Blooms Bones and Stones Box Set

by Olivia Swift

“It’s a very nice door,” he said, “but heavy,” she nodded.

  “I do like the appearance of wood and opted for the real thing.” She stood back and surveyed the work. “I’m pleased with it,” she said, and then wondered why he was there.

  “Evan told me how to find the house,” he said, “because I was driving through and they needed to send you some tubs of flowers. He put them in my car.”

  “Oh,” Miller replied. “Thanks very much.”

  I’ll bring them in,” he offered and started towards the door. She followed and told him that they were to stay on the porch steps and then helped him put the tubs in place. They both stepped back to see the effect.

  “That is really pretty,” Miller remarked and said that she had a new front door to hang as well. “I do like to do this do-it-yourself stuff. The door will finish the picture,” then she remembered her manners and asked if he would like a thank-you drink. He immediately accepted the offer and followed her slim figure into the kitchen. He sank onto a stool and watched as she found glasses and asked what he would like. From the first time he had seen her at his friend’s wedding, Jules Callander, photographer, was intrigued. The girl could almost be a relation. They both had red curls that were problematic, pale skin that goes with the coloring, and tawny-colored eyes. His hair was cut close to his head to get rid of the curls, and hers was tied back in a tail that really was not working. He liked the smattering of freckles across her nose and thought that she probably didn’t.

  “Ice water will be great,” he answered. She handed him a glass of water but made a coffee for herself.

  “Sorry the place is a mess. I haven’t started on the kitchen yet. I wanted to get the doors and windows done first and then start on the rooms. I’ve only been in a couple of weeks.”

  “What made you buy a tumbledown place?” he asked. “You could have a smart apartment, ready to walk into.” Miller shook her curls vigorously.

  “I love to upcycle stuff,” she started. She saw the look of puzzlement on his face and laughed. “Take old stuff and make it good again.” She turned and flicked a cover that was over a piece of furniture. “This was scratched and dirty but the old wood was still good. Sanded it and used chalk paint and then papered the panels in a vintage paper to match. Black legs and edges sort of finish it off.” He stood up and ran a hand over the paintwork.

  “It is superb,” he said in genuine admiration. “Do you know how much someone would pay for this in an upmarket shop?” Miller shook her head.

  “I know some people make money from restoring furniture, but I just like doing it,” she laughed. “To answer your question, my mom could only take so many extra pieces of furniture and suggested I fill.” She paused, “It will take some time, but I’ll get there in the end.”

  “Are you doing the front door today?” he asked. “I don’t mind holding it for you.”

  “Come and have a look at it,” she answered. “I couldn’t do it by myself.” He followed her into the garage and looked at the splendid door with colored panes of glass and ornate handle. The wood was painted in a shade to complement the glass, and the brassware gleamed even in the dimness of the garage. “I just love it,” she went on. “I saw it online; the glass was intact but the woodwork was terrible.”

  “You made this, like this, yourself?” he asked incredulously. His amazement was genuine. “It’s beautiful.” He looked at her. “Let’s get it up and I’ll take some photos.” Miller smiled at the enthusiasm and told him to help her lift it.

  “I know the other one will come off because I loosened the screws,” she told him as they lowered the door against the wall. She went for the electric drill and asked him to hold the old door. The hinges loosened easily. He caught the weight and lifted it away. “And the new hinges will go in the same place.” She went for a piece of wood to lift the door and thought how useful an extra pair of strong arms could be. He held it steady as she tightened the fixings and the new door was in place. They stood back and admired their handiwork.

  “Wow, that is fantastic,” he told her and pulled out a small digital camera. “Go and stand in your doorway.”

  “I am an absolute mess,” she protested.

  “No, the worker with the result will make a wonderful photo. We can do a posh one at another time.” Miller grinned and went to stand by the beautiful door. “Stand at one side and then the other. Look at the door and show it off as if you were on the stage with a magician,” he instructed. She went through the movements. He took a series of photos and some of them close-ups of the glass, the door hardware, and the girl. Photos came as naturally as breathing to Jules Callander, and he knew when he had captured the essence of a subject.

