5. Enzo
Enzo
I think positive affirmations are a scam, but I can’t think of another way to describe what’s been going on in my head the whole drive to Joni’s house this morning. Instead of self-esteem boosters, though, they’re more like humiliation deniers.
I did not make a fool of myself for offering to go shopping with her for a kitchen island.
She understood the joke when I said I was available if she got desperate.
She hasn’t been judging me all weekend long.
I’m the only one who has even given this a second thought.
It’s not going to be weird when we see each other today.
Joni’s leaving as I pull up to her place. I roll down my truck window, and she does the same.
“On your way to pick up that perfect kitchen island you bought Saturday?” I ask, trying to sound way more comfortable than I feel, hoping I’ve calibrated my voice to sound friendly without any overcompensating sarcasm.
“Decided to avoid the Saturday crowds,” she says. “I’m headed to meet Glynnis and Sabrina for breakfast, and then we’re hitting every antique store and estate sale within a twenty-mile radius.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a busy day ahead of you. Good luck.”
“Thanks. And thanks for being patient with me. I know I should’ve already taken care of this.”
“Nothing else can be installed until the floor’s done and the grout’s cured, anyway. You’ve got at least forty-eight hours to find the island of your dreams. No pressure.”
“Well, if I’ve got that much time, maybe I’ll make a few more changes.”
I laugh because I know she’s joking. I hope she’s joking.
Either way, her gorgeous smile and that light in her eyes could easily buy her a few more hassle-free change orders.
If I had to guess, I’d say my reputation as a GC is that I’m highly qualified and extremely thorough, but not exactly flexible, especially when it comes to the schedule.
Nothing like a hot redhead to ruin your reputation.
When the sun hits her hair the way it does right now, she’s fucking stunning, so much so that all I want to do is tell her to cancel on Glynnis and Sabrina and take me with her instead.
I shake my head to clear my delusions as I drive forward and park. Joni Prescott’s a lethal combination in several areas, and I honestly don’t think she has a clue. She’s confident, but I’m not sure she fully realizes her impact.
Some women know. Glynnis Ramsey knows. When she referred me to Joni, I was expecting her friend to match her energy, and she does in some ways, but the overall impression is different.
Joni’s not missing anything; she’s just got her own thing. And it works for her. Hell, it’s working for me, whether it’s intended to have any effect on me or not.
I stare at myself in my rearview mirror.
Get it together, dumbass.
Fortunately, my tile guys show up and leave me no choice but to pull my head out of my ass and get to work.
By the time Joni comes back home, she has a new kitchen floor, and cleanup is almost complete.
The grout is starting to dry on the surface at the far end of the room, and the color is a perfect match to the sample.
It’s always nice when there’s a slightly dry section when the customer sees it for the first time.
Wet grout looks dark, no matter how light the final shade will be.
Some customers panic, and after her reaction to the cabinets not going in on the day she expected, I’d like to avoid panicking Joni.
We stand next to each other at the entrance to her kitchen, and I study her face for her true reaction. I need to see it in her expression. That’s where the truth is revealed.
She looks pleased, but I’m not positive. I can usually tell if a client is holding something back.
“Okay,” I say. “Break it to me gently. How much did today’s shopping spree affect the scope of your remodel?”
“Ummm . . .”
Oh, shit. She was definitely holding back. She might be about to put this project into a tailspin. I don’t do tailspins.
“Well, the good news is I found an island.”
“That is good news. Are the dimensions of this island going to be a problem?”
“Nope. It’ll be a perfect fit.”
“Okay. Is there anything else I need to know?”
“I also bought the lighting for over the sink and the island.”
“And?”
“And a vintage tile mosaic for the backsplash behind the stove. All the pieces are there and there’s not a single chip. I know that means the original tilework has to be reconfigured, but this mural is meant for my kitchen.”
My shoulders slide down in relief. “That’s not a huge deal.
My main tile guy’s got skills. He can make adjustments for a mural behind the stove.
Hell, if you want to choose new surrounding backsplash tile, that’s not the end of the world either.
I won’t love it if it causes a delay, but it shouldn’t.
He hasn’t picked up your backsplash tile yet, so that would be an easy change. ”
“Oh, good. Because I do want to change that.”
“No problem. Just please try to stay away from anything that’s a special order. And keep your budget in mind.”
“Got it. I’m sure I can pick something from what they have in stock without a huge price variance.”
“Your words sound agreeable, but your face looks like you’re trying to avoid a confrontation.
What is it?” The worst possible thought occurs to me.
“Joni, trust me. We can make this floor tile work with whatever island or lighting you’ve chosen.
It’ll work with any backsplash. It’s neutral.
You do not want us to rip out this new floor and—”
“No. No, of course, not. It looks great. I might like it even more than when I picked it out. Love the floor, Enzo. I promise.”
“Uh-huh. Just say it and get it over with.”
