by Stacy Borel
The annoying man cleared his throat. “That’s where I come in. You tell me what you want, and I give you an estimate in cost. Or you could tell me what you might possibly spend, ballpark, and I’m able to come up with a plan that keeps you in budget.”
I turned to him and narrowed my eyes. “How do I know you’re even worth hiring? I’ve never seen your work. I can just as easily go into any hardware store and look at the different designs and figure it out that way.”
He curled his lip. “That sounds so…” He tried to think of the right word. “Standard. And FYI, I’m the best you’ll find in this corner of the US.”
I laughed. “Well, if you think I can afford custom you’re insane. I work on a writer’s salary and a very small life insurance from my mother. I refuse to spend all my money in one area of the house. Especially when I know the majority of the money isn’t in the supplies needed, it’s in the damn labor.”
Sandra piped in, “Molly, that’s something I discussed with him. Blake here isn’t going to be charging much at all for the work.”
“I didn’t say that.”
She shot him her serious business expression that left no room to argue with her. “When I spoke to you on the phone, I believe this was mentioned. Now if you plan on upcharging in places where it’s not necessary, I’ll escort you myself off Molly’s lawn and you can bet your ass she won’t be giving you any business in the future.”
Blake’s beautiful smile spread across his face, and if this one was to be titled, I’d say this was his ‘I’m about to lay it on thick’ smile. “Ladies, listen, I’m more than happy to work around any budget. I lay all my cards on the table. I don’t like my clients surprised any more than they like to be surprised. If an issue comes up, I’ll give you a couple choices with how it can be resolved. However, you can’t expect me to work for free.”
Sandra squared her shoulders and faced him head on. She looked like she was about to go to bat for me. “Of course you’re not working for free. I don’t think anyone here would ever expect you to. But this isn’t like taking your car in to get your oil changed and suddenly you need new wiper blades, an air filter, the brakes are bad, and if I don’t put synthetic in it, the car won’t run for another five thousand miles. You will get a flat rate upfront. There will be no random extra upcharges for the labor. She will see what you’re doing written down in black and white.”
He watched her with rapt attention. I should have been the one talking. These should have been my words coming out of my mouth. I didn’t want to appear weak to someone like Blake. I wasn’t weak. Not at all. I was as tough as Sandra, I just showed it in my own ways.
“You see, Mr. Whitmore, I’ve dealt with my fair share of contractors. One of which had even hired someone to come in and steal the copper wiring in my newly remodeled apartment. I’m not a fan of general contractors.”
I could tell he was trying to figure out a way to approach this even though it seemed his personal feelings on the matter had already been slapped in the face. He took a deep breath, his chest puffing outward. Blake’s eyes briefly darted to mine, but he went back to Sandra.
“This is a job. It’s not a job I’ve ever taken lightly. It’s not one that I hire small-minded criminals to go in and do my dirty work. And it’s certainly not one that I’ve built my name upon to go fucking up. I consider myself one of the best for a reason. While I understand your concern for your friend”—he narrowed his eyes—“with all due respect, my business is now officially with her. You made the call and got me here. But it’s her money that will be having me do the job.” He gave me a hard stare. “I’m sure Molly is more than capable of telling me what she expects from me.”
That statement felt like a loaded one.
Only one side of my mouth lifted. “Can we all just chill for a second with the formal discussion? Since he’s here, how about you come inside and take a look just so you can see what you might be working with.” I didn’t know what else to say or do to break the tension. I didn’t even wait for a response before I marched into the house. Sandra and Blake were both on my heels. He went straight into the kitchen and I took a step back to stand beside Sandra. I leaned in to whisper to her, “I’m going to kill you.”
She grinned. “No, you’re not. Can you honestly tell me you want to hurt me when you’ll have that to look at for the next few weeks?”
