4. Joni
Joni
Working in a veterinarian clinic, you learn pretty quickly how much you don’t know about animals, and also just how big of a sucker you really are for a pair of sad eyes and a furry head in your lap or on your shoulder.
But I was always able to compartmentalize, to keep my love of animals in the work zone, to not fall for their manipulative cuteness . . . until the day I fell.
Dr. Abernathy’s eyes just about popped out of his head when I volunteered to foster an alpaca.
I’d been working as a tech for over five years, so yes, I knew alpacas can be stubborn and are known to have the self-preservation sense of a reckless teenager, but Bryan had been dead for nearly three years, and I was lonelier than I was ready to admit.
I had friends, but I’d lost my ability to connect in any meaningful way. I wasn’t ready to date, no matter how many books said I should be. I was closer to being a recluse than I care to remember.
Work was the epicenter of my social life—my whole life, actually.
And it’s only a part-time job.
We’re not specifically a large animal practice, so we don’t have the facilities to house them, but Dr. Abernathy will go out to treat horses and livestock onsite if he’s needed.
No one had ever called about an alpaca before, but when the county responded to a neighbor’s complaint about mistreated horses and dogs, they also found an unexpected trio of alpacas in the barn.
Our whole staff went out that evening to help.
Some of the animals were in pretty bad shape, but local rescue organizations took them in—all except for one of the alpacas. He wasn’t too sick to go with the others; there just wasn’t room for him.
I took one look into his soulful brown eyes and volunteered to foster him on the spot.
I had a fenced pasture, and a barn with four stalls, but only because it was already there when Bryan and I bought the place.
I wanted the house. He wanted the land. Neither of us wanted animals that required a pasture or a stall.
We always figured we’d remodel the barn into something else someday. Someday never came.
It would’ve been selfish of me not to take that shy little alpaca in temporarily. Or to keep him a little longer when no one reached out right away with a permanent solution. And when days turned into weeks turned into months? Well, what was I supposed to do? Kick him out?
He’s grown into a diva, a prima donna, a total brat of a beast . . . but we’re buddies. It only took a few days for me to decide his name was Oliver. By the end of the third month, he was healthy and oh, so headstrong.
I painted his name on the new trailer I’d bought him and started taking him into town with me because I hated leaving him behind. Everyone fell in love with him. He’s practically the town mascot now.
And I didn’t just save him, we saved each other.
My fear that he would be mad at me for not taking him with me today is confirmed as soon as I walk up to him in the pasture. His head turns away so I can’t make eye contact, a clear message I’ve hurt his feelings. And trust me, hell hath no fury like an alpaca with hurt feelings. Especially Oliver.
I apologize to the side of his face and give him neck scritches anyway. He accepts the physical attention, but still won’t look at me until he smells the shredded sweet potato I’ve brought as a peace offering.
A good snack can usually take the edge off his resentment.
After I’ve made all the amends Oliver will allow right now—a sweet potato can only go so far—I head back inside to deal with my own resentment.
Not a single cabinet got installed today.
And there’s no floor. I don’t understand.
All the debris has been cleared out of the kitchen, and it’s obviously been well-swept, but they pulled up all the old flooring.
New floor tile is part of the project, but why would they bring in the flooring materials already?
I expected to see cabinets on the walls.
I need to see those cabinets installed so I can make a final decision on the island and the paint color and wallpaper. If they start doing things out of order, this project is never going to get done.
Enzo answers on the first ring, and the moment I hear his voice, I feel uneasy about calling him after hours like this. He sounds too relaxed . . . too friendly for the verbal assault I had planned.
“Hey,” I say. “Sorry to call when you’re off the clock, but I’m confused about what went on here today.”
His laughter is laced with an enticing tone that makes my inner flirt square up and prepare to spar. This is not the vibe for a homeowner who wants her contractor to take her seriously.
Fortunately, his taunt relents, and he begins to speak. Unfortunately, his voice carries the same damn tone. “Wasn’t aware I was working by the hour.”
“What?”
“You said I was off the clock. As if I’d clocked out for the day.”
“Well, you don’t owe me your time twenty-four hours a day.”
“True. But I can deal with a six o’clock phone call. What’s going on?”
“My kitchen has no floor and no cabinets.”
These boxes are trip hazards. I pop the flaps open on one to be sure they’ve got the right tiles inside. At least they got that right.
“Remember when I said it would look worse before it started to look better?”
“Yeah, but why’d they pull up the old flooring before they installed the cabinets? It doesn’t make sense to put the new floor down before the cabinets.”
“It’s the right way to do it. Especially since you are planning to use an antique piece for your island.
And I don’t know if it’s going to have legs or not since, last I heard, you hadn’t purchased it yet.
If it has legs, the new flooring has to go down first because it will show underneath the island. ”
“Oh. I guess that’s true. But I never said for sure I was going to use an antique piece. I may still decide to order new, matching cabinets instead.”
“What do you mean you haven’t decided yet? Are you having trouble finding what you want? Or have you not looked?”
“I need to see the other cabinets installed first, so I can decide which way I want to go.”
“You realize materials are generally chosen upfront, right? Kitchen remodels aren’t normally multi-phase projects.”
“I told you I want this remodel to honor the period of the house wherever possible, but I also want products that will last. Sometimes, that will mean using an antique piece, but sometimes, something new that’s made in a retro style will be the better choice.”
“I’m pretty sure I told you that last part, but we can agree to disagree about who said it first. What matters is that you have to make a choice so the project doesn’t stall. You said you couldn’t choose lighting until you chose the island. Do you see where I’m going here?”
“Yes. But I’m just not sure what I want yet.”
“Trust your instincts, Joni. You hated the island configurations that match the new cabinets. Go antique shopping. Soon. Please. You’ll feel so much better once you get that decision out of the way.”
“I know. You put the new floor in, and I’ll have a piece for the island by the end of the week.”
“You know today’s Wednesday, right?”
“Okay, by the end of next week?”
“How about the middle of next week?”
“Fine. One week from today, I will have the island.”
“Have fun shopping.”
“Thanks.”
This man has clearly never shopped for a specific item on a deadline. There isn’t going to be anything fun about it.
“Is there anything else you want to talk about?” he asks.
“No. Glynnis found some great pieces for her store at the last minute. I need her shopping karma. Maybe she’ll go with me to find my island.”
“If you get desperate, I’m free on Saturday.”
“No, that’s way too off-the-clock. I may not be your easiest client, but I won’t impose on your weekend. Enjoy the rest of your night.”
It’s not until after I hang up that I second-guess my response. He just offered because he doesn’t want me to hold up the project, right? He didn’t mean anything more . . . no, of course he didn’t.