Page 29 of When in December

“You sure about that?” Aaron asked the same question I had asked myself every day when the renovation didn’t seem like it was coming together or getting easier, only getting more difficult.

I lifted my gaze to Aaron. He shoved his hands into his grimy sweatpants pockets. He’d been wearing the same thing, I was pretty sure, since I’d arrived the other day.

“Call it quits. It sure looks like you need to cut your losses at this point.”

Air stuck to my ribs. “Don’t worry about a thing, Mr. Hayes. It will all come together in time for your family to enjoy the holiday with you.”

“Huh.” He nodded, looking around the living room. The space between his eyebrows crinkled.

“Yes?” I asked.

“Wasn’t there supposed to be built-in shelves or something over there in that big bare spot?” He jerked his thumb toward the one still-very-empty, unpainted wall.

I couldn’t stop the glare. I managed to direct it down to the floor as he sauntered away.

Frank hesitated in the doorway where Aaron left the room. He dipped his chin toward Aaron before walking toward me, checking over his shoulder once. “This house is challenging us all, Ms. Owens. First, there was the delay in the kitchen appliances.”

Kitchen appliances where the delivery to this address was mysteriously canceled.

“And then the paint order coming in incorrectly.”

Another strange occurrence that didn’t feel so strange at all as I looked where Aaron Hayes had wandered off to, alongside the painters having no clue what I was talking about when I called to reschedule after they were supposed to come and didn’t show up, floor stain or no floor stain.

“Almost like someone doesn’t want you to be here.”

“And of course, the electricity going out a few days back with the last storm. Remember to take a deep breath.”

My throat felt like it was closing in on itself. My right hand drifted up to it, as if I could somehow clear it with a touch. If anything, it made me feel like I was being strangled. “Uh-huh. Thank you. Everything is going perfectly fine. We’ll make it work.”

He raised his salt-and-pepper eyebrows, but didn’t dare to contradict me. “It has been nice working with you, Poppy. I can see what you’re trying to do here, and if you can pull it off—which I have no doubt you can—I can’t wait to see the photos. It’s a great place. Lots of potential.”

It did have potential. I knew it from the start.

Yet the reminder was still nice.

“Thank you, Frank.”

I started to get my new game plan together when I was cut off by the ring of my phone. I stared at the name lighting up the screen before I could no longer put it off. Pressing the phone to my ear, I braced myself.

“Poppy?” A hint of question tainted Michelle’s voice as I shuffled away from everyone into the mudroom. Though the house was heated, I crossed my one arm over my center to fend off the chill creeping in.

“Yes. Hello, Michelle.”

“Hi there. How are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m great. Thanks for asking.”

“Are you sure?”

There was no doubt that she already knew how badly I was screwing up.

I tried to correct it. “I knew from day one that this project would be a little more intensive than previously thought withthe amount of renovations planned before I came in. There have been some product delays and, um, mis-scheduling as well.”

“I got an email from Ms. Hayes-Preston about the extra challenges this project is presenting. I have had nothing but confidence in you,” said Michelle.

“Thank you.”

“But I need to ask you right now.” There was a stagnant pause. “Are you capable of completing this job?”

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