Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 66323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
“I’ll go help them,” Dad says as he follows.
“We need to work, not give my boyfriend the third degree,” I complain to my mom.
“Don’t worry, honey. They can multitask. The stemware is clean and put away. I’m starting on the flatware next.”
“I found the pots and pans that hang over the island.”
“You want to hang them?” Mom asks, wrinkling her nose.
“Yes.”
“I’m no expert, but hear me out. Florence nixed the last design because it was too farmhouse. Too homey. If you hang the pots and pans, it gives the room that same feel.”
I narrow my eyes, looking over the space, then nod my head. “You’re right. Let’s stow them in the cupboard next to the oven.”
“Bathroom’s done,” Liv announces. “Well, the towels and rugs are. I think it needs some extra doodads.”
“I have an abundance of doodads,” I inform her and point to the box I just opened. “In there.”
“Awesome. Wait, you were able to order live plants online?”
“You can order literally anything online.”
“Eat a sandwich,” Mom says before I can move to the next project. “Just half. You need it. It’s going to be a long night.”
So, I munch and work. When the guys bring in the big furniture, I point to where I want it positioned.
“This caramel-colored leather is just so good,” Natalie says as she lovingly pets it. “Luke, I think we should put one of these in our living room. I’m tired of the dark furniture we have.”
“I’ll send you the info on where to buy it,” I promise as I open yet another box. The pile of empty containers out in the driveway is a small mountain.
But at least they’re empty.
“Here’s the matching chair,” Gray says as he and my dad carry it through the front door.
“There should be two matching chairs,” I reply.
“There is,” Dad says. “It’s next on the list.”
“Good. I want them to face the couch.”
“She’s a woman who knows what she wants,” Gray says to Dad with a wink.
“Damn right she is,” Dad replies.
The guys all left around three in the morning when all the heavy lifting was finished, the trim was done, and all we had left was the finishing touches.
Mom and Nat went home at six.
And Amelia, our cousin who owns a mega-successful makeup brand, came to help me get camera ready at seven.
“The smoky eye is just perfect,” Liv says with a nod. “And the foundation isn’t too cakey.”
“It’s a new airbrush foundation,” Amelia agrees. “She’ll look flawless for the camera but not overdone for the rest of the day. Also, I just have to say, for someone who was up all night working her ass off, you don’t have even one dark circle or bag under your eyes. It’s not fair.”
By the time she finishes my makeup, and we clean up Amelia’s supplies, I only have thirty minutes before Florence is due to arrive, so I pull on the pink dress that Gray delivered on his way to work.
The three of us make our rounds through the house, fluffing pillows and making sure there’s not even one speck of dust to be found, and when there are just ten minutes left, I’m walking them out the door.
“Thank you,” I say as I cling to Liv. “I literally couldn’t have done this without you.”
“I’m always here for this stuff,” she assures me. “Call me when it’s over. I can’t wait to hear how it goes.”
When Liv walks down to her car to leave, Amelia takes my shoulders in her hands and smiles at me.
“You’ve got this, babe. Seriously, you need to be so proud of yourself. The house is absolutely stunning. I wouldn’t say that if it weren’t true. You have no reason to stress over this. It’s in the bag.”
She kisses my cheek and then walks down to her car, waving before she drives away.
I take a long, deep breath and stare up at the sky. It’s an overcast day in early November. It’s likely to rain today.
I walk over to the garage and smile when I see that all the debris from the crates and construction has been cleaned up and hauled away. There’s nothing in there except for a clean concrete floor.
Nothing about the house is amiss. Nothing at all.
Just as I return to the front door, three vehicles come up the driveway—one limo and two vans.
The driver opens the back of the limo, and Florence steps out, along with a pretty brunette dressed in a killer red dress and camera-ready makeup.
As always, Florence is in black from head to toe, with thick, black-rimmed glasses. She has her lips painted red today.
“Hello, Stella,” she says, much nicer than several weeks ago.
“It’s good to see you,” I reply with a professional smile.
“This is Stella McKenna, the designer behind the renovations of Florence’s home here in her beloved Seattle,” the brunette says to the camera before she turns to me. “I’m Rebecca Silver. We’re broadcasting live on our website, as well as TikTok and Instagram.”