Ruby peered past Scott. “Now you’re talking my language.”
“Yesss.” Enthused that Shelby “got it,” Scott extended his fist toward her, and she gave it a lame bump. But why was Shelby looking at him that way? Not angry, but pained. Almost sad. As if someone twisted a knife in her side. As his brows knit in a silent question, she made a weak effort to smile and walked out of the room.
By the time they caught up with her on the back stoop, she acted normal again, discussing the fountain and pergola. She didn’t mention his idea about making the storage shed an outdoor dining space, so he suggested Ruby place lounge chairs under the pergola and allow him to supply a long, rustic table and benches for the backyard slab. Ruby loved the idea, but Shelby’s frown told him he’d invaded her design sphere.
The upstairs bedrooms required only simple updates with the expansion of the shared half bath into a full. By Scott’s standards, an easy renovation should produce a chic cottage for the Wentworths’ extensive family. What would not be easy was working with the complicated Shelby Dodson.
As he drove away, he pictured the tears in Shelby’s eyes yesterday and that look she gave him today. Annoying how those glimpses of vulnerability taunted him with the possibility of a connection. But unlike his overconfident brother, he recognized the impossible.
Chapter Five
I hope you’re pleased.”
Shelby stood with a hand on her husband’s tombstone and the damp grass soaking her sneakers. Until now, her commitment to redesign the Wentworth bungalow had felt like a memorial to Chet, a final project that might bring closure. But today, on demo day, Chet’s favorite day in the flip process, Shelby felt she had to ask Chet’s permission to go to the work site. If she could get peace, she could get strength.
Ripping out appliances and smashing down walls had best showcased her husband’s strength and zany personality. Hyping it up for the film crew, he pulled pranks and staged daring feats. Sometimes, they captured an exciting discovery behind old walls—or, heaven forbid, an actual injury.
Shelby had no idea what a demo day with Scott Matthews’ crew would be like, but there would be no laughter, no lunch break when Chet downed two subs and three cookies, and no sweaty hugs. But she’d promised Scott a check for another ten percent of materials cost and a labor payment, and she needed measurements. She’d pop in and out, then maybe she could salve her smarting emotions with an afternoon at the antique mall. The Wentworth project did call for a different style than most of the furnishings and decorations she’d accrued at their—her—storage building.
She left the cemetery, gloomy under the heavy, dark clouds lingering after overnight storms, and drove to the work site. Two vans and Scott’s truck were already parked behind a metal dumpster. Grabbing her phone and her wallet containing the checks from Ruby, Shelby locked her purse in the car. Two men carrying a 1950s, raised-burner gas stove nearly reamed her as she stepped onto the porch.
“Oh sorry!” She and one of the men spoke at the same time.
Scott appeared in the doorway. “There she is! Guys, take a load off.”
The workers, one tall and one short, but both dressed in scruffy jeans and faded T-shirts, lowered their heavy burden.
“Shelby, meet Hector, electrician.” With his hammer, Scott indicated the shorter, Hispanic man, who nodded. “And Ronnie, plumber. They’ve already got everything disconnected in the kitchen. Guys, this is Shelby Dodson … but you probably knew that.”
Ronnie removed his ball cap and swiped at a hank of sandy hair with a grease-smeared forefinger, then held out his hand to Shelby. “Ma’am. A real fan.”
“Thank you. Nice to meet you, Hector Electrician and Ronnie Plumber.” Smiling, Shelby shook their hands.
“You too,” Hector said. “Now we’ll just get this stove out of the way.”
Shelby stepped aside so the men could maneuver the heavy appliance down the steps.
Scott offered a grin and held the door open. “I see you’re dressed to work. Sort of.” He gave her a brief once-over, taking in her careless bun, flowing rust-colored T-shirt, and khaki shorts, before settling back on her face. Well, if he thought her makeup was too fancy, too bad. She didn’t leave the house without it.
Shelby waved her hand as she walked ahead of him toward the kitchen. “Demo day isn’t my thing. I’d get in the way. Besides, I’m not licensed and insured like you guys.”
