Chapter 10
Lauren tossed her pen onto her desk and rose from her chair. “Susan was right,” she said as she crossed the room toward the settee. “Her architect is extremely nice.”
Pumpkin lifted her muzzle from her paws and looked at her mistress.
“Mike was gracious about the last-minute changes we’re requesting,” Lauren continued.
“He’s leaving town for Christmas on Sunday, so he’s doing what I am—wrapping up everything before he goes.
” She sank onto the settee beside Pumpkin.
Her pup rolled onto her back, offering her belly with absolute confidence.
Lauren obliged, rubbing in slow circles as she kept talking.
“I was dreading that call,” Lauren admitted.
“Most architects hate input on structural issues, especially from designers. He may have been hesitant at first, but he warmed up right away. He even offered to accommodate any additional tweaks if I review his revised plans right away.” She paused, her hand stilling.
“That’s unexpectedly generous, given the time crunch he’s under. I never would’ve predicted that.”
Pumpkin squirmed, clearly displeased by the interruption. Lauren laughed and resumed the belly rubs.
“You know what I think you’d like even better than this?” Lauren said, standing. “How about breakfast for me and a pupcake for you?”
Pumpkin’s head snapped up. Her ears stood at attention.
“I think we’ve earned it,” Lauren added. “In fact, we’ll do this every morning until we get on the plane on Sunday.”
Pumpkin leapt off the settee and raced for the back door.
Lauren chuckled. “You understand the word pupcake perfectly.” She grabbed her jacket. “We’ll get everything to go.” She followed Pumpkin to the door, slipping her arms into her jacket. She slid her crossbody bag over her head and clipped Pumpkin’s leash to her collar.
“I also got an email from the team working on the synagogue restoration in Altadena,” Lauren continued talking to herself under the pretext of talking to Pumpkin as they stepped outside.
“They plan an early reopening, in mid-February, which is good news. The bad news is that the upholstery fabric I specified for the sanctuary pews won’t arrive in time.
The synagogue cancelled the order and they’re asking me to recommend an alternative. ”
They walked briskly, Lauren thinking aloud.
“I hate losing that original fabric. It was beautiful quality, reasonably priced, and perfect for the space. But I’m sure I can find another nubby weave in that muted blue gray that feels so authentic to the mid-century modern design of the sanctuary.”
Pumpkin trotted at her side.
“That space is gorgeous in its restraint. Clean lines, nothing ornate. The building committee wants to preserve the approachable, welcoming feel the building had before the fire. I’m thrilled about that.”
She glanced down. Pumpkin looked up and wagged her tail.
“The tall windows on either side of the sanctuary flood it with light. The warm oak pews echo the recessed ark. And those wide-plank floors add just enough visual grounding.” She paused.
“The sewing circle is working around the clock on the parochet. That’s the curtain for the ark.
Deep indigo wool against the parchment-colored walls will be stunning. ”
The building would honor its past while serving as a warm and welcoming community space for its present congregation. They’d been extremely appreciative of her help. She wanted to make sure the design served them now, as it had before the fire.
They reached The Friendly Bean. Lauren opened the door, placed their order, and leaned against the wall while they waited. She fell silent, mentally sorting through logistics, vendors, and timelines.
Pumpkin bumped her knee with her nose when the barista called her name.
“Good girl,” Lauren said, smiling as she collected their order.
They walked back toward K + L Interiors in thoughtful silence.
Back inside the office, Pumpkin trotted straight to the spot where she was allowed to eat.
Lauren opened the container holding the pupcake and set it down in front of her.
She took her veggie omelet to her desk and dropped into her chair with a long exhale.
The upholsterer had expected the fabric last week. They didn’t have time to special-order anything now. Lauren would call local fabric houses to assess what they had in stock. The synagogue would need to approve her choice. And she had five days to make this happen. It was a tall order.
This project is … blessed. What we need will show up. And when it does, it’ll be better, and cheaper. She closed her eyes briefly, leaning into the feeling of certainty.
When she opened them, Lauren dug into her omelet and pulled up her list of local upholstery suppliers, focused and confident she’d find exactly what the space needed.