2. Enzo
Enzo
We’ve nearly got all the cabinets removed and tossed into the roll-away dumpster when Joni makes her first appearance of the day. I’m honestly impressed she stayed away this long.
Plastic sheeting has been hung from the ceiling to create a temporary hallway between her kitchen and the front door.
The idea is to contain the mess and keep her living room from being covered in dust. We’ve taped cardboard to the floor to protect it from scrapes and dirty boot prints. Still, I steel myself for her reaction.
Even the most reasonable client can be overwhelmed by the true devastation of demo.
She emerges from the passageway with a plastic grocery bag hanging from each hand and nods her head in approval. “Wow, y’all work fast.”
“It always looks worse before it looks better,” I say, reassuringly.
“I know,” she says. “I’m not worried.”
Okay, this is promising. Maybe she was just having a moment last night when she decided to start the project on her own.
“Did you bring my hammer back?” She shoves the grocery bags into her fridge, giving me the side eye. “Don’t get your toolbelt in a twist. It’s just fruit and salad stuff. I know I can’t cook in here, but I still need food.”
“I was thinking I might hold your hammer hostage until we’re done.”
My crew stops working to watch our interactions. I’d like to think they’ve halted solely for safety reasons, but they’re way too invested in the mystery of the pretty homeowner’s hammer.
“Oh, yeah?” Joni asks. “Well, now I’m thinking I might have to charge you a rental fee.”
“No one’s going to use it. I’m just keeping it safe.”
“Or maybe I should file theft charges.”
“You don’t need that hammer back right now.”
“You don’t know that. Besides, it’s mine, so whether I need it or not doesn’t matter. Give it back.”
My guys are leaning in at this point. I told them the homeowner tried to bust out the countertop on her own.
But I left out the part about how she got injured.
And that I instinctively wrapped my arms around her to stop her.
I’m shocked enough that I did that; I don’t need to see the shock on anyone else’s face.
There’s a small gash on her forehead from the tile. I should’ve insisted she go to the ER last night. Looking at it now, I feel sure it could’ve used a few stitches. At the very least, she should have a bandage on it. I take a breath to stop myself from commenting on it.
“Your hammer’s at my place. I’ll bring it back tomorrow.”
“That’s bullshit. I bet it’s still in your truck.”
She catches me off guard, and my smile betrays my lie. Of course, her damn hammer is still in my truck, but I didn’t expect her to realize that.
“All right, guys. Get the rest of these cabinets out, and let’s call it a day.”
I turn to Joni. “Walk out front with me, and I’ll return your hammer.”
The three-man demo crew focuses on the final cabinets, but I catch the grins on their faces before they turn away. It’s only day one, and my interactions with the client have already turned into a source of entertainment.
I wait until we’re standing next to my truck on her driveway before I weigh in on how she’s not caring for that head wound.
“It’s fine. I have liquid bandage on it. See?” She pushes her hair out of the way and tilts her face to give me a better view of the clear coating on her skin. “That’s all they would’ve done at the ER, but they would’ve charged half my renovation budget to do it.”
“You cleaned it well before you covered it, right?”
“Did you have to leave medical school unexpectedly? Is that why you became a contractor?”
I wish I didn’t find her sarcasm so damn stimulating. Intellectually. Mostly.
“I never had any desire to go to medical school. I just don’t like anyone being injured on my jobsite.”
“I’m not going to sue you because I got a cut on my forehead. Especially not one that I caused.” She laughs as if a frivolous lawsuit is the only possible reason I could be concerned about her wellbeing.
“My attorney will be so relieved to hear that.” I make sure my response carries enough of my own sarcasm that she can’t miss it, but I deliver it with a smile to be sure she knows I’m not being an asshole about it.
Her return smile is tentative, as if she’s also trying not to come across in a way she doesn’t intend.
Tension frizzles the air like there’s a storm rolling in, but there’s not a cloud in the sky. No lightning in the distance, not even a sprinkle of rain, but the moment still feels storm-edge tense.
Fraught moments with a client aren’t unusual. It’s rare to get through a project without any. Remodels can get stressful. Misinterpretations happen. Delays happen. But whatever is happening here couldn’t be cured by referring to the contract or explaining a materials issue.
I found Joni attractive from the moment we met, but the more I’m around her, the deeper the attraction becomes.
She’s definitely not trying to make herself more attractive.
If anything, she seems like she couldn’t care less what I think about her, which only makes me think about her a whole lot more than I should.
This woman takes up more space in my head than her kitchen renovation does—and that’s a problem. But it’s my problem, not hers.