“What do you mean? There’s a ton you can do without being insured. Demo, remove wallpaper, scrape paint, switch faceplates, spot paint. Didn’t you help Chet with some of that?”
“Sort of.” Shelby raised a shoulder as she moved around another man working in the empty space left by the range. With a pry bar, he lifted the Formica off a small section of cabinet. The refrigerator had also been removed, allowing her to envision the kitchen with stainless appliances and a custom vent hood. “I told everyone where I wanted everything, but to be honest, I only helped with demo and construction stuff if the producers wanted to include me in a few shots. Pretty much stuff they staged.”
Scott stared at her blankly. “You mean you missed out on most of the project?”
She stared back. What was with this guy? “Trust me, I do plenty of work. There’s a lot of shopping and planning in design—some of it on computer programs the construction crew never sees—and when it’s time to decorate, it’s all me.” Sliding her phone and wallet onto the remaining counter, Shelby broke eye contact in hopes of alleviating the tension.
Scott shifted. “Uh, Shelby, this is Todd, my handyman.”
The round, middle-aged worker with a balding pate turned to her with a smile. “Nice to meet ya.”
“You too.”
“Pretty much anything you want done, Todd can do, but we’d actually thought these kitchen cabinets would be a good job for you.”
“Eh … how so?” Shelby turned with trepidation to inspect the hundred-year-old shelving behind her.
As Scott walked over and rubbed his finger into the groove of an antique hinge, Shelby couldn’t help but notice how his T-shirt outlined a fit, if not bulky, physique, while the bill of a worn ball cap framed his long-lashed green eyes. “We agreed to remove all the doors and keep this section in place, but the paint needs dug out so you can get at it with a screwdriver, see?”
“Well, yeah, but I just stopped by with the checks, and because I need some measurements before I furniture shop.” Save for a few favorite pieces of the clients’, Shelby’s remodels included full new furnishings. Otherwise, she couldn’t accomplish the needed sense of unity and flow throughout the house.
“Aw, Ms. Shelby, you’re missing all the fun. Check this out.” Wood splintered with a familiar crack as Todd swung his hammer into the front panel of the cabinet section that would make way for an island. He palmed a sledgehammer and turned, offering her the tool. “You want to help?”
“Oh … no.”
“Come on. In memory of Chet, take a swing.”
Shelby blinked sudden moisture from her eyes. “No. Thanks.” Right now, she just wanted out of here, away from the eyes of two strange men. This house should have been Chet’s and her project, done their way. She turned away, searching for the checks in her wallet.
“Hey, man, I think Hector and Ronnie were waiting on you to help load the fridge,” Scott said.
“Oh, okay. No prob.”
As Todd trotted outside, Shelby handed Scott his payment. “These should reflect the adjusted amounts we discussed.”
“Thanks.” Scott refolded the checks and stuck them in his pocket without looking at them. “Hey, I’m sorry about that. Todd had the best intentions. Like Ronnie, he was a big fan of your show.”
Shelby mustered a smile, but her face felt like she’d applied one of those green seaweed masks. “It’s fine.”
He rested a hand on the counter and ducked his head as if struggling with something.
With a tinge of dread, Shelby prompted him. “What is it?”
; Scott let out a sigh. “Well, it sounds like you and Chet had a different way of doing things, and I realize this can’t be easy on you. But you need to know something about my crew. Your crew for this project.” He paused, seeking her gaze before continuing. “They’re honest, hard-working guys who will stand on their heads to please you, but only if they think you’re invested. If you want to get the most out of them, earn their respect, you have to be part of what’s going on, not just give orders. Does that make sense?”
Embarrassment heated her face at the unexpected criticism his comments, even more than his question, implied. Her words hissed out terser than intended. “I’m not five.”
Expecting the smart retort Chet would have given, Shelby’s brain remained blank when Scott placed the handle of a knife in her hand. She stared for a second at the potential weapon before her eyebrows went up. “So I get to use this?”
A hint of a smile danced around Scott’s lips. “On the hinges, not on me. Because I know you’re not five.”
