Were Lynne and her husband color-blind? Interior renovation seemed like a bad idea for the color-blind. That was like vegans owning a barbecue restaurant.
This fireplace needed saving. This house needed saving.
Exuberant Pink was banned from this house forever.
In her mind’s eye, January could see herself living here. She would hang Baby Jenkowski’s stocking next to hers over this fireplace at Christmas and snuggle up with a roaring fire on one of the three bitter-cold days of winter in Austin. She’d fill the living room with colorful, funky furniture and tons of toys for the baby. This house would be loved.
A cool breeze tickled the back of her neck. She turned around, expecting to see Susie or Lynne, but no one was there. It was probably just the air-conditioning kicking on, only it was too cool outside for AC.
She walked to the window. It overlooked the backyard. It was perfect. Huge pecan trees shaded a third of the yard. Overgrown shrubs lined the fence. The grass was spotty and had seen better days, but she could fix that. All it needed was a little attention.
She felt a pat on her shoulder. She turned around, expecting to see Susie, but again, no one was there.
She should have been freaked out, but something about being in this house was calming. She felt a sense of peace and purpose she hadn’t felt since making the decision to open her own bar.
January followed the voices she’d heard in the hallway until she found the kitchen.
Unfortunately, the kitchen must have been the first room the color-blind remodelers had targeted.
It was part 1950s diner and part slaughterhouse. It had a black-and-white checkered floor and red walls. It looked like the walls were bleeding. She swiped at her eyes to make sure they weren’t actually bleeding.
“Don’t you just love it? It’s called ‘Futro’—that’s futuristic and retro. I came up with it. Futro is my design style.” Lynne seemed very proud of herself. “Would you like to see the rest of the house?”
“Sure.” January really didn’t want to see any more home improvement homicide, but she needed to see the space so she could make an offer.
“Let’s start with the master bedroom. We just finished it last week.” Lynne took January’s elbow and pulled her down a dark hallway and into a dark room.
Lynne flipped on the light, and the room was still dark. Apparently, she and her hubby had painted the walls, floors, and ceiling black. This room’s design style was less Futro and more 1970s Spaceship Porn. All it needed was some pow-chicka-pow-pow music.
Clear plastic orbs in different sizes hung from the ceiling on varying lengths of clear fishing line. Life-sized silver statues of naked men holding mirrored lights over their heads stood on either side of the bed. Large, white-plastic, curvy furniture dominated the room, but the bed really stole the show. It was round, covered in a silver satin bedspread, and sat on a pedestal of red shag carpet.
January glanced at Susie, whose mouth hung open. Susie’s eyes were the size of drink coasters.
“All of the pieces in here are custom made.” Lynne was all look-how-creative-I-am.
Thank God no one had mass-produced the décor. January hated to think that rooms all over the world might have been subjected to this.
Lynne ran her hand along the wall. “I did the walls in the finest Peruvian black velvet.”
Was Peru known for its velvet?
“My inspiration for this room was an old black velvet painting of Zeus that hung in my grandmother’s living room,” Lynne gushed.
Apparently, Lynne’s decorating skills had been passed down from her grandmother.
Lynne flicked the switch next to the light switch and an honest-to-God mirrored disco ball lowered from the ceiling. It began to spin, and light danced off the mirrors and onto all of those clear orbs. The result was nauseating and possibly seizure inducing.
“I know … it’s dramatic right?” Lynne definitely suffered from some sort of mental illness. “My husband and I sent in a demo to HGTV. Our agent thinks we’ve got a good shot at being the next Chip and Joanna.”
January bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing and just smiled and nodded.
Susie was still speechless. January might need to hold a mirror over her mouth just to make sure she was still breathing. She could see how Lynne’s designs could scare the life out of someone.
“Would you mind if I texted my brother to come over and look at the house?” January pulled her phone out of her back pocket. “He’s a contractor.”
“No, of course. Go right ahead. I’d love to get his take on Futro.” Lynne had self-confidence to spare. It was like a three-hundred-pound man strutting around the beach wearing nothing but a Speedo. That kind of overconfidence should be bottled and sold to people like Laney who refused to wear anything but a one-piece swimsuit that covered eighty percent of her body.
“I’m sure he’ll have a lot to say.” None of it would be good. January texted him the address along with a message asking him to please be nice.
“On to the master bath. I know you’re going to love it.” Lynne sauntered across the bloodred shag carpet to a set of silver double doors. “You’re in for a treat. I decided to go Grecian Futro in here.”
She stepped into the room and turned on the light. A Pepto-pink glow radiated from the bathroom. It looked like Exuberant Pink or one of its pinker counterparts had taken over the bathroom.
“I’m not sure I can handle much more Futro,” Susie whispered. “I think this woman is crazy, but I don’t think medication or therapy will help.”
January didn’t know how much more Futro she could handle either, but she wasn’t giving up on this house. It might take months, or even years, to undo the Futro, but she was up to the task.
* * *
Chapter 5
* * *
“I’m not sure I’ll recover from that house tour.” Susie sat on the front porch steps and huddled into herself like a car accident victim who might go into shock at any moment.
