Chapter 6
six
. . .
Poppy
Day two. Day two was always better than day one.
Right? I was going to pretend that was a thing.
My phone chimed with my affirmation app. I peeked down to see it announce across the screen, I am exactly where I need to be.
I was. Even if that included my knuckles gripping the steering wheel just as hard as I had the last time I traveled up the highway. I focused on the road, trying not to zone out within the mental checklist I already had formed for the day.
The new renovation crew was set to be there by noon—with me present. The appliances would be coming in by the end of the week. Then, once I managed all of that, it would be my time to shine.
I balanced my phone between my shoulder and ear, listening to the static-filled ring.
A gruff voice answered. “ What , Sarah?”
“Oh.” I was startled at his greeting. He certainly didn’t answer the phone with the usual hello I had expected. “It’s not Sarah. I’m coming on-site and?—”
“Yes?”
I took a deep breath.
This was my job. My joy.
“Good morning, Mr. Hayes,” I restarted. “This is Poppy Owens from Home Haven. I wanted to let you know that I will be working at the house today soon and assure you that despite the lack of renovation in certain spaces of the house, everything is very much under control?—”
The line went dead, along with my hopes and dreams.
Okay, maybe I had been spending too much time with Hannah in a six-by-six space. My reactions were starting to take on a flair for the dramatic.
I dropped my phone in the cupholder. When I finally arrived up the long, hidden driveway, I let out a sigh of relief.
I wasn’t sure if there would ever be a time when I wasn’t secretly shocked that I’d made it.
Today was going to be better.
When I knocked on the door, it swung open.
Aaron Hayes stood in the middle of the doorway. He stared at me as if I were number one on his Most Hated list. Or maybe he hadn’t gotten enough sleep. A lavender haze circled his warm honey-brown eyes. Not only that, but he had to be cold. From rolling out of bed with his dark blond hair sticking up in all directions, he hadn’t even cared enough to put on a shirt. Gray sweatpants hung over his hips.
I forced my traitorous eyes not to dip toward his toned stomach again, locking my stare on his so that I wouldn’t be tempted—since it appeared around Aaron Hayes, I was worse than a man.
His eyes narrowed further, as if he wasn’t quite sure where he could place me as I stood on his front doorstep.
Do you remember me?
No. He didn’t.
That was fine. Aaron not recognizing me from all those years ago could be a great thing. This way, I could focus. I could start fresh and be completely professional.
“Oh.” I tried not to appear as startled as I felt. “Good morning, Mr. Hayes?—”
“Your so-called workers are already here,” he interrupted.
“Excuse me?”
“Been here for hours, homemaker,” Aaron stated, his voice gruff with displeasure. “Maybe you don’t have this whole place under control as much as you thought.”
Stepping inside, I could hear the few voices echoing through the cabin. The workers weren’t supposed to be here for another hour, I’d thought, but when it came to this house, I should’ve known to expect the unexpected.
The fact that there were no showerheads in the showers yesterday was case in point, and it appeared that no one knew where those fixtures had gone in the hustle of them clearing out last week, which meant another order. Another change.
The door shut from somewhere behind me. I didn’t bother to take off my coat as I made my way to the group of men standing in a circle in the middle of the empty living room.
One of them turned around, moving toward the hall.
I stood a step back, trying to move out of the way. “Um, hold on a second. Excuse me.”
The man wearing a threadbare T-shirt laughed, hopefully at something his coworkers had said and not about the fact he’d almost run into me. His eyes were half lidded as he waved his hand somewhere over my shoulder. “Care to move aside so we can get finished already?”
“I apologize,” I said kindly enough, though my hands went to my hips. I didn’t move from where I stood in front of him. Hannah would be proud of me right now. I was standing my ground like the badass interior designer who would own that senior designer title. “I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Poppy Owens. I’m the contact person for the home design.”
The one guy raised his dark eyebrows. Dear Lord, was this area filled with men who wanted to look at me like I was some sort of confused animal wandering in here? If this was the foreman who had started on this project in the summer, he certainly didn’t have the same gruff yet kind consideration in person.
“You?” he asked. “You’re the person who brought everyone out here when we were already on a tight schedule before the holiday?”
It wasn’t right before the holiday. Near the holiday perhaps. Sort of.
The man I’d talked to on the phone didn’t sound slightly as put out.
I cleared my throat. “Yes. Me. Thank you so much for coming out after it appeared some of the work here was incomplete by the precious crew that we employed.”
“Are you lot giving this woman a hard time?” a voice called out behind me.
