Page 17 of To Have and to Scold

I nod, one eyebrow going high.

“You’re supposed to get all giddy over the clawfoot tub.” He lifts his baseball cap to shove a hand through his hair.

I try to smile. I really do.Ihave to be a team player.But I suspect it comes out more as a grimace.

My heels click loudly on the subfloor as I cross the room, leave the first bedroom, and travel down the hall to the next bedroom. It’s in much the same state as the first one.

Would it have been asking too much to have had the venue ready to go so I could focus on getting the rest of the summer booked, an already daunting process because no one waits this late in the season to book their wedding venue?

And yet, apparently, it was asking too much.

“Can I see mockups of the finishes?” I ask. “I’ve seen the projected prices for once this is up and running and, based on what you’re wanting to charge in rental fees, people will be expecting something high-end.”

He folds his arms across his chest, which only adds to the airy nerves I feel. Come on. Those muscles? They’re obviously all natural since he works in construction. Holden’s white-collar arms arenotlike that.

Surprise! I’ve made a new discovery. There’s something extra special about all-natural, blue-collar arms.

Who knew?

His smile slips from his face. “Oh, these guestrooms will be high-end. Don’t you worry about that,” he says.

“What’s your projected finish date?”

He offers an easy going,aw shucks, click of his tongue. “We have the guestroom carpet ready to go but we haven’t laid it yet. We’re waiting for our carpet layer to get back from out of town.”

“Projected finish date?” I repeat.

He sighs and scratches his head under his hat again. “We’ll be done when we’re done. But it will be before the first wedding.”

“Martha Dobbs’s daughter’s wedding.” A zip of fear runs through me. The mayor holds the keys to my future. This has to work. “Anyway, can I see the carpet? I’d hate for it to have anyblue undertones. We’ve got nice, cream vibes going on around here and it cannot clash.”

“The carpet’s on one of the company trucks.” He shoots out a tight breath. “I haven’t brought it over since, like I said, the carpet layer isn’t even here.”

“Do you have any samples of it lying around?” I cross my arms over my chest, mirroring his stance.

“Are you a designer or something?”

“No. But I work closely with designers to make sure the spaces are optimal. You wouldn’t believe how much a clashing aesthetic can really turn clients off.”

“Youusedto work with designers. That was your old job,” he corrects.

“Well—it’s part of the industry, Mr. Billingsley.” I’ve never called him that before. Not sure why I’m so formal now. It’s in stark contrast to how willy-nilly I was the other night. And somehow it does not seem to be time to use the name “Beck,” either. I can’t be all chummy with him right now. “I frequently had designers and venue owners asking me my opinions because I’m abreast of the latest trends.”

His gaze goes past me, and he mumbles, “Abreast of the latest…” before snapping his eyes back to me. “I appreciate your level of experience and expertise…” He pauses, raking his gaze over me. “…Ms. Cardon. I really do. We’re lucky to have you. But the design options? Those were decided this past winter. So, respectfully, I’m going to have to ask you to focus on your job and I’ll focus on mine…which is to renovate the mansion.”

I widen my stance. “My job involves ensuring this venture is a profitable one. It’s understood with a historical home like this there will have to be concessions made. But trust me, consulting with me on the designs is going to be good for us all.”

His jaw hardens. “I’m not able to add or change anything.”

“Who says?”

“The budget tells me I’m not.” He grunts a laugh. “The schedule really tells me I’m not.”

He’s got me there. I wince. “Maybe this can be brought up at the next staff meeting. I could write up a proposal—”

He turns and leaves the room.

Rude.

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