“I know what you mean.” January sat down next to her. “I’m really hard-pressed to decide which room was the worst.”
“For me, it was the Grecian pigs-flying bathroom. What do dozens of small, metal pigs with wings hanging from the ceiling have to do with ancient Greece?” Susie shook her head. “Glad they agreed to sell you the house. You’re doing the world a favor, but I can’t help but think about their next housing victim. On the bright side, you got the house you love. Your brother March is a master negotiator. I’ve never seen anyone who could both charm and confuse people. It was interesting to watch.”
“That’s March … Mr. Charming Confusion.” He’d negotiated the price down so much that her mortgage would be cheaper on this house than it had been on her condo, and she still had quite a bit of money left over for renovations.
Susie hung an arm around January’s shoulder. “You’re going to let me landscape the yard … pretty please?” She loved to garden.
“Absolutely, and after you get finished, you can show me how to take care of everything.” Plants quaked in fear in January’s presence. They somehow knew they only had a few days to live.
Bru marched out of the front door, still holding his tape measure. He’d measured every square inch of this house … and checked the measurements twice. “That woman is bat-shit crazy. This is the worst house interior I have ever seen. And the last house I flipped was a crack house. How did you even find it?”
“We were going to visit the house for sale across the street and January saw this one. It wasn’t even for sale, but she still wanted it.” Susie smiled and one-arm hugged January.
“Are you dressed as Cleopatra?” Bru analyzed Susie’s cardboard collar.
“Yes.” Susie didn’t elaborate.
He waited for more and then gave up. “So, I’m going to send my demo crew out tomorrow. Lynne gave me a set of original house plans. I vote we take out everything they’ve done to the house. I saw no less than ten code violations in the
work they’ve done and I wasn’t really looking. This is their first house flip. You’ll be interested to know that before they decided to flip houses, they were both nurses at Seton Southwest. What does nursing have to do with house flipping, you might wonder? People see couples flipping houses all over the US and think, hey, we could do that. It’s insulting. I grew up in the building trade, went to night school, and spent years on the job working my way up to be a general contractor. They watched a couple of shows on HGTV and bam, now they’re contractors?” He shook his head. “It’s like me waking up tomorrow and saying, ‘I’m going to be a cardiologist today because I’m good with a knife and know where the heart is.’”
“I know what you mean.” Susie leaned forward and propped her elbows on her knees. “Remember the old saying, ‘Those who can do and those who can’t teach’? I’d like to see the person who said that try to hold the attention of a hundred and eight kids a day. Not to mention the after-hours tutoring, paper grading, parent-teacher meetings, and the general bureaucratic BS that I deal with on a daily basis. And don’t even get me started on the pay.”
Bru held his fist out for her to bump. “You win.”
Susie bumped it and laughed. “Thanks … I guess. If I didn’t believe in it, I’d have left teaching years ago.”
“What’s the final move-out date?” January had come outside for some fresh air after the second hour of negotiation. “Since they don’t live here, it shouldn’t take them too long to move all of this stuff out.”
“March is still working on them. He’s pushing for them to move the furniture out as soon as possible. We don’t want them to have the chance to Futro-ize anything else.” Bru shook his head like he still couldn’t believe what he’d seen.
“I know style is subjective, but I’m pretty sure that no one else on this planet would like what they’ve done.” Susie’s shoulders shook with laughter. “Can you imagine the looks on the faces of the HGTV folks who watched their audition video?”
“I bet they thought they were being punked.” January crossed her legs at the ankles and stretched and then put her hands on her belly. “Baby Jenkowski’s going to need a super awesome treehouse in that huge old oak in the backyard.”
“Already on it.” Bru unclipped a piece of paper from his clipboard. “Take a look at this.”
She took the paper. It was a drawing of an elaborate treehouse that looked like a fairy cottage. It had a wood-shingled roof, shutters next to the three windows, and what looked like a tiny chimney. It was adorable.
Susie leaned over to look at the drawing. “I want one. Screw my house, I want to live in that.”
“Me too. We can leave this house just the way it is and I’ll live in the backyard. Just think about it. A decoy house to throw off the census takers and Jehovah’s Witnesses. I could make it work.” Yep, she and Baby J could definitely live in a treehouse.
“Don’t even bring up Jehovah’s Witnesses.” Susie’s top lip curled. “Today was Dougie’s birthday. I was able to sneak him a birthday cake and a couple of Taco Bell Crunchwraps.”
Bru mashed his lips together, but his curiosity got the better of him. “Who’s Dougie?”
“He’s one of her students.” January shook her head. “Sad story.”
“His mother was a meth addict and no one knows who his father is. He was taken out of her custody when he was in kindergarten and placed in the foster care system. Six months later, his mom signed over custody to the state. He was adopted two months later by his foster parents, who are nice enough people … I guess.” Susie rolled her eyes.
“He had a hard life, but now it sounds like he has a better life.” Bru thoroughly understood what it meant to have a hard life.