All attention went to an older man shaking his head until his eyes found mine. One hand reached up to scratch his thick beard. The other waved off his workers.
“Give us a second, will y’all?” he asked, though it wasn’t much of a request.
The other guys mumbled around something but found other places in the small home to be as the man, whose voice more so resembled the man I had talked to and who was recommended through Home Haven’s directory, made his way until he stood in front of me.
“You must be Ms. Owens.”
“Poppy is fine,” I said. “Thanks for coming in and looking over the place. I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier.”
“We had an early start. Don’t you worry ’bout a thing. My name is Frank. I don’t care for no titles much either, so I have a feeling we’ll be gettin’ along just fine, working together.”
The corner of my mouth curled up for the first time since I’d walked in the door. “Nice to meet you, Frank.”
“We don’t have much time to waste, so let’s talk house. I don’t understand how such a project was brushed to the side like this,” he muttered, though not with me. According to Michelle, whenever she hired this man, he was thorough with his work. This place right now must’ve looked like a disaster. “Whoever was in here before us got lazy.”
That was putting it lightly.
“It looks like whoever did the exterior on this place during the summer months did a fantastic job. The inside looks like it was done by an entirely different team.”
I inhaled sharply, causing him to pause. I had known it didn’t look right the moment I saw that part on the project listing the other night when I was double-checking everything. Sure, it wasn’t completely out of character for Home Haven to assign two different crews to a house that needed a large overhaul. In some cases, it was too much work for just one, and Home Haven dealt in design and design only. The rest was hired out.
But in this case, it was a mistake.
And in the end, it was going to be my mistake .
“It was.”
“Whoever they are, you should make sure they’re off the list to work for you ladies at Home Haven.”
“Already done. After Michelle reached out, I let her know of the situation and that I was contacting a different crew to see if they could spare any time for us on such short notice.”
The foreman dipped his head. “I appreciate you thinking of the small business I have going here. We’re happy to be in contract, working with you all, and I’ll be damned if someone took advantage of you not being on-site for the start of reno. This place is basically a historical landmark. It fires me up to see such a project treated this way. Would you like me to walk you through what I see has already been done to make sure we’re running at the same speed?”
“Yes.” I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I read through the report, and I have been following the schedule of what should’ve been done.”
“And it’s just you on this project?”
“Just me,” I confirmed, hoping there was more determination than nerves in my voice.
“I got a good overview of the house before you walked in.”
I tried to stand strong. He wasn’t judging; in fact, he looked a little nervous.
And nervous could only mean …
“Oh no.”
“It’s nothing to worry about,” he assured. “But we did find a problem in the bathroom.”
“The one we just finished?” For some reason, I could tell he wasn’t talking about the vanishing showerheads or the fact that not everything was properly grouted in the tile work.
“The problem is the original shared bathroom off the hallway. There’s mold.”
“Mold,” I repeated.
“It was likely left when they attempted to redo the panel. They weren’t paying attention, is my guess. It’s not too far gone, but it does put us another few days behind. There’s no way around it. We need to redo it to make sure the space is as it should be and won’t be getting anyone sick in the long run.”
“Right.” Mentally, I started to push things back in my schedule.
“But we also have other jobs coming up that we need to leave the site for. We have a week we can offer. Maybe a few days after.”
“A week,” I repeated. There was so much left to do. “Only a week?”
I had the list written up, and suddenly, I wished I had it on my tablet, which had become the singular thing keeping me together and everything straight. There were the bathrooms, of course. The mold needed to be dealt with. I was happy it had been caught. But there was also putting the final touches on the kitchen once the appliances made their way in. There were the floors that were never refinished, as was part of the prior contract. The bookshelves weren’t built in the living room. None of the walls in any of the rooms, besides the kitchen, were painted and couldn’t be by the team I hired until the rest was complete!
Uncertainty brewed high in my chest. No team was ever going to be able to do all of that before they left. They wouldn’t be able to.
“We can finish up the bathroom and floors if you already have the stain picked out, but that’s the final part of our job here on this project,” said Frank. “The rest is up to you. I’ll let your boss know what’s going on.”
I shook my head. “It’s all right. I’ll make sure it’s covered.”
A huff sounded behind me. As I turned around, I noticed Aaron moving away from us toward his bedroom. The door shut quickly afterward.
At least I wouldn’t have to worry about him. Maybe, if I was lucky, he’d stay out of the way entirely.
Frank seemed to understand immediately. “We’ll get started right away.”
When it came to renovation, things often got worse before they got better. It was just how things went.
