by La Jill Hunt
“You must be Miss Brooks.” To my surprise, it wasn’t a white woman who opened the door, but a nice-looking, older black woman. Her eyes were warm and inviting, and her voice was soothing. She reminded me of Geraldine, my aunt that raised me. She had passed away the summer before my freshman year of college.
“Zenobia,” I said softly.
“That’s such a pretty name. I’m Georgette Miller. Come on in,” she said. “Jose and Josh are upstairs.”
“Thank you.” I stepped inside and looked around. The house definitely needed some work. The tile floor was cracked; you could see where the carpet had been pulled up, and all the walls needed painting. As we continued farther inside, I glanced into the kitchen and saw that there weren’t any appliances, and the countertops had been ripped out.
“We appreciate you coming to meet us. Caldwell said you were coming straight from work.”
“Yes, ma’am. I work at Loehman’s Fabrics. It’s not that far from here.”
“I know exactly where that is. It’s such a nice store. It’s so organized and not cluttered like so many other fabric places. Plus, you all have unique material in there.” She smiled warmly.
“I enjoy it.”
Loud footsteps came down the stairs, and Caldwell walked in and greeted me. “Zen, you made it.”
“I did.” I laughed.
“Well, Mama G, Josh, this is the young lady I was telling you about. Zen, this is Mama G.” He pointed at Georgette, then said, “And this is Josh.”
Caldwell moved slightly, and the guy behind him stepped forward. He stood about half a foot taller than Caldwell, who was six feet, and he didn’t seem very friendly. He actually looked irritated, and I was almost afraid to extend my hand to him.
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
“You too.” He gave my fingers a light squeeze, and I felt a little better, even though he was barely smiling as he did so.
“Why don’t we give you a tour?” Georgette suggested.
I followed them through the entire house, most of which was just as damaged as what I’d already seen. The previous occupants had really destroyed the place. There were three bedrooms, including a large master suite upstairs. The backyard had what looked like it used to be a nice patio, and the fence needed to be replaced. In spite of the damage, all in all, the house had a lot of potential, and I already had ideas forming in my head.
“Your place is really nice,” I said.
He shook his head. “I ain’t saying all that. It used to be at one point.”
“No, really, it is,” I said. “It just needs a little TLC.”
Caldwell agreed. “That’s what I told him, Zen. This place has so much potential.”
“Well, that’s the plan, to give it a little TLC and restore it to its full potential. Caldwell says you can help us get it done.” Georgette seemed a lot more excited about the remodel than her son did.
“Definitely,” I told her. “I don’t know who was living here before that trashed it like this, but I’ve seen Caldwell’s work, and I know he can have this place ready for new tenants before you know it. It’s going to make a great rental property. I would love to help bring it back to life.”
There was a shift in the room, and I could tell that I had said something wrong. Just then, Josh’s phone rang, and he said, “I have to take this.” He stepped away from us quickly.
“Did I say something wrong?” I asked, confused.
“Not really,” Georgette said. “It’s just that Josh gave this place to my younger son a couple of years ago when he moved. He was the one living here, until he died a few months ago.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Well, how did it go?” Bailey asked as soon as I walked into the house. I could hear Sean T’s voice yelling from the TV in the den, which let me know she had opted to stay home and work out instead of going to the gym.
I walked in and plopped down on the sofa. Bailey, dressed in leggings, a sports bra, and sneakers, was sweating as she mimicked the moves demonstrated on the screen in hopes of achieving her hip-hop abs.
“Not good. Not good at all,” I told her.
“Why? What happened?” she asked, still moving to the beat of the music.
“I don’t think the owner was feeling me. I don’t think he was feeling anything, to tell the truth,” I said.
“Are you sure you’re not being dramatic?”
“No, I’m not. I think I gave him the wrong impression. I commented that whoever was staying there pretty much ruined the place, and it turns out it was his brother, who’s now dead.”
Bailey stopped and turned around. “Oh, that’s not good.”
“Nope, not at all. It was a very awkward moment, to say the least. But even more so because I offered to help bring the place back to life,” I added.
“Damn, Zen, you’re right; that definitely did not go well at all. But I’m glad you went and got the experience of meeting with potential clients. Next time, you will be ready. This is God giving you a hint to get your portfolio and stitch-witch . . .”
“Swatches?”
“Swatches, stitches—whatever it is you said you didn’t have, now is the time for you to get it ready.”
“I gotta admit, when I was walking through that house, my mind was full of ideas, Bails. Oh my God, the kitchen is completely empty. I mean gutted. There’s not even a sink in there.” I closed my eyes and leaned my head back. “Do you know the kind of magical transformation I could do in there?”
“What happened to the sink?” Bailey asked.
I sat up and looked at her, shaking my head. “Does that even matter?”
“I’m just wondering, that’s all.” She laughed. “But do you see how you’re talking right now? The excitement in your voice? This is why I say you’re meant to do this.”
“But I didn’t get the job. They didn’t hire me.” I exhaled. “Bailey, I appreciate you being my personal cheerleader and all, but I gotta find another job that—”
My phone began vibrating in my purse. I fumbled but didn’t make it in time and missed the call. As soon as I took it out, it began vibrating again, and I answered immediately.