“I’m telling you, handiwork is not my gifting.”
“You don’t have to be good at it. You just have to be willing to put in some elbow grease, and I’ll help you. Please, Shelby?”
Why did he care? And why did she soften? “Fine. I’ll do the cabinet doors. That’s it.”
Multiple cabinet and drawer doors later, Shelby sat on the floor of the upstairs bathroom, scouring the old linoleum in twelve-inch strips with a utility knife. How had she gotten into this? She paused to rub her back. As she looked up, Hector appeared in the doorway with a cell in his hand. He tilted it back and forth.
“Is this your phone? Because if so, it’s about to blow up. Bzt, bzt, bzt. Even though it’s on vibrate, it’s really distracting. That under-counter kitchen wiring takes a lot of concentration, you know.”
Shelby raised an eyebrow at Hector’s petulant tone. “I thought you and Todd were taking down the breakfast room divider.” They planned to turn a smaller portion of that area into a Craftsman-appropriate, corner breakfast nook.
“Finished with that. Todd’s pulling up carpet, and I moved on to electrical.”
Shelby’s grin faded when she took her cell and looked at her screen, then swiped to open her messages. “Oh no. Oh no!”
“What? Did somebody get in a wreck or something?”
“No, but this is just as bad.” Shelby struggled to stand. “My family’s been texting and calling all day to tell me my crazy sister decided to drive up a day early!”
“You have a sister?” Scott appeared behind Hector, heat gun in hand.
Shelby ran shaking fingers over her bun, feeling one too many long locks trailing down her sticky back. “Yeah, Angelina.”
“How did I not know this?”
Hector frowned over his shoulder at his employer. “Why would you know this?”
Shelby tried to edge around the small rock of an electrician. “She’s—like—six years younger than me.”
“She’s up from Atlanta for a weekend visit? That’s nice.” Stepping into the small space she’d vacated, Scott plugged the heat gun in above the bathroom counter.
Shelby shoved the utility knife at him and started typing a reply to the last text while answering. “No, she’s moving in. I’ve got to go. Now!”
Scott quirked a brow at her panic. “Sure. See you Monday.”
Monday? Who said she was laboring here on Monday? Throwing Scott a perturbed glance, Shelby hurried down the steps. Already flustered with the man for coercing her from one task into another in front of the crew, she fought nausea at the thought of her father and sister sitting on her front porch since lunch.
But when Shelby pulled up in front of her tidy four-square, only a single, petite figure in a flowered romper perched on the top step, corkscrew ginger curls spilling over arms crossed on knees. A lidded Starbucks cup sat a few feet away while behind Angelina, it appeared someone had unloaded the contents of an entire U-Haul trailer.
“Oh. My. Stars.” Shelby forced herself out of the CRV.
The slam of the car door brought Angelina’s head up. She bounced off the step. “What kind of person doesn’t answer their phone for four hours and doesn’t hide a key under the planter?” Angelina compensated for her mild rebuke by throwing her arms around Shelby.
“I’m so sorry, I expected you tomorrow. As you know.”
“Right, well, can’t a girl change her mind? And get a bathroom?” Angelina clasped her hands in front of her and jumped up and down. “I downed a venti latte half an hour ago!”
“Yes, of course, if I can make it to my front door. You do realize my house is already furnished and decorated?” Fishing out her key, Shelby pushed her way past stacks of clear storage bins and crates holding small lamps, clocks, and photo frames.
“Ha, ha. It’s mostly clothes and art supplies, but I did bring a few things that were me. That’s okay, right?”
Gaze gravitating to a round lounge chair covered in a fuzzy, puce-green material, Shelby tried not to cringe. “Sure, but we’ll need Dad’s help. Where did he go?”
Maltie tumbled out the door, barking. Angelina darted in, glancing from the curve of the stairs on her right to the living room on her left. “Where is it? Sorry, I can’t remember.”
Shelby sighed. “Straight ahead through that door, into my bedroom.” The four-square shared the same original problem as the Wentworth bungalow—only one bathroom downstairs.
