Chapter 4
Violet
“This isn’t exactly my wheelhouse, but I’m glad to help,” I tell Kimberly, glancing around the guest bedroom. She invited me over to look it over, apparently she wants to get some remodeling work done. Although I’m not sure if I’m the right person for the job.
My preferred aesthetic is modern luxury, which is precisely why my interior design clients choose me. To be honest, Kimberly’s vibe is a bit old-money classic for my taste, but when your mother-in-law asks for a favor, you do it. Especially when it’s someone who’s done so much for Ross and me.
“Anything’s got to be better than this,” she answers flatly. “I want to bring a bit of life into the space. Some color maybe. Blue?” She eyes the layers of white pillows on the bed critically, as if they’ve offended her by being devoid of color.
“Blue would be beautiful. Are you thinking pale sky, maybe even haint blue? Or something bold, like Mediterranean sea? Or deeper and richer, like navy.”
“Hmm…” Kimberly hums. She wanders around the space, scanning the walls, touching the drapes, and peeking into the attached bathroom. “Probably lighter, but warm. I need it to feel welcoming and cozy. More casual and layered, not as fussy and formal as it is now.”
The description isn’t all that unusual. People typically want their spaces to feel comfortable, especially bedrooms, where they want peace and tranquility. But I’m watching her, not only listening to her description, and I’d swear she almost seems to be drifting somehow.
But Kimberly Andrews is not someone who lacks direction.
She enters every room, aware that the spotlight is hers to use or gift to someone else, as she sees fit.
People flock to her, not because she demands it, but because she glows from within with a kindness and goodness that’s entirely authentic, and people naturally want to be close to that.
“Sure. Let’s see…” I do a few quick sketches on my tablet, color drenching the room in a tone called Pale Wedgewood, adding a vague floral design to a few of the pillows and a ticking stripe to others, placing a patterned rug beneath a wood poster bed and velvet drapes on the windows, and accenting with brass lights over the artwork, before turning the tablet around to show her.
“It’s a quick sketch, easy enough to change anything you’d like to. ”
Her smile is soft and her gaze almost dreamy. “No, it’s perfect. I love it. How soon can you get started?”
Surprised, I blink rapidly. My crews are booked solid for months in advance, but this is a woman I love and who loves my family with a fierceness I strive to emulate.
“Uhm, well… I can get things rolling on paper today, and probably have a demo crew out…” I do some mental gymnastics to my schedule, hoping they’ll actually be possible, and say, “Next week?”
She nods decisively. “Do it. As quick as possible.”
“Do you have someone coming to stay soon?” I ask curiously.
“Or a deadline I need to be aware of?” It wouldn’t be the first time a client conveniently ‘forgot’ to mention that they have a guest coming, an event being held in the space I’m redesigning, or some other hard-stop on the work I’m doing for them.
“Oh no, nothing like that,” she says, waving dismissively. “I’ve just been using this room more often, and it feels so… cold. I’m ready for something new.”
The room is white on white on white, but I would never describe it as cold. It’s textured, nuanced, and professionally done, albeit a generation ago by my estimate.
I tilt my head, examining her more critically. “Kimberly, are you okay?”
Her lips lift into a bright smile, but it’s too bright, false. It doesn’t quite erase the pensive blankness in her eyes. “Of course. Excited to see what you can do.”
“Okay,” I drawl out slowly, not convinced. “I’ll send you and Karl a timeline so you’ll know what crews will be here, and when.”
“Perfect. Thanks, Violet.” She takes my hands in hers, squeezing them tightly. “Do you have time for a coffee?”
I want to say yes. I need to say yes. But I saw notifications for twelve missed texts, three calls, and two emails from Archie when I used my tablet. “I wish I did,” I answer truthfully, “but Archie will probably call out SWAT if I don’t get back to the office.”
We both know I’m not kidding. Archie takes care of his own clients these days, but we occasionally team up for larger jobs, like the one we’re in the middle of now, redoing an entire hotel in New York City. He’s on-site, and if he’s reaching out as much as he has in the last hour, there’s a reason.
“That’s fine,” Kimberly replies easily, but I can again hear the falseness to her voice. That, more than even my initial denial, stings. “I understand how busy you all are. Thank you for coming out today.”
As I leave, Archie is calling again and I answer immediately. “You are not going to believe what the inspector said,” he starts.
It’s not until much later that I give any more thought to Kimberly’s guest bedroom project… or Kimberly herself.