I’d watched the up-and-down process secondhand when shadowing other designers. It wasn’t out of the ordinary that when they were in deep with a project, they got a little more than they’d bargained for. Creaky floorboards, lost shipments of throw pillows, cracked paver patios no one noticed until the day before everything was set to be complete for a final walk-through. It was rare that when it came to a home project, everything went right.
A good interior designer was calm, cool, and collected. I took a deep breath with each new heartbreak and news.
That didn’t mean I didn’t want to cry about it.
Just a little.
I was starting to doubt anyone in the history of Home Haven had ever had to deal with a renovation monster like this project.
For so many reasons.
“What do you mean?” My voice shook in a way that warned everyone around me that I was about to be reduced to a full-on mental breakdown.
I didn’t think anyone would blame me at this point.
Not even Frank could hide his disbelief at the chaotic mess this project had become in record time.
He and his men had been working nonstop on my to-do list. Bathrooms were being completed, light fixtures were being wired correctly this time before being hung, and the floor was re-stained the correct color after I’d realized it was incorrect on my second day—and not just because Aaron Hayes wandered by to second-guess if I was sure about that color. Luckily, I was able to reorder it by the third day in the correct shade. But then the painters had to wait to come in since they couldn’t paint the walls when there was a tacky floor. There were still no appliances in the kitchen for some unknown reason. Not even the distributor could give me a decent answer for that one when I forwarded my email that matched my calendar, saying that they were supposed to have arrived on Tuesday.
Now, Frank took off his hat and rubbed his nearly bald head. How could men be bald on top but have a monster of a beard growing a few inches down? Was that a genetic thing that just affected the scalp or due to a hormonal problem? Either way, it was never a good sign.
“We need to tear down the tile along the one wall in the bathroom to fully remove the mold. It went further than we thought.”
My eyes flicked back and forth between his naked scalp and sincere expression.
“The main bed and bath are complete now, which is a positive from where we started. The walk-in shower is set. Fixtures are in, spick and span. The tile is immaculate. My workers didn’t cut corners, like the last crew.”
I hadn’t gotten to see it. Every time I snuck in, our not-so-gracious homeowner huffed about an invasion of privacy before I could get a good enough look.
But the foreman had taken a few shaky photos of the bathroom for me on his phone that proved they had gone above and beyond what I had pictured. It was clean and airy while managing to pull off dark graphite colors to give a cozy, masculine look.
It was so much better than the hack job before.
“Okay. I understand. You can do it?”
“Already started. There was no time to waste and figured you wouldn’t want to,” said Frank.
He was right.
“We’re already halfway through.”
At least that was one thing going my way.
“I’m afraid though, with this and the living room bookcases and detailing …” he drifted off, but I knew what he was talking about.
My built-ins, which were supposed to have already been built in, were no longer part of the deal.
Deep breath.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it,” I reassured him.
He shouldn’t be looking at me that way with such concern.
There was nothing to be concerned about.
“I can spare another day starting next week and send my guys to the next project we have,” offered Frank.
I shook my head. “No. I’ll work it out. You’re already doing so much more than I could’ve ever expected on a time crunch. Let me—I’m sorry. I just answered the door and need to go back to make sure that the lights people outside know the plan.”
Frank nodded his head in agreement. “You know where to find me.”
In the bathroom from hell , as it had been dubbed.
For the past week, the rest of the house had been full of noise. Unfortunately, it wasn’t only coming from the power tools and construction crew that had managed not to throw any more snide comments my way.
Aaron Hayes, however?
If I’d thought that I could make it through this project without having to see him more than necessary, I could consider myself vastly disappointed.
I tried to ignore his constant comments from when I showed up at the house to work to the moment before I left. It was a constant feeling of being torn back, only to have to build myself all the way back up again by the end of the day. And then …
The backlash was never-ending.
The workers are too loud. The reno is taking too long. Why are you still here?
When are you going to be done?
December? When in December?
Whenever I’m finished and this place looks nothing like the run-down shack it once did. That’s when , I wanted to snap.
But I didn’t.
I gave him the tentative date instead of saying what I wanted to, along with a very nice and detailed list of when he could expect people coming in and out for deliveries. I was hoping it would put his mind at ease—not that he appreciated the heads-up and extra work I had to do to make sure that he was comfortable while sleeping in the middle of what had turned back into a renovation site no better than the house had been a few weeks ago.
So far today at least, it seemed I’d gotten through half the day without a battle.
I paused once I got to the living room hall leading to where I’d left the outdoor light workers.
They weren’t there.
Did they already head back outside and start?
Leaning out the front door, I looked around the front yard. A gust of air hit me in the face. I crossed my arms. Most of the snow had melted over the past few days, aside from the big clumps that had formed into ice, glittering under the sun.
