“How have you been?” Matt asks her.
She waves a hand through the air. The diamonds catch the light. She’s a real-life version of one of those princesses in the movies Mia watches. If she busts out a tiara, I won’t even blink.
“Oh, good. Busy. You know how it goes. We got the house decorated finally. My interior designer got behind schedule because her . . . Well, you guys probably don’t care.” She laughs. “I’m rambling. Just let me say that I’m really happy you could come out today and discuss my new project.”
Matt takes the lead, as I knew he would, and relays part of a conversation he had with Dane. I check out mentally. I only want to know what I need to know, and what Dane said about the subcontractor insurance doesn’t mean jack to me.
I don’t plan on falling off any kiddie ladders, unlike some people.
Instead, I take in the large, mostly vacant room.
The bookshelves that used to line the walls are gone. Everything looks clean and ready to go.
Besides the main room, there are a couple of offices and two meeting rooms down the hall to the right that we used to use for banquets and parties when I was growing up. It’s odd to see it so blank, but it should be fun, watching it transform into something new.
“I got the building permit this morning,” Meredith says, her heels clicking against the concrete floor. “They expedited it for me. It’s nice to have friends in high places.”
“I bet it is,” I say.
“My stepsons are supposed to come by this morning with the renovation plans. Jake drew them up for me based on a conversation we had last week, and Trevor created a budget.” Her eyes sparkle. “But you know how I am with budgets.”
“Yup. You pretty much ignore them,” I deadpan. “I think we quadrupled the budget for your house in paint alone.”
She points at me. “But I’ll have you know it was worth every penny. Bashful was the perfect choice for the sitting room. My husband agrees. It’s just so fun.”
“We’re glad you like it,” Matt says, casting me a warning to stay quiet about the ridiculousness of the same two shades of pink. “So what are we doing in here?”
She sets the dog down. Its claws mimic the sound of her heels as it races around the room, yapping at dust bunnies in the corners. When she stands, she presses her manicured nails together in front of her like she’s praying.
“This town has a lot of sports activities for kids, but there’s nothing for children that just want to be kids. Not every kid is athletic or wants to be an athlete,” she says.
“You mean you weren’t a soccer star?” I joke.
She laughs. “No. And I know you’re shocked.” She brushes a strand of hair out of her face. “There’s no community pool. The park is a wreck. And while I’m not a fan of arcades or pool halls or things of that nature, Dogwood Lane has none, anyway. So we’re going to fix that.” She walks to the far side of the room near the big, bright windows I hope she plans on keeping. “I know we have to do this in stages. Rome wasn’t built in a day, after all. But I want to really create the foundation of something truly special for the youth here.”
“Like a kids’ club or something?” Matt asks.
“Exactly.” She smiles wide. “The first phase will include framing up some of this giant room to be more intimate. Jake will have more information on that later today. He said he projects it will take about two weeks to get this part done. I’m not sure about the mural. That might take longer. Have I told you about the mural?”
“No,” I say.
“Oh, let me tell you all about it,” she almost squeals.
“Yay.”
Matt shoves my shoulder as we follow Meredith to the back wall.
“I have big ideas for this space,” she says. “I’m seeing something that screams quaint and community, something vibrant and fun. There’s supposed to be an artist coming by today to take a look at this and tell me what she can do. I . . .” She slides her phone out of her pocket. “I know this is rude, but I do need to take this. Can you two hold on?”
“Sure,” Matt says.
“It’s her world,” I mutter as she walks away. “We just live in it.”
Matt chuckles. He moseys around the room, surveying the space, as Meredith click-clacks her way out the front door with her puppy in her arms.
I follow a few steps behind Matt, trying to get an idea of how much work this thing is going to take. From what I can tell, two weeks sounds like plenty of time as long as some artist doesn’t come in and screw up our mojo.