“Serena is all those things, but—”
“I knew it! Anytime you mention someone’s daughter—”
“She’s also married with two children.”
That took the wind out of his righteous indignation. “Oh.”
“Oh is right. May I speak without you interrupting now?”
Dean sighed away his resistance. After twenty-eight years, he knew it was easier to just let her say her piece. And on the bright side, she didn’t seem to have a clue about his current business concerns. “Go ahead.”
“Serena is friends with Maria’s employer’s daughter, and both of them happen to live out here in Boulder.”
He tensed all over again, his gut screaming they were heading back into matchmaker territory. He didn’t have time for his mother to be meddling in his life right now.
“Good for them. What’s that got to do with me?”
“Maria remembered me mentioning that you just built a new house, and she wondered if you’d consider hiring Gina as your interior decorator.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s good. All we’re asking is for you to meet with the girl and see if you like her work.”
“How does Maria know my house isn’t decorated yet?”
“Because I told her.”
Of course she did. And now he was one hundred percent certain his stepdad hadn’t broken his confidence. If he had, his mother wouldn’t be asking him to spend money he didn’t have right now. “I’m in the middle of a program design, Mom. I really don’t have time to worry about whether or not I’ve got pictures hanging on my walls.”
“Interior design is so much more than pictures, Dean. You need to do something to make that house into a home, otherwise it’s just a pile of logs and empty rooms.”
Here’s where she’d break out her consuming desire for grandkids. With his two step-sisters still in college, it all fell on his shoulders. His fingers tightened on the phone as he waited for the usual spiel. Easier to endure that than tell her the truth.
“It will be painless, I assure you. Serena has her first art showing tomorrow night at the Barclay Gallery downtown, and I’m sure Gina will be there. You might even find some artwork you like.”
Classic set up. The girl probably couldn’t design her way out of a wet paper bag. “I told you, I don’t have time right now,” he repeated. “I’ve got at least a week or two of twenty hour days ahead of me.”
“You can’t spare one hour to stop by her office?”
“No.”
“Fine, then I’ll have her come to the house,” his mother offered. “Just tell me a time that works for you.”
He wasn’t stupid. There was more to this than she was currently saying, so he repeated his earlier question with enough inflection to let her know only the whole story would get her what she wanted. “Why?”
After a moment of hesitation, she admitted, “The girl has run into a bit of financial trouble and could use the work. But you cannot let her know you know that.”
Frickin’ wonderful. A charity case.
He glared out the windshield toward the neon sign of the club. Out here, the music was only faintly audible whenever the door opened to let someone in or out. He should’ve stayed inside with Mike, then he could’ve ignored the call. Problem was, he did have work to get done if he didn’t want Brady to screw him over yet again.
Why the hell should he have to be inconvenienced in his personal life so his mom could help out the friend of her friend’s daughter who didn’t have enough sense to handle her money right?
Every instinct told him to say no thanks and hang up the phone, but his mother had always supported him in anything he did. Her steadfast belief had helped build his business, and he knew if she was aware of the issues he faced today, she’d be right at his side again. Which made it that much harder to say no to her.
Resignation settled in. “You swear this isn’t a set-up?”
“I promise, sweetheart. I’m just trying to help out a friend. Fifteen minutes is all I’m asking for. Please?”