“Hello.”
“Hello, Zenobia, it’s Georgette Miller. Is this a bad time?” Her voice over the phone was just as warm as it had been in person, and it made me smile.
“Hi, Mrs. Miller. No, it’s not a bad time at all.” I motioned for Bailey to turn down the volume on the television where Sean T was still yelling at her to squat lower. She grabbed the remote and hit the mute button so she could eavesdrop.
“Please, call me Georgette. Well, I was wondering if Josh and I could meet with you tomorrow and go over a few things, if your schedule permits.”
“Sure, that’s not a problem. I don’t have to work until tomorrow afternoon, so anytime tomorrow morning would be best.” I gave Bailey an excited look.
“How about ten o’clock?
“Ten o’clock is perfect,” I told her.
We agreed to meet at the Starbucks not far from the fabric store. I thanked her, and as soon as I ended the call, Bailey began dancing around the room.
“I told you. I told you.” She was grinning like a fool.
I laughed. “Calm down. She just wants to talk to me about some stuff. She didn’t say I was hired.”
“She’s gonna hire you. Trust me. If she wasn’t, she wouldn’t have called so soon.”
“Well, I guess you were right; I need to start getting my shit together,” I told her.
“You’re damn right. Let’s go get these switches you were talking about.”
We went upstairs to what was now my mini salon, which still held plenty of Bailey’s shoes. I located the portfolio I had created in college, and we were able to update it by using pictures from my cell phone of work I’d done here and there, in addition to the redecorating I’d done in Bailey’s house. It wasn’t exactly the professional design portfolio I’d hoped to have when meeting with a potential client, but
it was better than nothing, and it did show my work.
* * *
I arrived at the Starbucks fifteen minutes early. Even though I had already met Georgette and Josh, I was still nervous. I was surprised when I walked in and saw her already sitting at a table in the corner, working on a laptop. She smiled when she looked up and saw me.
“Good morning, Zenobia. You’re early.”
“Good morning. You’re earlier than I am,” I told her.
“That scarf is gorgeous. I love it,” she said as I sat across from her.
“Thank you.”
“Where on earth did you get it?”
“Actually, I made it,” I said, looking down at my scarf as I placed my bag on the chair beside me.
“It’s beautiful. You want some coffee or a latte or anything?”
“No, I’m fine. Is Josh here?” I looked around but didn’t see him.
“No, he’s not coming,” she said.
“Oh.” I blinked. “Did you want to reschedule for a time when he can meet?”
“No, there’s no better time than right now, and the work on that house needs to get done. He’s been putting it off long enough.”
I decided there was no use in avoiding the obvious blunder I’d made the day before. “I’m sorry about the comment I made. I wasn’t trying to be insensitive, I didn’t know about your other son,” I told her.
“I know you didn’t mean anything by it, and no offense was taken. Yesterday was the first time we’ve gone in the house since Ephriam—that was my son’s name—passed away. I think Josh was a bit overwhelmed,” she explained.
“Wow, I can understand that. I’m very sorry for your loss,” I said.
She nodded, and I understood that she didn’t want to dwell on her son’s death, so I changed the conversation.
“Well, I did bring my portfolio so you can see a little bit of the work that I’ve done.” I passed her the leather-bound art portfolio with my initials embossed in gold lettering on the front. Ironically, it had been a graduation gift from Var.
Georgette took the book and began flipping through the pages. I sat nervously, wishing I had accepted her offer and gotten a drink. It would have given me something to focus on instead of fighting the urge to stare at her to watch her reaction of each picture.
“Caldwell was not lying. You are really talented,” she said. “Did you find this sofa in a local store, or was it ordered?”
I looked at the picture she was pointing at. It was a job I’d done for Bailey’s boss recently. “Actually, the sofa belonged to the woman’s mother-in-law. We reupholstered it, and I made the pillows.”
“Are you kidding?” She looked surprised. “I thought this was a designer piece.”
“Well, I guess you can say I designed it.” I laughed. “But, no. They were gonna throw it out, but I convinced them to fix it up instead, and it turned out really nice. We found the rug at a carpet remnant place downtown, and it matched up nicely.”
“I’ve seen enough. You’re definitely hired.”
“But isn’t it Josh’s place? Shouldn’t he see this before you make a final decision?” I asked. “He didn’t seem too receptive to me, and I don’t want to—”
“Zenobia, my son has had a very rough year. He’s not receptive to anyone these days. Please don’t take it personally. Trust me, you’ll learn that his bark is much worse than his bite. He means no harm. But I adore you, and I’m already a fan of your work. We’ve already contracted Caldwell, and he’s excited to work with you on this. I have no doubt that it’s going to turn out amazing.” Georgette slid my portfolio back across the table, then reached into her purse and handed me a folded check. “Here’s your retainer. The house will be ready for Josh before he’s ready for it.”
I opened the check and saw the amount: five thousand dollars! My eyes widened, and my mouth gaped open before I could stop it.
