Chapter 20
twenty
. . .
Emilia
The days were passing by in a blur. I’d spend my mornings at the flower shop and my afternoons at Bridger’s house. I hired Monique Whitfield to work part time in the afternoons during the holidays. Her sister was my friend Jazzy Leighton, who owned Booze and Brews with her husband, Ben.
Bridger’s renovation was going to be slightly larger than I’d originally thought. Once he and I had sat down and really looked at the design options, it turned out he was open to more changes than I’d guessed. His vibe was what I would call “Scandinavian farmhouse meets French chateau.”
Who knew?
I thought he’d be into a modern, clean aesthetic. But he liked natural woods and pieces that had character and history.
The only major construction we would be doing would require some drywall demo and reconstruction.
I was having all the transitions from one space to another changed from squared edges to arches.
It would give the home added character, and I was surprised he was open to the idea.
When I showed him the difference on some virtual photos I’d created on my laptop, he decided that getting the work done would be worth the trouble.
Aside from that, it was all décor changes that would take place.
And there were a lot. He had a large home with very few furnishings, so this would be a very big job.
We were also adding wood beams to the ceilings and some woodwork to the walls in some of the rooms, to bring in detail and character.
Bottom line… we were redoing every square inch of his large estate.
I’d spend hours every night searching for unique pieces online and placing orders.
Thankfully the finishes that were already in the home worked well with the new design, as he had dark wood flooring and high-end marble countertops.
My favorite was the antique limestone flooring that was in all the bathrooms. It screamed “old world,” and all of these finishes would play well with what I was bringing in.
Thankfully, we didn’t need to tear out countertops or cabinets or flooring.
But due to the size of the home, we would need to add quite a bit. We were bringing in the warmth and the character and the charm.
This was a unique situation, and one I was sure I’d never experience again. I had an unlimited budget—meaning, there wasn’t one.
He’d told me to just buy whatever was needed to get the look we’d agreed upon. Of course this had my creative juices jumping for joy.
A renovation with no budget restrictions?
Somebody pinch me.
I had a lot of design decisions to make.
So I’d been spending hours every day over here, just taking measurements and visualizing what we would do in each room.
He’d worked in his home office the first few days since we’d started, but today he was in the city for work, and he’d given me a key to his home.
His only rule was that no one else was allowed to be in this home without either of us overseeing them.
I could live with that.
I had my laptop set up as I input more measurements.
None of his current furniture would be staying. It was either the incorrect size for the space, or it just didn’t go with the new aesthetic.
The area that was stumping me the most was the great room.
It was a large space attached to the kitchen, and it was the heart of the home, yet it lacked any sort of character.
The fireplace was very bland, just a black slate wall with absolutely nothing interesting about it.
The size was also far too small for the room.
It needed to make a statement. I wanted people to walk in this room and gasp at how breathtaking it was.
I’d spent hours online the last few nights, trying to find the perfect fireplace surround, something with history and a story to tell.
I wanted this fireplace to make a statement in this room, and after many failed attempts, I gaped at my laptop, where I’d found the most beautiful nineteenth-century French Louis XVI–style marble mantel I’d ever laid eyes on.
It was absolutely magnificent. It was everything this room needed.
This would be the piece that would tie everything together and be the focal point of the entire design. I couldn’t stop staring at it.
It was perfect.
But it was also very expensive, and it resided at an antique store in Paris, France.
“You appear deep in thought.” Bridger’s smooth voice came from behind me, and I startled.
He lifted a brow as he studied me.
“Sorry, I was just looking at this mantel that I found, and I didn’t hear you come in.” I cleared my throat as I took him in. He pulled off his black suit coat and tossed it over the chair before taking the seat beside me.
The smell of leather and sandalwood surrounded me.
He narrowed his gaze as he turned the laptop toward himself.
I hadn’t expected him to be so involved, but he liked to see what I’d been working on every day.
He hadn’t been interested in decorating his place in all the years that he’d lived here, but now that he was doing it, he showed much more interest than I would have expected.
My gut told me that when Bridger Chadwick decided to do something, he went all in.
He didn’t half-ass anything.
I respected that.