There was no one there.
Absolutely no one.
That couldn’t be. The Christmas light people had been right here. Just a second ago. I didn’t imagine them. Now, nothing. Not even the van of the few people, who, moments ago, were standing on the crinkling renovation paper in the entryway, remained outside. It was as if they’d disappeared.
Or ran.
No. This wasn’t happening again.
This cabin might be a shit show, but there were going to be Christmas lights.
I reached for my phone and dialed the number I’d confirmed earlier this morning.
“Hello. I’m inquiring about the outdoor light service that I had. They showed up, but didn’t do anything before they left.”
“Oh dear. Let me look into that.” There was a pause. “There’s a note on the file that says they were sent away about ten minutes ago.”
“What are you talking about? I just saw someone. They were right here on the doorstep,” I stammered.
“The holidays are a very busy time, Ms. Owens. Unfortunately, this is the second time we’ve had to reschedule. We will be moving forward elsewhere, and you will have to make your arrangements with another company.”
“But there is no other company,” I let slip.
It was the truth. No one around this area was able to put up the lights at this point. Everyone was booked solid for the next month. It didn’t matter if it was a small cabin or a million-dollar home by the coast; everyone wanted to make sure they were in the Christmas spirit, and I needed to make sure that it happened now.
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll be sending an email to the addresses we have on file to confirm this change of plans as well as the cancellation charge. Have a good day.”
“Yes, thank you. Oh! Wait!” I tried to catch the woman before it was too late.
The light company was going to send the update to the Home Haven email. But I knew what email that was, and it wasn’t only mine. The email they had on file was [email protected] , but it was also going to be cc’ed to my supervisor footing the receipt. And on this project, it was the one and only Michelle Maven.
I covered my face with my hands, my phone hot against my cheek.
Don’t scream. Don’t scream. Don’t scream.
What was going to happen now? What was Michelle going to think when she saw that I couldn’t even handle getting lights up in this place?
All the little mistakes were adding up.
There were only so many I could keep under wraps.
Swallowing, I took a deep breath, feeling the air get caught somewhere midway down. A balloon couldn’t stop expanding between my throat and chest.
Stop it.
This wasn’t going to happen.
I would not scream, but most of all, I was not going to cry. Not over lights. Not over mold?—
“Falling apart on the job so soon?”
I whipped my hands away from my face. My phone slipped out of my palm and onto the floor. Great. Just great. I leaned down to swipe it back up, checking the corners for cracks.
My arms sagged, though I still didn’t look up at the presence sneaking up alongside me. He’d likely watched the entire thing.
“Can I help you with something, Mr. Hayes?”
“Just one thing after another. It’s almost like someone doesn’t want you to be here,” Aaron mused.
I bit the inside of my cheek, letting him speak. I was going to be kind. I was going to be professional.
“Just stating facts, of course,” said Aaron as he turned on his heel and walked away. “Feel free to call my sister and call this whole mess off whenever you’d like. There is still time after all.”
“It’ll come together.”
“You sure about that?” Aaron asked the same question I had asked myself every day when the renovation didn’t seem like it was coming together or getting easier, only getting more difficult.
I lifted my gaze to Aaron. He shoved his hands into his grimy sweatpants pockets. He’d been wearing the same thing, I was pretty sure, since I’d arrived the other day.
“Call it quits. It sure looks like you need to cut your losses at this point.”
Air stuck to my ribs. “Don’t worry about a thing, Mr. Hayes. It will all come together in time for your family to enjoy the holiday with you.”
“Huh.” He nodded, looking around the living room. The space between his eyebrows crinkled.
“Yes?” I asked.
“Wasn’t there supposed to be built-in shelves or something over there in that big bare spot?” He jerked his thumb toward the one still-very-empty, unpainted wall.
I couldn’t stop the glare. I managed to direct it down to the floor as he sauntered away.
Frank hesitated in the doorway where Aaron left the room. He dipped his chin toward Aaron before walking toward me, checking over his shoulder once. “This house is challenging us all, Ms. Owens. First, there was the delay in the kitchen appliances.”
Kitchen appliances where the delivery to this address was mysteriously canceled.
“And then the paint order coming in incorrectly.”
Another strange occurrence that didn’t feel so strange at all as I looked where Aaron Hayes had wandered off to, alongside the painters having no clue what I was talking about when I called to reschedule after they were supposed to come and didn’t show up, floor stain or no floor stain.
“Almost like someone doesn’t want you to be here.”
“And of course, the electricity going out a few days back with the last storm. Remember to take a deep breath.”