“He was adopted by vegan Jehovah’s Witnesses.” Susie cringed.
“Tough break.” Bru hunched his shoulders. “Hey, at least his new parents are nice.”
“And they love him.” Susie shook her head. “They’re good people, I know. He’s happy and has a stable home, but I just feel like he deserves the occasional double cheeseburger and a visit from Santa Claus. What kind of childhood doesn’t involve birthday candles?”
January’s childhood had always involved birthday candles. Bru and March had always treated her like a princess, which was both good and bad.
A red 1970s-era Corvette pulled up to the curb. January smiled. Nina Muñoz, another Tough Lady, was behind the wheel.
Bru let out a long, deep sigh and stood. He pulled out his tape measure and headed into the backyard. For some reason he couldn’t stand Nina.
She opened the driver’s-side door and stepped out of the car. She was wearing her navy-blue American Airlines pilot uniform.
“What’s this I hear about you buying a house?” Everything sounded so much sexier in Nina’s Latin American accent.
“Wait until you see the inside.” Susie stood and went to give Nina a hug. “I thought you were still on the Munich flight duty.”
“I landed about an hour ago. I have five whole days off before I go back to driving the flying bus to and from Munich.” Nina hugged her and then stepped back and looked Susie over. “Why are you dressed like Cleopatra?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that? Can’t a girl change her look every once in a while?” Susie grinned.
“Not when it involves cardboard and a gold bangle bracelet in the shape of a snake.” Nina hip-bumped Susie.
“I wore it to school. I didn’t have any other clothes with me.” Susie knocked on the cardboard collar. “Isn’t it snazzy?”
“Seriously, why are you dressed as Cleopatra?” Nina’s eyes went to the direction Bru had stalked off in.
“We’re mummifying Cornish game hens. I like to dress the part.” Susie watched Nina looking for Bru. “Why does he hate you so much?”
“No clue. I’ve only ever spoken to him a handful of times.” Nina shrugged. “He doesn’t know me well enough to hate me. That only happens with men I date.”
Bru’s reaction to Nina had always been a mystery. He couldn’t stand to be in the same room with her. January had asked him about it once, and all he’d said was that he didn’t like her.
“You owe me big time.” March stepped out onto the front porch. He handed January a set of keys. “They’re moving everything out tomorrow. All of the Futro is going bye-bye.”
“Hey, big guy.” Nina hugged March. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”
He grinned as he hugged her back. “Not my fault. I’ve been around. You’re the one jetting off to exotic places.”
“Yeah, the inside of a cockpit looks the same in Paris, France, as it does in Paris, Texas.” She stepped back. “I got you some of that German beer you like. It’s on the front seat.”
“The Lent beer? But it’s not Lent. How did you find it?” He glanced at her car.
“It turns out that the monks don’t only make it for Lent.” She punched him playfully on the arm. “Stop lusting over my car. She’s not for sale.”
“One day you’re going to let me drive her,” he said as he walked down to her Corvette.
“Don’t hold your breath.” Nina sat next to January, and Susie sat beside her. Nina put one arm around Susie and the other around January. “What is this Futro thing you’ve been texting me about?”
“It’s better to show you Futro.” Susie thumbed back at the house behind them. “I’m not sure how to describe it. Before we take you into the house, you have to promise not to laugh or scream in horror or start mumbling in Spanish and crossing yourself.”
“I make no promises.” Nina held up a hand. “But I’ll try to contain myself.”
“Remember when we were all in New York and we got lost and went into that weird art gallery to ask for directions?” January laughed. They’d stumbled onto some kind of avant-garde art installation that had included performances of naked masked people rolling around in paint. It had been disturbing and funny as hell. “Futro is like that.”
“Now you’re scari
ng me, but I’m also intrigued.” Nina stood and helped them both up. “Am I going to get paint on my shoes or risk getting an STD while using the bathroom?”
“I don’t know about the paint, but I think you’re okay on the STD front.” January hoped so, because she’d already used the bathroom.
“January, there are a couple of contract points we need to go over.” March came back, using the bottle opener on his key chain to open one of the beers.
“Y’all go in without me. I’ll catch up.” January sat on the front steps again. “What contract points?”
“Well …” He sat beside her and set the case of beer next to him. “There’s really only one point.” He took another swig. “And we can’t tell Bru, because he’ll lose it.”
“Is it major? Is there some sort of structural problem?” She glanced back at the house like she could see inside the walls.
“No, they didn’t disclose any structural issues. I’m not sure they’d know a structural issue if they saw one.” Calmly, he took another swig.
“Holy Mary, Mother of God!” Nina yelled from inside the house. Obviously, she’d come face-to-face with Futro.
“Then what’s the issue? You’re making me nervous.” Was the roof falling in or had they found a body buried in the backyard?
He crossed his legs at the ankles and leaned back against the step. “The Healeys claim the house is haunted.”
So that had been the tap on her shoulder. She was glad she wasn’t crazy—then again, she was okay with sharing her new house with a ghost, so she might not be out of the crazy woods yet. “Cool.”
Cold As January Page 4