Blake was bent over, looking at something under the sink. His jean-clad butt was ripe for my viewing pleasure, and I nearly choked on my tongue. A little sliver of his shirt had ridden up and his golden tan skin was peeking out. For the second time I found myself digging my nails into my palms to keep from reaching out and touching him.
“Yep, definitely going to kill you,” I grumbled.
This entire thing was a set-up. Her phone call, her hardball outside, and now she served me Blake Whitmore on a platter. How was I going to handle having this man coming in and out of my house for the next month, at the very least? I wouldn’t consider myself stupid, but I sure as hell walked right into this one.
Both of us had our eyes zoomed in on Blake’s backside as he stood up and turned to face us. I blinked rapidly, trying to play it off that I’d gotten something in my eye. He’d caught me checking him out and I’d never felt more embarrassed.
He placed his notepad on the counter and motioned for me to come over so he could show me what he’d jotted down. “Okay, so as far as my measurements go, you can get away with doing lower cabinets over here, and then I can do a row of lower and upper on this wall.” He directed where I should be looking as he explained. “Now these upper cabinets that are blocking the entire view of the dining room can be brought down, and I can make an attach peninsula, or you have enough room to do a small island right here.” His tape measure was pulled out slightly and he used it like a pointer stick.
Getting completely serious, I asked, “Okay, but if I do an island, won’t I then have to completely redo the flooring in here? I mean, I hadn’t planned on pulling up these floors for at least another two to three months. I have no idea if there’s another layer of linoleum under here, or if the subflooring needs to be yanked up.”
He smiled. “Look at you, knowing some of your terminology.”
I rolled my eyes. “Hardy har har funny guy. Of course I know some of the terms you all use. I’ve already watched a few YouTube videos so I could have an idea of what I’d be dealing with.”
Blake scrubbed his hand down his face. Sandra stayed back, leaning her hip against the farthest counter. “The people who film those are probably going to steer you down the wrong path. Just so you know.”
“Whatever. Linoleum is linoleum. It all comes up the same way.”
He barked out a laugh. “If you say so. But to answer your question, yes. In short, the flooring would have to come up if you did an island. It needs to come up anyway when these cabinets get done as well, though. Some of the measurements aren’t the same. If you get custom-built ones, we can make it so they match up with the floors, but I can’t promise that any premanufactured ones will have the same depth or width as what you currently have.”
So what he was really saying was, ‘Molly, you’re going to have to pull a lot of money out of your asshole and maybe pluck a few extra bills off the money tree in the backyard to cover the costs.’ I needed wine. Lots and lots of wine.
“Okay, can we slow down here for a minute?” I put my hand up in the air. “I don’t think I’m ready to take on all of this. From the sounds of it, I’m already looking at over ten grand just in a few cabinets and more linoleum. We haven’t even discussed new appliances or other design elements.”
Sandra stepped forward and placed her palm on my shoulder. “Take a breather. Let him give you some numbers.”
I tapped my foot on the ground.
Blake set his tape measure down and put one hand on his hip, while the other ran through his hair. He was mouth-watering, but my bleeding bank account was a little too upset to gawk at the tall,
delicious man in my house.
“Ten grand isn’t reasonable or logical. I checked under your sink, and there may be some re-piping work to do. I told you before I have a couple plumbers I can call. One of them owes me a pretty big favor. I can see what he’ll do if I bring him out here. That’ll be one less cost you’ll incur.”
I was a little baffled as to why he’d call in his favor for me.
“I’m also working with an apartment complex that just used a whole seller for the appliances. They gave them a good deal on refrigerators and stoves because we bought them in bulk. Tossing in an extra order at the same cost will save some money if it’s something you’re interested in and not very picky about the type that goes in here. But all in all, I’m going to estimate this kitchen ringing in about twelve to fifteen grand.”
I started to lean into Sandra a little more than necessary. “Come again?”
He sighed. “Molly, this place needs a lot of work. The inspector could have told you that. Your realtor should have told you that. Your own damn eyes should have shown you all you needed to know. Whatever you see on the outside, you can almost always bet there’s something worse underneath it all that has to be repaired too.”