  “Can I see them?” Miller asked, and he flicked through them for her to see.

  “I’ll do some work and make you a portfolio,” he said.

  “What does that mean?” Miller asked, and he said that she needed to record her work.

  “You need to shoot all of the things you upcycle: they are works of art.” She shook her head. “Seriously, these things should be saved.” He laughed at her face. “I learned a new word as well. Upcycling. If you upcycle a lot, you should do before and after pictures.” They inspected the new door once again, and Jules reluctantly said he would have to go. “Give me your number and I’ll call when the photos are done.” She pulled out her phone and asked for his number. It rang and he answered although he was right next to the caller. “Thanks,” he said. “Glad Evan asked me to bring the plants down.” He climbed back into the car and waved as he drove away. Miller watched him go. It was good to have someone hold the door for her, but she still wanted to work on the house herself. She did stand back and admire the door and the tubs of flowers. It really did look good.

  “This door does look fantastic though,” she said out loud and went inside to close it behind her. The interior door was good as well.

  She then rang Evan and Jazz to say thanks for the plants. “Get in the car and come over,” Jazz told her. “Molly Kim is asleep and Evan is making pasta.” Miller needed no persuading and changed quickly into clean jeans and a different top, ran a brush through the wayward curls, and locked the new door behind her. Ten minutes later, she drove through the gates of Chestnut Hall and parked outside of the door. It had been the rear door, but since Evan and his brother Dex had halved the house, it was now Evan and Jazz’s front door and led directly into the enormous kitchen. Jazz came and gave her a hug.

  “Thanks so much for the planters. They look wonderful on the steps,” she told her friends. Evan called from the stove where he was working like a professional chef. She said she was starving and that it smelled great.

  “You did me another favor,” she told Jazz, as she settled on a seat with a glass of white wine in hand. “Jules held two doors for me while I put the screws in place.” Jazz raised her eyebrows quizzically and Miller laughed. “Do not start matchmaking, Jasmine Sutherland,” she warned. The door to the other half of the house opened and Dex and Carly joined the party.

  “Free food made for you,” Dex said. “Wonderful.” He took a beer from the fridge and grabbed a seat. Suddenly Miller was assaulted by a bundle of long, brown hair and a cold nose. Mungo the rescue dog had made himself completely at home in both halves of the house and insisted on sharing his slobber with everybody he met. She made a fuss of the dog that then rushed off to where he was more likely to get food.

  “How is Molly Kim?” Miller asked, and Jasmine flicked out her phone to display the latest pictures of the baby now three months old.

  “She is just so beautiful,” Miller breathed.

  “And quiet at the moment,” Jazz added. “Long may it last.” She paused, and then asked which doors Miller had hung. To Carly she added that Jules Callander had held the doors for Miller. Carly smiled and looked at Miller.

  “Oh, stop it you two. He was a gentleman and offered to help. The new front door is in place, flanked by your planters, and it looks fabulous. It is
a lovely door, but I did need someone to hold it for me,” she answered.

  “You would need a hand with that. It was really heavy,” Evan called across as he ladled out pasta and sauce. “Come and grab food.” With the bowl in hand and the first mouthful savored, Miller told them that Jules had taken pictures of the door and was going to send them when they were edited.

  “Mmm,” Jasmine remarked. “I wonder if he’ll bring them in person instead.”

  “Bound to,” Carly added. Miller grinned.

  “You two never give up. A professional photographer took a shot of my new front door. Can’t wait to see them.” She ate some more of the pasta and said that she was glad to get the doors on because she had to work the next day. She made a face.

  “High heels and my receptionist face. Still it pays for the house,” she said as she relaxed in the house that, once upon a time, she had thought belonged to an enemy.

