Chapter 38
“Thank you for coming out today, especially since it’s New Year’s Eve.” The head of the synagogue’s building committee shook Lauren’s hand warmly.
“I planned to work a full day today,” Lauren replied. “I’m going to a party tonight, but driving out here this morning is fine. I’m eager to see how the work is coming along.”
The woman turned and led Lauren across the parking lot.
Together they walked around the side of the building to a rear entrance.
“The other members of the building committee told me the pews look fine,” the woman said as they walked.
“I tried to convince myself they were right. But then the architect stopped by early this morning—you just missed him, actually. The moment he saw them, he noticed the shoddy workmanship. Mike advised me to call the designer.”
She pushed open the door and ushered Lauren into the sanctuary. The space was bright and newly painted. Sunlight filtered through tall windows, catching the warm tones of the wood floor and the pale stone on the walls.
Lauren spotted the problem immediately. The reupholstered pews had been bolted into place, and even from the doorway she could see that the fabric installation was deficient. The seat cushions showed puckering and unevenness. Ripples ran across the backs in small waves.
Lauren flattened her lips into a thin line.
She walked slowly down each row, running her hands along the benches.
The upholstery fabric bunched and sagged beneath her fingers.
The welt cords that should have framed the cushions cleanly were crooked and gaped.
She took out her phone and snapped photos of the worst spots.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” the woman asked nervously.
Lauren nodded. “This work isn’t competently done,” she said frankly. “Who handled the job for you?”
“The cousin of one of our congregants,” the woman replied. “They offered to do it at a steep discount and rushed the job at our request. The rest of the committee thinks we shouldn’t complain because we pressured them to finish quickly.”
Lauren shook her head. “This wasn’t a difficult job,” she said. “There’s no excuse for workmanship like this. Have you already paid them?”
The woman sighed. “Yes, I’m afraid we have.”
“Did you question the workmanship when they installed the pews?”
“I did,” the woman replied. “They told me the fabric should smooth out once people started sitting in the pews. They said the cushions needed to be ‘broken in.’”
Lauren gave a small huff of disbelief.
“That’s not true, is it?” the woman asked.
Lauren shook her head again.
The woman wrung her hands. “I don’t know what to do. Should we ask them to fix it? Is that even possible? Or would we need to buy new upholstery fabric and start from scratch?”
“A good upholsterer should be able to loosen the staples, stretch the fabric properly, reattach the welting, and reinstall it,” Lauren said. “The material itself looks fine. It’s just poorly installed.”
“Would you speak with them for us?”
Lauren pursed her lips in contemplation.
“If their work was this sloppy the first time,” she said, “I’m not confident they’ll be able to fix it.
But I do know someone who is competent to correct the problem.
” She glanced around the room, studying the rows of pews.
“Would it be all right with you if I called them to see if they have time to take this on?”
“If you believe it needs to be redone, then yes,” the woman blurted. “We’re actually a little under budget, so we can pay for proper repairs.”
“Good to know,” Lauren said. “I’ll do my best to get you the best price possible. I’m glad you called me. It would be a shame to let poor workmanship spoil what will be a beautiful worship space.”
“That’s exactly what the architect said,” the woman replied. “He told me he’s working with your firm on a residential project and that you’d know exactly how to handle this.”
A small smile tugged at Lauren’s lips. Once again, she agreed with the architect. “I’ll call my upholsterer as soon as I get back to the car,” she said. “When is your grand opening scheduled?”
“Late January initially, but I’ve extended it to mid-February,” the woman replied. “We haven’t set the exact date yet.”
“That should give us plenty of time,” Lauren said. She turned slowly in a circle, taking in the room again. “The walls and flooring are beautiful. It’s really coming together.”
The woman beamed. “Thanks to you and Mike. The entire congregation is grateful for your help.” She walked Lauren outside to the parking lot.
“I’ll be in touch as soon as I speak with the upholsterer,” Lauren said as they reached her car. “Try not to worry. I’ll make sure this gets resolved.”
“Thank you,” the woman said, clasping Lauren’s hand in both of hers. “And have a safe and happy New Year.”
Mike pulled to the curb in front of K + L Interiors on his way home from the synagogue.
During the drive, he’d replayed his conversation with the head of the building committee about the substandard upholstery work on the pews.
At the time, he’d suggested they call the designer. Now he wondered if he’d been too hasty.
He hadn’t asked whether the designer had actually contracted the installation.
The congregation had been doing as much of the work themselves as possible to save money.
If the designer hadn’t been responsible for the upholstery job, she might not appreciate being dragged into a problem she hadn’t created.
He would stop in to explain what had happened and apologize if necessary.
He pushed open the glass door. A small bell chimed overhead.
A woman with short, spiky blonde hair looked up from behind a desk and walked toward him with an easy smile. “You’re Mike Miller, aren’t you?” she said.
“I am.”
“I’m Kathy,” she said, extending her hand.
Mike took it. “I remember. We met at the Hunter project.”
Kathy nodded. “And now we’re both involved in the rebuilding work in Altadena. For such a large city, it’s funny how our paths keep crossing.”
“About the Altadena projects,” Mike began, “that’s why I’m here.
I was just at the synagogue a little while ago.
I recommended they call your firm about some substandard upholstery work on the pews.
” He shifted slightly, clearly uncomfortable.
“I wanted to stop by and apologize if I volunteered you for something I shouldn’t have. ”
“The synagogue hasn’t called,” Kathy said thoughtfully. “But my partner was there this morning. What did she say about it?”
Mike blinked. “I must have missed her.”
“Thank you for stopping by to mention it,” Kathy said. “Nobody likes to be blindsided by someone volunteering them for work.”
“Exactly,” Mike said. “And if I’ve accidentally become that guy, I’m really sorry.”
Kathy studied him for a moment. Susan Hunter had been absolutely right. Mike Miller was extremely nice. And extremely attractive. Susan was also right that Lauren and Mike needed to meet. She gestured toward a pair of client chairs near the window.
“I’m sure she’ll be back any minute,” Kathy said, sure of no such thing. “Why don’t you stay and talk with her when she gets back? While you wait, I’ll whip up a dynamite latte for you. In college, I worked as a barista, and I can create your initials in the foam.”
Mike laughed. “That’s impressive. If you dropped by my office, you’d be lucky to get a decent cup of black coffee.”
Kathy motioned again toward the chairs.
Mike hesitated, then shook his head. “I should get going,” he said. “I really did feel bad about volunteering your firm to solve that problem and wanted to apologize in person.” He turned toward the door.
“Thank you again for stopping by,” Kathy said. “I’ll tell my partner you came in.” Then she added, “And Happy New Year.”
Mike paused with his hand on the door. “That’s right,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s New Year’s Eve. I almost forgot.” He smiled. “Happy New Year to you, too.”