He sure as shit wasn’t kidding. I couldn’t afford this. My little idea of a budget was long blown out of the water with his number. Then all of the problems he listed off, was I a fool to think I could attempt it for less? Probably. But wasn’t the point of all this to make it an experience?
“Thank you, but no thank you,” I said.
He was picking up his stuff and did a double take. “Excuse me?”
“What?” Sandra questioned.
I jutted my chin out in defiance. “I’m not setting in stone anything right now. I would like to go to the hardware store myself and gather my own estimates before settling on something I may regret.”
Blake shook his head. He was completely taken aback by my reply, fire behind his eyes. Well, guess what, pal, I had one too and mine burned brighter. My house, my rules. Everything in here was working and functioning still.
“Molly, you don’t even know what you’re doing,” Sandra protested.
“Hush, I’ll be fine, but if Blake here wants to come help guide me in the store, he is welcome to come along.”
More like he’d probably direct me instead.
“Fine.” He nodded. “When?”
I thought about it. Sometime after Sandra was gone. I didn’t need any little birds chirping in my ear telling me what to do with him when I had him alone.
“In the next three of four days.”
He started for the back door, walking past both of us. “I’ll be here.”
I heard the click of it shutting and looked at Sandra.
“That was dumbest thing I’ve been around to witness you doing.” She tapped her pointer finger on her chin. A Cheshire cat grin spread across her face. “I like it.”
It was a good thing one of us did, because I didn’t have a damn clue what I was doing anymore.
Molly
I’D JUST DROPPED SANDRA OFF at the airport and was pulling away from SeaTac feeling a little melancholy. It was very nice having her here for such an extended visit. I hadn’t realized how lonely it was out here by myself until she showed up and filled a small void. I hopped on the highway and started toward the ferry. I was reluctant, though.
I switched on the radio. Country music filled the car and words of breakups and sadness were being sung. This wasn’t what I needed. I didn’t want to go home to a quiet house only to look around at all the work ahead of me, and a manuscript that had to be tended to. When I said goodbye to Sandra, I made her endure a tight hug and she had to handle my teary eyes as I said I’d miss having her around. She brushed me off and told me to suck it up. That I was only a five-hour plane ride away from her and I could come back anytime I wanted. Her avoidance of emotions oddly warmed me.
This quiet little lull always made me feel like I was in a weird funk that I had no intentions of entertaining. While at a light near the ferry, I decided since I was in the area, I would take the day and instead of going home, I’d explore a little bit of the city. A trip to Pike Place Market and if I had enough time to hit the Space Needle before the last ferry ran, I’d squeeze it in. I shut off the sappy crap on the radio and made my way toward the water.
The market was only a couple blocks from the docks. I parked near the Seattle Aquarium and trekked uphill. There were white puffy clouds in the sky, while the sun was able to breech through here and there as the wind blew them out of the way. I had on a long-sleeved white top and fitted jeans that had a tear in the knees. Black Converse were perfect for the walking I’d be doing. My hair was blowing around enough for me to slip the rubber band off my wrist and pull it up into a messy ponytail on my head.
I was going to need a trim soon. My hair was down past the middle of my back.
Pike Place Market was a fun spot for not only tourists but locals as well. Shops and vendors were packed in like sardines and it being so close to noon, foot traffic had me bumping shoulders with other shoppers. This was exactly what I was needing. Florists had buckets of fresh flowers lining their spots, trendy store fronts that were full of odd knick-knacks, fresh fruit and veggies, and of course fish could be found everywhere you looked.
I didn’t think I’d be able to see it all. I didn’t even know what I was looking for. Company maybe? The hum of business and people talking? Either way, it replaced the listlessness with warmth and smiles. I started off by going into a coffee shop and getting a drip coffee. Seattle was known for their joe, but that was because of Starbucks. I enjoyed mainstream places as much as the next person, but these smaller shops felt authentic and always added a touch of love.