  “Amazing to think that this house brought us all together,” Dex remarked. “Jules as well, for that matter.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Evan added and they clinked glasses and agreed. “Jules is one fantastic photographer. He’s just so natural at it. His prints sell for big money.”

  2

  Miller was curious after Evan’s remarks about his friend. As she sat with a drink before crawling into bed, she pulled up Jules Callander’s name on the web. “Wow,” she said out loud. “He is actually really famous and he was impressed by my handiwork. Well there’s a compliment I can live with.” She switched off the tablet and her eyes closed almost immediately. The work in the house and the evening meal at Jazz’s house was taking its toll. Sleep washed over her like a comfortable blanket. The last image in her head was Jules Callander pointing his tiny camera at her and the new front door.

  The next morning, being a workday, she donned a suit and heels that were high enough to be called high but low enough in which to do the day’s work. Her boss was sexist and definitely one to be watched. Miller had already lost her temper with the man, who seemed to be in line now. He had leaned a bit too close at one point and she had told him in no uncertain terms to back off. Her redhead temper had done the trick, but she was always aware that he could be trouble. Her efficiency and appearance, along with the fact that the customers liked her, ensured decent wages, but he insisted high heels and short skirts be worn by female employees. They went along with that but kept very much on the side of modesty. Miller often wondered if Bill Cardoon realized why he could never hold on to staff for very long---men or women---and then shrugged. The man was awful, but she was looking for other work like everyone else in the place.

  The place itself was as gleaming as ever, and as she crossed the shining floor with the click-clack of heels, she glanced in the mirror. She removed her jacket and tucked her shoulder bag under the reception desk. The two salesmen in the showroom called across their good mornings as she waved at them. Cardoon came out of his office to check everyone was earning the money he paid out, and the day’s routine swung into being. Cardoon checked on the salesmen and warned them yet again about how they were paid on commission and there were others out there looking for jobs. Miller could see the usual words being said, even though she couldn’t actually hear. She felt a pang of compassion for the two poor chaps who had to take it without a word. Cardoon looked around the showroom to see if it was spotless and then headed her way.

  “Morning, Mr Cardoon,” she said with her receptionist persona.

  “Full of yourself as usual, Miss Hollenbeck. Remember to be especially nice to the customers,” he smirked and walked away. She made a face behind his back and heard a chuckle from a salesman’s desk. Cliff, the main salesman, came across and handed her his appointments for the day.

  “These will probably all be sales, thank goodness,” he said. She said that she would bring them straight to him when they arrived. In the meantime, she started to bring records up-to-date. Cardoon never showed his face, but they knew he was watching whenever the customers arrived. It was a decidedly creepy place to work and Miller hated it.

  On her lunch hour, she called her mom.

  “I managed to get the front door on and it looks great,” she told her mother. “Jazz sent some planters for the steps and that photographer brought them.”

  Her mother hesitated. “You mean Jules Callander?” she asked. Miller told her that he had helped her hang the door and then taken photos.

  “Oh, my heavens, girl,” her mother replied with some excitement. “Do you realize how people would line up to have a photo taken by that man?” Miller’s mother and stepfather had been at Evan’s wedding and knew who had taken the photographs there.

  “I’m starting to get the idea,” Miller replied drily. “Everybody knew about him but me, it seems. Maybe he won’t bother with the photos.”

  Maddie Hollenbeck laughed and said that maybe he actually liked her. “That’s my girl. Stand on your own feet no matter what. If he comes back with the photos, at least be kind to the man,” she said and Miller had the grace to laugh a little as well.

  “And I suppose you never stood on your own feet and brought me up on your own?” she answered with a dig of her own. Her mother changed the subject. They spoke about lots of other things before hanging up. Miller smiled. Maddie Delonga had changed their name to Johns to escape pursuit by her father and had raised her daughter unaided. Then Maddie met Rick Hollenbeck. Her mom was one of a kind, but she would admit that finding Miller’s stepfather had saved her and made her happy. Miller never ceased to be grateful to Rick for that…and the fact he had loaned her the cash to buy the house. He was a man she was proud to think of as her dad. Rick loved his stepdaughter in return. They were a happy family unit.