“The island needs a tiny bit of refurbishing.”
“That’s fine. It can go in at the very end of the project.”
That’s when she reveals another twist, and this time, her words fire so fast I can hardly keep up.
“Plus, I want to use a different material for the countertop on the island. I know I swore I wanted soapstone on all the counters, but this island just begs for Carrera marble. I’ve always loved that look.
I didn’t want it for the whole kitchen because I thought it would look too polished, just too much, you know?
But on this island, it’s the only thing that’ll work.
I love to bake homemade bread, and it would be the perfect surface to knead and roll dough. I have to have it.”
“Relax, Joni. You’ve sold me. We can make that happen. I know I can come across like a hard-ass sometimes, but I didn’t mean to make you think I couldn’t tolerate any changes. I need you to tell me as early as possible, though. These things are all fine.”
She speaks in triple time again as she adds, “And I want to bump out the breakfast nook to incorporate a bay window with a built-in bench.”
There it is! There’s the fucking grenade she’s been holding the pin on. My jaw tightens, but I retain my inside thoughts until I’ve taken a few cleansing breaths.
“New island choices, tile, lighting, none of that requires a new permit. A structural change does.”
She shrugs and smiles. “Good thing I mentioned it early, right?”
“Early would’ve been three months ago.”
“How was I supposed to know I was going to want this change when we first started planning the project? That’s why it’s called change—because it’s different from the original plan.
I bought an island that needs a Carrera marble top and belongs in a kitchen with a bay window. I don’t know what else to tell you.”
So matter-of-fact. There’s no point in arguing with her. I may not have known her long, but I can see the resolve in her eyes.
“Without walking on this tile, can you give me a general idea how far out you think this bay window needs to extend?”
“Far enough to accommodate the new kitchen table I bought. Well, I mean, it’s not new. It’s an antique, round trestle table that weighs a metric fuck-ton because it’s sold oak and the most perfect match for the island. I swear, you’d think the same person made both pieces—”
“Do we have dimensions on this table, by any chance?”
“It’s being delivered day after tomorrow.”
“So, for the next two days, we’re in limbo.”
“The cabinets can still get installed. I’m not making any changes to those. I swear.”
“And we for sure won’t need to redo the layout?”
“No, the only thing I want to change is this end of the room. Only the breakfast nook. Everything else stays as is.”
“You’re sure?”
She nods, but then immediately sucks in a sharp breath.
“Don’t do that. Speak now or hold it in forever.”
“I might want a slightly larger stove.”
“You live alone. How much bread are you going to bake? If you go bigger on the stove, you’re getting into commercial appliance territory. Are you opening a bakery?”
“No. You’re right. It’s just that they make these reproductions that are so beautiful.”
“I knew that’s what you were talking about. Did you happen to glance at the price tags on those stoves? If you’re willing to pay for that style, I guarantee we can find you one that will fit the opening in your cabinets. You don’t have to go bigger.”
“I didn’t think about them being available in smaller sizes. Are you sure?”
“Positive. But if you’re going to spring for upgrades like that, I hope you plan on living here forever.”
“I do, actually. You know what? You’re right. I should get precisely what I really want in my forever home.”
Is that what I said? I don’t remember saying those exact words. Doesn’t matter because she’s beaming right now. Clearly, she heard what she needed to hear.
“If you can get me some links or brochures for those stoves, that would be great,” she says.
“Yeah, I can do that. Are you going to want a matching fridge and dishwasher, too?”
“It would look ridiculous if I only upgrade the stove.”
“It’s your money.”
“You’re right again. It’s only money.”
“That’s definitely not what I said.”
“But it’s the truth. For just a little more, I can get my forever appliances.”
“They can make new appliances look like the vintage models, but that doesn’t mean they’ll last as long as the originals.”
“Nobody knows how long anything will last. The best we can do is choose what makes us happy and enjoy it for as long we can.”
I know she’s not talking about appliances anymore, and I for sure have no business weighing in on her loss or how it’s shaped her views. Joni hasn’t talked to me about her personal life, but Rhett mentioned she lost her husband several years ago. Too young. Cancer.
Rhett Wilding is that old-school protective type when it comes to the women in his life.
I like the guy, but he gives off a guard-dog vibe sometimes.
He and Joni are just friends, but he wasn’t looking to set me up with her.
I’d think he’d have his hands full trying to keep up with Glynnis, but I know why he told me about Joni’s husband.
It wasn’t to drum up sympathy for her, and it wasn’t necessarily a warning . . . just a message that didn’t need to be explained. I got it. No offense taken, but I also won’t be asking for his approval if I see a chance to make things personal with her.
If she can afford ridiculously expensive appliances, and they’ll make her happy, then she’s right. She should have them.
This project is going to look better in my portfolio than I knew.
And maybe if I don’t offer my opinion where it’s not needed, I’ll look better to her.