“Wow. That’s gorgeous. Where’d you find it?”
“It’s in an antique store in Paris.” I chuckled. “It’s not in the price point that I was hoping for, nor is it even in this country. But it just makes such a statement, right?”
He studied the screen. “Yes. How do you have a price point if I don’t?”
“Well, I’m just trying to be practical with the budget. This is outrageously priced. I’m going to see if I can find something similar here in the States that isn’t quite so expensive.”
“If you found the right piece, why would you continue looking for something more reasonable?” he asked.
He wasn’t being a cocky bastard when he asked the question.
It was genuine.
“Well…” I chewed the edge of my thumbnail. “It’s a mantel, and it costs one hundred and ten thousand dollars. It seems—I don’t know, it’s a lot of money for a fireplace.”
He narrowed his gaze as he turned to look at me with confusion. “I told you that budget wasn’t an issue. This is an expensive home, and we’re talking about a focal point in the house, correct?”
“Yes. It’s just, I don’t know, I thought this might be a bit excessive.”
He turned back to look at the screen. “Is it the right piece?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think it’s excessive. It’s a home I plan to live in forever, and I hired you for your expertise. If you think it’s right, then you should get it.”
I blew out a breath. Decorating on a large budget was proving to be a lot of pressure. I was definitely used to being in the camp of finding something you liked, and then searching for a better price.
But I wasn’t going to find a copycat of a nineteenth-century French antique mantel on Amazon.
I fidgeted with my hands, tucking my lips between my teeth as I thought it over.
“Emilia, I’m not a mind reader. You’re going to need to tell me what the problem is,” he said, his tone impossible to read. It came out harsh, but his gray gaze was filled with concern, which surprised me.
“It’s a lot of money, and it makes me nervous to purchase something in this price point without seeing it.
But it’s not like I’m going to find this at an antique store here in Rosewood River or even in San Francisco.
So I have to just hope that it’s as good in person as it looks online. It just feels risky.”
He used his thumb and pointer finger to stroke along the scruff of his jaw. “I see. That’s a fair concern.”
Well, that was a relief.
I thought he was going to get annoyed that I was nervous about the purchase.
“But you like it?” he asked.
“Yes, I love it.”
“So, I guess we’re going to Paris tomorrow. Get your shift covered.”
“Excuse me?” I gaped at him as he started typing into his phone.
“You just said you love the piece, and it’s what you want for the space, did you not?”
“Yes?” It came out as more of a question.
He pushed to his feet and moved to the kitchen. “Are you hungry? I need food.”
He pulled something out of his fridge and popped it in the oven.
“Bridger.” I stood up and crossed my arms over my chest.
“Emilia.” He mimicked my tone and stance.
“We can’t go to Paris tomorrow.”
He picked up his phone and glanced at the screen before holding it up to me. “Sure we can. My pilot Lars is preparing for the trip now.”
“We can’t just fly to Paris to see a fireplace mantel.”
He moved closer, stopping just in front of me. “I have business there, and I was planning a trip anyway. I just didn’t think I’d be going until after the holidays. This works out fine for me. Can you not get Beatrice to cover for you?”
“Yes. Of course I can. But, I mean, it’s Paris.”
“Have you never been?” he asked. He moved back to the kitchen, grabbed a beer out of the fridge, and held one up to me. I shook my head no. My mind was spinning. I wasn’t thinking about having a beer.
“No. When would I have been to Paris? I went from home to college to running a flower shop. I don’t own a private plane and jet-set around on the weekends.” I threw my hands in the air.
“Well, lucky for you, I do. And you said you weren’t comfortable purchasing the mantel without seeing it.
So, we’ll fly to Paris, I’ll schedule my meeting for the following morning, and you can use that time to sightsee, and then we’ll go check out the mantel in the afternoon.
We can fly home the following day.” He said it like it was no big deal.
“We’re going to Paris tomorrow for two nights?” I asked, making it obvious that the idea was ludicrous.
“Correct.”
“Where will we stay?” I paced in a circle as my mind spun. “Wait. I have some Marriott reward points I could use.”
“Not necessary. Brenner is getting it booked now. I always stay at the same place, and he’ll get us each a room there.”