  She went through the afternoon on autopilot, and saw no sign of the boss, which was a relief to everyone there. Her heart gave a lift as she drove up and saw the new door gleaming in the late sunshine. She sat in the car, and looked at it with pride for some minutes before she went inside.

  The chest that she had upcycled was still sitting without its cover, and she wandered around the house taking dustcovers off the other pieces she had restored. The cream-colored dresser in the small dining room was a special favorite and she wondered about moving it into the kitchen. Absentmindedly, she made a sandwich and coffee and contemplated the dresser. A knock on the front door startled her from her dream. Jules Callander was standing on the steps; her heart skipped a little beat and she stood nonplussed for a moment.

  “It’s me, Jules, with the photos,” he joked at her obvious blank look.

  “Sorry. Sorry,” she said and opened the door wide. “Come inside. You didn’t need to bring them over; email would have saved you time,” she babbled on as they went into the kitchen. He took her arm.

  “I wanted to bring them. Stop jabbering and look at them please.” The please at the end stopped her answering sharply and he grinned. “Please,” he repeated. She had the grace to apologize.

  “Stop saying sorry and look at the bloomin’ pictures,” he almost shouted. That did the trick, because he was reacting exactly the way she would have done herself.

  “Okay, Redhead,” she answered with a smile and took the proffered folder. She looked casually at first and then looked again. There was no mistaking the art in the result.

  “These are…these are… fabulous,” she managed at last. He pushed her down by the shoulders onto a seat.

  “It’s what I do. It’s my job,” he said patiently.

  “I know that but what have you done? I actually look quite good.”

  “Photoshop and practice,” he said matter-of-factly. She handed them back.

  “I can’t take them. Thanks, they are lovely but it wouldn’t be right.”

  “Why on earth?” he started and then relaxed. “Okay, so you know my reputation by now. It was all right when I was just a muscle to hold the door, but now you won’t take a gift from a friend. Well, thanks. Thanks a bunch. I thought you had more gumption than t
hat.” He tossed the folder on the bench and walked towards the door. “You can’t throw it back in my face if I leave.” Miller was horrified and started to cry a few tears. She ran a few steps and touched his arm.

  “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad or to offend you.” He turned and saw the tear at the side of her eye and wiped it away with his thumb.

  “Okay, Redhead in turn. Make me a coffee and look at them properly,” he told her. She pulled him back towards the kitchen and picked up the folder. The photos were genuine works of art. Enough color to tone down her hair but still see the red, the door gleaming as the centerpiece, and the flowers just making a frame. She was so entranced at each one of the dozen shots that she didn’t realize he had made the coffee and was handing her a mug in her own kitchen.

  He sat on a chair and asked. “Miller, which one is best?” She flipped through and told him the one with her hands on her hips and he laughed. “Spot on. If I sell that one and share the cash with you, will you give permission?” She sat herself down herself with a sudden thump.

  “Sell it? Who would buy it? If someone really did, you could keep the money.” He shook his head.

  “What world do you live in, Miller? You are the model and you would probably be hanging in some art gallery for people to stare at.” She stared at him in shock, and although her mouth opened and shut, nothing came out.”

  “Gallery?” she managed at last and he nodded.

  “I’m pretty sure the owner of New World Art would love that one and grab it before anyone else. She takes my stuff because she knows it will make her a nice fat fee.”

  “New World Art,” she repeated.

  “For heaven’s sake, stop repeating everything I say,” he pleaded. “How do you feel about hanging in a gallery?” She giggled.

  “By the neck?”

  “That as well if you don’t stop repeating things,” he answered with a grin. She sat down with the coffee mug and thought about it.

  “Okay. Give it a go. I don’t share your optimism though,” she laughed.