As I waded through the crowds, I picked up a vintage T-shirt that had the word Seattle on it. I’d found a funky green vase I thought would go well in my living room and a framed sepia photo of a cow in a pasture. I’d put it in my bedroom. A few other small purchases and I was ready to make my way out of here and back to my car. I picked up a bouquet of flowers I’d assembled and matched myself, and decided I should get some fresh fish from Pike Place Fish Company. Just going there was an experience in and of itself. The men and women working put on a show as they tossed King Salmon and gutted halibut back and forth. People recorded them on their cell phones and laughed as they yelled random things. I watched for a bit before snagging some prawns, halibut cheeks, and some entirely too expensive tuna.
It wasn’t a long drive from the market to the Space Needle. Fortunately, there weren’t many tourists here and I was able to go up on the first elevator. At the top, you had a three-hundred-and-sixty-five-degree view of the city, Elliott Bay, Portage Bay, and several other markers. Placed all around the windows were binoculars that you paid twenty-five cents to turn on and use.
Memories were flooding me. My mom and I came here several times when I was a kid. I felt like I was on top of the world up here. I’d look down at everyone on the ground and think they were tiny little ants and the city was their colony. She’d show me the same places in the city every time, and I’d look in awe as if it were something different each time. She loved trying to teach me about the history. She knew so much about the city that you’d think she grew up here. When in fact, she was born and lived her younger years in Minot, North Dakota. Seattle was her favorite place to be, and it quickly became one of mine.
I spent probably an hour up at the top reminiscing and missing her. I sat down at one point and enjoyed watching the people discover places below. It was almost as beautiful as the view itself. The purity and joy of something so simple opened my mind to a possible new story that I had to jot down notes before the idea disappeared. Before taking the elevator down, I popped a quarter into a set of binoculars that faced a cluster of boat houses. As a tradition, it didn’t feel right leaving before I found the Sleepless in Seattle home. It was Mom’s favorite because it was her favorite movie. I pictured her standing next
to me smiling and holding my twelve-year-old hand.
The ferry ride to Bremerton was soothing. The water was slightly choppy and the boat subtly rocked with the motion. I sat in the front row seats and watched the sun dip into the ocean and the stars slowly make their appearance. This was exactly what I needed. Sandra’s visit made me miss her and Boston so much. But it also reminded me I was doing okay. This impromptu trip to the city made me feel my mom was all around me. It was warmer than a hug. It was my gentle push that told me I was in the right place and I’d done what she would have wanted me to do.
Thinking about the house, though, I wondered if she’d agree with what I’d planned with it. Would she have taken it upon herself to make the repairs on her own so she could put her own stamp on it? Would Mom have had the gumption to be hands-on so she could later sit back and look at her work and say ‘damn, I did this by myself.’ I didn’t have the answer to that.
Exiting the ferry and as I drove through the woods, time was non-existent. I allowed my emotions to bubble to the surface and cried for the third time since my mom died. I was very good at compartmentalizing things until it was a good time to let them out. Being in the car, in the dark except for the dashboard lights illuminating my face, was a place to let it go. The lump built in my throat till I was unable to swallow it down.
Tears fell for my loss. They fell for how she suffered in the end. Having a functioning body, but a mind that couldn’t remember how to do the simplest things like blinking or swallowing. They fell for me as a little girl being left by my father, and not having one to tell me we’d still be fine after Mom was gone. Tears soaked my face for the sheer loneliness and being a twenty-nine-year old woman and no real family.
I was alone.
My house was dark as I pulled up. I didn’t leave on the porch light because I hadn’t anticipated being gone as long as I had. I reached over and opened the glove box, pulling out a few napkins, and dabbed at my face. I was exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to go inside and sink into my bed. I had every intention of sleeping in tomorrow morning. After going for two solid weeks, I deserved a day to be a complete vegetable. No writing, no makeup, no problems.