My throat felt like it was closing in on itself. My right hand drifted up to it, as if I could somehow clear it with a touch. If anything, it made me feel like I was being strangled. “Uh-huh. Thank you. Everything is going perfectly fine. We’ll make it work.”
He raised his salt-and-pepper eyebrows, but didn’t dare to contradict me. “It has been nice working with you, Poppy. I can see what you’re trying to do here, and if you can pull it off—which I have no doubt you can—I can’t wait to see the photos. It’s a great place. Lots of potential.”
It did have potential. I knew it from the start.
Yet the reminder was still nice.
“Thank you, Frank.”
I started to get my new game plan together when I was cut off by the ring of my phone. I stared at the name lighting up the screen before I could no longer put it off. Pressing the phone to my ear, I braced myself.
“Poppy?” A hint of question tainted Michelle’s voice as I shuffled away from everyone into the mudroom. Though the house was heated, I crossed my one arm over my center to fend off the chill creeping in.
“Yes. Hello, Michelle.”
“Hi there. How are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m great. Thanks for asking.”
“Are you sure?”
There was no doubt that she already knew how badly I was screwing up.
I tried to correct it. “I knew from day one that this project would be a little more intensive than previously thought with the amount of renovations planned before I came in. There have been some product delays and, um, mis-scheduling as well.”
“I got an email from Ms. Hayes-Preston about the extra challenges this project is presenting. I have had nothing but confidence in you,” said Michelle.
“Thank you.”
“But I need to ask you right now.” There was a stagnant pause. “Are you capable of completing this job?”
My heart slammed into a brick wall. “What? Yes, of course.”
“I need you to be honest. This job has had a lot more issues come up. You’re right. Some of them were unavoidable from what I can tell and not your fault in the slightest, but as the holidays begin, I need to know before I go on my leave if I need to put someone else on this job to make sure it’s up to our standard. Any other time, Poppy, I’m sure that this would’ve turned into a two-person job.”
“No,” I assured her. “I’ve got this.”
“Are you sure?” Michelle asked once more. “I want you to be one hundred percent positive. You’ve been honest and kept me up-to-date with everything going on. I appreciate that and how you’re making sure that things are transparent, but?—”
“I’ve got this,” I repeated.
Did I though? I looked around the place. What was the likelihood that I could make sure the furniture got here after the floor was finally refinished and not before, let alone decorate and plan the best Christmas the Hayes-Preston family had ever had, like I’d promised Sarah?
“One hundred percent,” I confirmed.
“Okay.” Michelle took an audible breath. “You’re one of the best interior designers I’ve ever had on my team, Poppy. You have an eye. Not just for what is in style right now, but for what truly reflects the client. I need you to be on your toes and complete this job, no matter what it takes both for the client as well as to be in the running right now for the promotion we talked about.”
“I understand.”
“Please reach out if you need anything.”
“I will make sure this place is everything envisioned and more. No matter what it takes.”
“Make sure you’re also taking care of yourself, Poppy. Check in with Alison or anyone in the firm available to see if they have any ideas to assist you. It’s not a crime to ask for help. Sometimes, it’s the best thing anyone can do. Designing might be a solitary practice when deep into a project, but it can get lonely if you don’t have a team. It’s part of what made Home Haven what it is today for everyone in the office and those in their own homes looking to us to be their team,” said Michelle. “I have to go. Have a wonderful rest of your week.”
“Thank you, Michelle. You too.”
Ending the call, I shut my eyes and cradled my head. My head hurt. But no. I could do this. I didn’t need anyone’s help.
I was going to make it to the end of this project and get this promotion.
I was going to surprise them all. Including myself.
I eyed the plywood and other materials I’d already been gathering since the afternoon they had been left in the garage, alongside the few containers of paint that were correct for the living room.
Fine. If the crews weren’t going to do it and no one was going to show up to complete this home …
I was.
As an interior designer, working with my hands was one of the things I wasn’t exactly supposed to do. I developed a vision. The comfort. Aesthetic. I wasn’t actually supposed to create. Making things physically happen in the main scheme of the house was for the heavy lifters.
The renovators.
But those pieces in the end were something that made me feel even more at peace with each step I took and were part of the first reasons I had gotten into home design in the first place years ago. But this felt different now. It was different.
In fact, with each board I laid out, the more satisfied I became. Stress leached out of my shoulders, and my brain, previously full of schedules and worries, quieted.
There. This was working.
There. That was working too.
I was doing something. It was all in my control.
By the time I laid down a sheet and measuring, the day was already starting to look up.