Invigorated by the appearance of an intruder, Maltie chased Angelina into the master, where her sister lost the yapping canine with the slam of a door.
Shelby picked up the dog. “Shh,” she whispered over Maltie’s growling head, trying to also quiet the churning sense of impending hurt. She repeated, “What about Dad?”
“Oh, he left.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I mean, he took me out for coffee, but when you still didn’t answer, he unloaded and hit the road.” Angelina turned on the water, then opened the door. Catching Shelby’s expression in the mirror, she added, “Oh, don’t take it like that, Shel. He wanted to see you. He really did. But he had an important dinner tonight.”
“Sure.” Shelby buried her face in Maltie’s fur as the truth punched her gut. The dog let out a whimper. “Let’s take you out to potty, then start clearing off the porch.” Though gracious knew how any of the four small rooms upstairs could hold all that stuff.
Before Shelby could open the door, voices came from the porch. “Now who could that be?”
Coming alongside her, Angelina wiped her hands on her shorts and tossed Shelby a bright smile. “That would be Casey, my roommate from last year, and Lin, my best art buddy, here to help me get settled. See? No worries. It’s gonna be a great year!”
Chapter Six
After a day spent squatting and kneeling, Shelby’s leg muscles protested her fourth trip up the stairs in her four-square. She tried to hurry because she wanted to help strike a balance between Angelina’s eclectic style and her home’s modern chic. But when she reached the bedroom door, she could hardly get inside. The girls had strewn bubble wrap and newspapers over every square inch of carpet as they dove into boxes to unpack decorations and pictures.
Shoving aside a blanket, she lowered the hamper she carried to the floor. “Just try to keep it all up here, okay?” Shelby offered a lame grin as she backed away.
“We will, big sis.” Angelina turned to her with her arms stretched around a bright bedspread in a plastic zipper bag. “Is it okay if I put my own comforter on the bed? I like to lie on top when I’m studying and don’t want to mess yours up.”
Shelby glanced at the muted print, elegant Pine Cone Hill comforter that tied everything together. How could anyone not be delighted with it? She and Chet had shopped for each decoration together, and it seemed disloyal to move anything, even for her sister. But she wanted Angelina to feel at home. If she didn’t, she might not stay. “Sure.”
As Angelina folded up the comforter, Shelby held her arms out.
“You can probably store this too.” Casey nestled a Mary Jurek hammered silver bowl atop the bed linens. “Doesn’t really go with Ang’s look.”
“Okay. I might use this in the renovation. About dinner …”
“Oh, I’m starving!” Angelina cried.
Shelby smiled. “I thought I’d run out and pick something up. Do y’all like Mexican?” In truth, she needed to soothe her flustered emotions with a stroll along River Walk to her favorite Mexican restaurant at Eighth Street. Scott’s and Angelina’s changes were in a single day sweeping away any remaining evidence of Shelby’s old life.
“Sure.” Lin looked up from testing Angelina’s bulletin board against the far wall. “We like Mexican. Thanks!”
No one offered any money.
Shelby nodded and backed out. Boxing up the decorations, Shelby wondered if this was her life now. The big sister who provided a laundry and meal stop for college students. Maybe she should just go ahead and hang some Greek letters on the porch. She giggled. That could be funny.
In the shower, hot water washed away the grime of Shelby’s first real demo day. Scott had been right, she’d felt a sense of accomplishment when she’d finished the cabinets. So what if Ang showed up early? And her dad left? Like that was something new. Why did she feel so off-kilter?
Maybe because today reminded her how little control she had over her life. One second, you could have everything. The next, it all could disappear. No more marriage. No more admiring friends. No more plan for a family of your own. No more career. She was no one now.
Shelby scrunched into her fluffy bath towel, trying to shake the feeling of wanting to disappear, that same feeling she’d get when Chet was mad at her, not talking to her. Small and alone … but worse, because even though they’d fought a lot, she’d known someone stronger stood between her and the world. Now, she had to face reality. Other people were changing the course of her life. Everything Shelby once thought she could count on had faded.
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