“So I see.” His mouth still wasn’t smiling, but his voice was warmer, more amused. At least he wasn’t entirely put off by my steamroller act. That was something.
“But it’s your project,” I assured him. The big dog had stayed in the living room in its bed but now ambled toward us, making me speak faster. “We’ll work to your taste and vision.”
“I don’t have a vision.” He went right back to scowling even as he held out a hand for the dog, petting her furry head. She might be the size of a small donkey, but she did seem tame enough.
“Sure you do.” I tried to focus on the issue at hand rather than my own weird nerves around large dogs. “What was your vision when you bought the place?”
His expression immediately clouded. “Flip the place and move on.”
Well, okay then. He clearly hadn’t, instead staying, and I was desperate to know more, but his posture had gone ice sculpture stiff again.
“We’ll keep an eye to resale value then,” I said brightly, not about to press him. “And what will make a good impression on your future sister-in-law. Any idea as to her tastes?”
“Expensive.” His tone was clipped enough that even the dog sat up straighter.
“Oh dear.” That was going to be a challenge. There was no escaping that this was a humble midcentury house with gorgeous bones, but glitzy was going to be a tall order. “Maybe if we stick to a classic scheme…
“Wait. That’s not entirely true.” Paul pulled out his phone, thumbed it open. “Elaine’s parents are the ones who are loaded. Her condo with Brandon is modern, but she has pictures all over. Like she does these little displays. Brandon sent me some to brag on her.”
He held out the phone, and I stepped closer so I could see the pictures he was scrolling. As usual, he smelled so good that I had to make myself look at the phone and not do something embarrassing like sigh dreamily. The photos showed a loft-style condo, very open but with a lived-in feel. And lots of personal photos on the wall, arranged like something off a lifestyle blog. “Our First Date” in flowy script, surrounded by pics of some museum exhibit, complete with ticket stubs. Another grouping announced, “Life’s a Beach,” and had sand and seashells along with smiling faces. Most of the pictures on the walls featured a younger, nerdier guy with enough Paul in him to have to be Brandon and a slim, dark-haired twenty-something woman gazing adoringly at the guy.
“Oh, that is darling,” I enthused as Paul flipped through photos. The style was a little too magazine-perfect for me, but I appreciated the care Elaine had put into her displays. “Yes, yes, I can work with this vibe. She’s the sentimental type, even if she does appreciate quality.”
“Sentiment is overrated, but I guess I’ll leave it to you.” Sighing, he pocketed the phone again.
“You do that.” I jotted down some more ideas inspired by the pictures. This was a young woman who was absolutely going to want photos of the proposal, so the backdrop mattered. I didn’t know her, but Paul’s brother clearly mattered to him, and if Paul wanted a perfect holiday for them, then that was exactly what they were going to get.
“Do we have to do it all tonight?” Paul asked, looking over at my shoulder at my rapidly growing list of notes. The same weariness he’d had when he’d opened the door was back. Whatever was going on, there were some big emotions behind it.
“No, of course not. This is a lot. I get it.” Turning, I touched his sleeve, but he quickly stepped away.
“It’s not too much.” He was a terrible liar, but I also knew when not to press on a sore spot.
“Fair enough. These things are always best handled in stages though.” I clicked over to my calendar app. “Tomorrow, I have to finish my own decorating in the morning, then I’m helping a few other residents in the afternoon. In the evening, I’m going to work on this list for you. How about Saturday, I return with a plan, and we can see more of what we’re working with here?”
“You sure do seem to have it all figured out.”
I really didn’t. And if anything, Paul Frost was even more of an intriguing mystery than he had been before, but if he wanted to view me as someone who had the answers he needed, I’d take it. I’d simply have to ensure I didn’t disappoint.
Chapter Seven
Thank you, Gideon, for helping solve our extension cord dilemma! Now we’re ready for December! ~ The Clarks posted to the What’s Up Neighbor app
Paul
Gideon was a man with a plan, and that worried me. Especially when he turned up with a thick stack of printout pages, a legal pad, and, lord help us, fabric samples.
“These are simply to get a feel for colors,” he said breezily as he sauntered into my house. Other people walked. Gideon sauntered. No bow tie today, but he didn’t need it. He managed to look fresh and crisp in a polo with the college’s logo and pressed khakis. Again, my urge to rumple him up was strong. But it was the determined attitude that truly scared me.
“The tree will go there.” He pointed to the same spot Brandon had liked. A cozy corner, it would be visible from the front window without blocking the window seat or the built-ins. “And the couch will go opposite with some side chairs…”
“Gideon,” I interrupted, feeling a bit like I was about to pop a balloon. “No offense, but can we talk budget for a sec? How much is this gonna cost me?”
The business did well enough, but this was the time of year my crew came first. Limited hours meant limited paychecks, and making sure they had enough to get by was my priority, not buying out the furniture store.
“Oh, that.” Gideon waved a hand. “I’m pleased to report a minimum outlay per room will be required.”
“Simple words, please.” I ran my own business. I could talk construction estimates with the best of them, but it had taken several years of community college classes at night to get a basic sense of business lingo. Gideon already had me unsettled, and that was before he trotted out the big vocabulary.