Page 9 of When in December

I reread the last email on my phone that had been forwarded to me from Michelle and another designer who was first going to take over the assignment; the homeowner said that she should be there, but could be running late. If she was, I could use the key left for Home Haven.

Fishing through my bag for the key, I unlocked the side door before I pushed my way inside. “Hello?”

There was no reply, but I didn’t want to startle her if she was here somewhere and didn’t hear me.

“It’s Poppy from Home Haven. I’m here for our initial home consultation.”

I pressed the phone to my ear, letting it ring until it went to voice mail.

“Hi, Ms. …” Oh God, I was suddenly blanking on this client’s name. Was it Robinson? Reynolds? “Sarah …”

I remembered that much.

“This is Poppy Owens. I’m currently at the property. I let myself in, using the key you sent for Home Haven. I know you were unsure if you would make it today, but I thought I wouldcheck in to see if you are on your way to configure plans for the space going forward. If you could give me a call back, that would be great. I’m looking forward to working on this project with you. Yes. Thanks—thank you! Bye.”

I sounded way too chipper. I needed to get better on the phone.

Unprofessional,I chastised myself.

This was good though. I could take this time to get a picture of the place on my own. Let the house—cottage? Cabin? Definitely cabin. Let the cabin speak to me.

Shrugging my bag off my shoulder, I toed off my boots in the small mudroom, leaving me in my knit socks. The floor was cold. The heat must not have been on or maybe not working as I walked inside the cleared-out kitchen, already installed with new cabinets. They looked amazing, though the handles weren’t attached, and the appliances hadn’t been put in yet.

I made a note.

Exposed beams lined the living room and extended into the kitchen, creating a large yet intimate space. Michelle, or whoever had started the renovations this summer—taking down a wall and addeding French doors that led to the outside patio, complete with a fireplace—had done an amazing job already, creating the bones of this place for me.

I could see thepotential.

I could see the greenery to decorate around the old-fashioned brick fireplace that still had its original chips along the edges. Tapered candles and a tree in the corner for presents to be under.

Traditional yet elegant. Comfortable, yet with a creamy contemporary edge that Home Haven readers could replicate.

I bit my lip to contain my smile as it all started to come together. Kids would be running around the cozy space with the wide windows overlooking the acreage out back.

The walls needed to be painted … green. Definitely the darker forest green.

My previous ideas were added to and thrown out the window. They wanted a classic, elegant, yet family-friendly Christmas aesthetic while also creating a sustainable living home for year-round use.

They were going to get it and more.

The cracked flooring creaked in front of me as I finished jotting down the last of my thoughts, not making it to punctuation.

A deep voice snarled from across the room, “Who the hell are you?”

I might’ve screamed.

three

. . .

Aaron

The worst intruderI’d ever laid my eyes on was screaming.

I raised my eyebrows at the strange woman with strawberry-blonde curls twisting at her temples. She covered her parted lips with the palms of her hands. She dropped a pink plastic stylus on the floor.

“Oh my God,” she breathed.

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