Bobby, there are government-sponsored programs to get women off welfare and into the workforce. And some of those programs have only recently discovered that people in the trades-electricians, plumbers, carpenters, rockers, and others-are in an ideal position to change their lives. We pay living wages and sometimes can adjust the work hours to accommodate women who are raising small children and- Oh!” She broke off. “I’m sorry. I called you Bobby. I forgot.”

“Don’t worry. Your answer was too long. And Courtney has included information about those programs in two of her show introductions. We’ll just edit that out.

“Now, let’s see.” He looked down at his list. “Where did you learn your trade? Did you go to school?”

Josie remembered Courtney’s Ivy League T-shirt and sighed. “Actually, I… ah, didn’t finish college. And I learned my job right here. At Island Contracting.” At least she didn’t have to admit to only completing one semester of college. But between the coffee stain and some judicious editing on the part of Courtney’s staff, she was fairly sure she’d come off looking stupid as well as sloppy. Why, she wondered as Bobby Valentine asked the next question calling for a revealing answer, had she agreed to be a part of Courtney Castle’s Castles?

SEVEN

AS THE FIRST day of shooting Courtney Castle’s Castles continued, the crowds, discouraged by police efforts to keep anyone from seeing anything interesting, dispersed and returned to the sand and surf. Josie and her crew weren’t lucky enough to have that option.

After the interview was over, Josie hurried back to work. They were going to frame in the extension at the back of the house before opening that wall to the outside. The same thing would be done in the front, and then, when the interior walls had been removed and if the good weather held, the upward expansion would begin. The entire project was scheduled to take six weeks. Each week Courtney and/or her crew would be on hand for at least two days of taping. The end result was to be a completely remodeled house and one fund-raising television series.

Her crew had begun marking out the new foundation. Here on the bay, the only foundation possible was of pilings pounded into the ground by the same company that did underwater work for docks and bridges. It was a unique process, and the show was interested in taping this part of the construction.

And Josie was interested in moving beyond the interview stage.

Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who felt this way. As soon as the television crew was out of hearing range, the complaints began.

“God, why do they want to know so many personal things about us?” Jill said, pulling her T-shirt away from her body. The sun was bright and the women were sweating as they worked.

“Nosy parkers,” Dottie muttered.

Josie raised her eyebrows. That seemed like an awfully subdued reaction from the person she had expected to find the most upset. “They did ask some awfully personal questions,” she commented.

“At least the producer interviewed you. We got stuck with that kid intern. He asked me where I grew up, when I decided to be a carpenter, how I learned my trade, what led me to Island Contracting. I wanted to tell that young punk that he could just mind his own business!” Jill said angrily.

“I think he’s cute.” Annette spoke up. “We ran into each other last night at that pizza place on the boardwalk and had dinner together.”

“That kid wearing the Cornell T-shirt? Are you nuts? He’s the product of some prep school in a wealthy suburb. His parents have so much money, he doesn’t even have to get one of those easy summer jobs that most kids have. He’s an intern. An intern!” Dottie made the term sound like something awful. “And just in case you’re getting any ideas, I can tell you that he’s not going to be interested in a carpenter. Those Ivy League types are only slumming when they’re being nice to the likes of us.”

Annette put down the plumb line she was using and looked straight at Dottie. “What about Josie and Sam? He’s a lawyer and she’s just a carpenter…” She glanced over at Josie.

“I don’t think of myself as ‘just a carpenter.’ And Sam doesn’t either,” Josie said. “And if you like this guy, go for it.”

Annette’s face broke into a large smile. “He asked me to go out with him tonight. I said I didn’t know what time we’d be finished work-”