“Is it enough?” she asked. “Caldwell said two-fifty an hour, so I figured it would be enough for you to get started.”
“Uh, yeah, it’s fine. Thank you. Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
I was still a little confused and needed to clarify. “If he’s resistant to moving back into the house, why not just have Caldwell do the repairs and sell it or rent it out? Don’t get me wrong, I would love the opportunity to redesign it, and I definitely need the work, but wouldn’t it be easier? Especially since, like you said, Josh isn’t ready for it. After all, it is his house,” I finished, then immediately worried that I’d overstepped my bounds. It really wasn’t my business how they chose to deal with their loss and move on—or not, in Josh’s case.
Fortunately, Georgette didn’t seem to take offense to my questions. She smiled and said, “You’re right; the house does belong to him, and I’m sure renting or selling is a possibility down the line, but for now, Josh needs this. Call it mother’s intuition. I need my son to see that not everything you lose is a loss. There is always beauty in ashes; you just have to find it. As painful as being in that house was for not just him, but me as well, I know that it holds just as many good memories as it does bad. So, I’m going to need for you to kinda work with me and make this happen. That house is important to me, and in spite of how it seems right now, it’s important to him. This restoration has to happen.”
I didn’t know if it was what she said or the way she said it, or even a combination of both, but it resonated in my spirit. Her words drew me in, and I knew that whether she paid me or not, I wanted to do this.
Chapter Fourteen
I promised to check in with Georgette at the end of the week to let her know my progress. She gave me Josh’s cell number so I could touch base with him as well and get his input on the remodel and design.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked again.
“I’m positive. I’m excited to see what you do with the house.” She gave me quick hug in the parking lot before getting into her shiny Cadillac.
When I got into my car, I took the check out of my purse and stared at it. I couldn’t believe I had landed my first real interior design job. This was something I had been waiting for and praying about for so long. It was unbelievable. What made it even more amazing was the fact that it was a total remodel. The house was damn near being gutted and rebuilt from top to bottom. I felt like an artist with a blank canvas.
I had a little more than an hour before I had to be at work, so I decided to ride by the house. I folded the check and put it back into my purse, then dialed Bailey’s number as I pulled out of the parking lot.
“Tell me the good news.” She answered without even saying hello first.
“Girl!” I said.
“What happened?”
“Bailey.”
“Can you please just tell me, Zen? My goodness, you’re stressing me out, and I have a meeting in, like, ten minutes,” she whispered loudly.
“She gave me the job! Told me she loved my work. Get this, Bails: she gave me a retainer check for five grand and agreed to my rate of two-fifty an hour until the job is finished,” I squealed.
“Shut the hell up. Are you serious? I told you. This is just the beginning, Zen. I’m so proud of you.”
“Well, I haven’t exactly done anything yet, but I am going to make sure this house is absolutely perfect,” I told her.
“I know you are. I wouldn’t expect anything less of you. Everything you create is perfect, girl. Was her son in a better mood?”
I was so caught up in the excitement of Georgette hiring me that I had almost forgotten she’d done so against her son’s will.
“He didn’t even show up. It was just her, and she told me that he wasn’t too thrilled about this entire thing. I asked her how she expected me to design a house without the owner even wanting me to, and she said, ‘make it happen.’” I sighed.
“Hell, she paid you up front, so damn right you’re gonna make it happen. But, listen, congrats. I love you, and I’m so proud of you. I’ve gotta
go into this meeting. Tonight, we’ll go out and celebrate. My treat.”
“Oh, hell no. Tonight, the celebration is on me.” I hung up the phone.
When I got to the house, Caldwell’s truck was parked out front. I should’ve known he would already be working. One thing I had learned about him was that his work ethic was out of this world. I understood exactly why he had several contracts with property managers. Not only did he do quality work, but he was dedicated and completed it fast. Bailey had hired him to install shelves in her closet, and you would’ve thought he was building a shrine of some sort. He was meticulous and made sure it was exactly what Bailey wanted. He also only charged her for the materials he used. Working with him on the house was something I looked forward to.
“Caldwell!” I yelled when I walked inside after realizing the front door was unlocked.
“Who is that?” His voice traveled from the second floor.
“It’s me!” I carefully climbed the stairs, choosing not to hold onto the banister, which didn’t seem too sturdy. Caldwell was in one of the bedrooms, repairing a cracked wall. His white T-shirt was covered in dust, as were his jeans and work boots. A pair of goggles hung around his neck.
“Hola, mami.” He smiled at me. “I take it your being here is a good sign?”
“It’s a great sign, Caldwell. I got the job, thanks to you.” I walked over and went to give him a hug, but he stopped me.
“No, Zen. I’m dirty,” he said.
“I’m not thinking about that dust,” I said and hugged him quickly. “Besides, I wear an apron at work. No one will see it.”
“I knew she liked you,” he said.
“She did. Her son, on the other hand . . .”
“He’s just Josh, that’s all. He’ll come around,” Caldwell told me.
“He didn’t even show up today. That worries me. After all, this is kinda his house. What’s his deal, anyway? And why didn’t you give me a heads up about his brother? I was so embarrassed.”
