Page 18 of To Have and to Scold

“And over here, we have the kitchen,” he says, his voice echoing in the vast space. “I think you’re going to like it,” he calls. “I’m pretty proud of it, if I do say so myself.”

Alrighty then. I have to rush to catch up with him. I guess I’m not going to see the rest of the guestrooms on this floor?

I cross the grand entry, through the empty seating area, and under another arched walkway into the kitchen.

“Spanish tile backsplash, dichromatic tiles, soapstone granite.” He raps his knuckles on the countertop. “Plus, there’s a huge butler’s pantry back there so the caterers can have room to make a big mess and hide it away.”

“Very nice,” I say, relief settling in my stomach. At least the kitchen’s close to being done.

Beck and his crew have managed to keep the original tone of the room by leaving up the old range hood, a Hampton brick cone that reaches the ceiling. The ceiling itself is covered in silver Spanish tiles that also look to be original.

It’s impressive…very fine handiwork.

He grunts and I can’t possibly begin to know how to interpret it.

“Sorry,” he says with a wince. “But the bathroom that will be available to guests of the outdoor weddings isn’t quite finished yet.”

“No worries. I’d still like to see it.”

He frowns and then leads me down a small hallway. At the end of it, a large door with many small panes of glass showcases theback patio, as well as the beach and ocean beyond. The seafoam green of the water. The warm tones of the sand.

It is beautiful.

He gestures to the door nearest the back entrance and when I open it, my inhale is sharp. “This is even worse than the ensuites!” The guts of the room—aged and darkened wooden studs, copper wiring and pipes going every which way—are the stuff of horror novels.

His sigh makes me almost feel sorry for him, and before he can respond, I hold up a palm. “Do you actually think this will be done on time?” I wince. Sometimes my directness is a little much. “I mean, I’m impressed with what you’ve gotten done so far with the house as a whole.” I try to offer a small laugh—a show of solidarity—but it probably comes out as more of a horrified guffaw. “But our first wedding is in four weeks. I—”

“We’ll get it done. I’ve done bathrooms before in a lot faster than four weeks.”

“It’s not just the bathroom. It’s the flooring, painting, and the décor. There’s so much to be decided and done.”

He scowls. “Like I said, you worry about your job, and I’ll worry about mine.”

“I can’t do my job until you’re done with yours!” I shoot back.

“Your job is to work with the brides and grooms and their families and trust that I’ll have everything done and ready on time. That’s it.”

“There aren’t nearly enough bookings, Mr. Billingsley. A full docket? One where the mayor might have hope of recouping her costs, would mean an average of two weddings a week, minimum. That means we need at least forty weddings booked for this summer alone. Want to know how many we’re at? Thirty-four, and we’re not going to get many more. No one waits until April to book their summer wedding venue.” My feet suddenly ache, all the bones of my arches taking on the weightof the task in front of me. “I’m not used to this. I’m not used to having every wedding I’m working with needing to share just the one space.” Panic sears my gut. “I’m going to have to try to sell this space without photos, without even any confidence we can even meet the construction deadlines. And with inspections and what not, you’re really pushing it.”

A muscle beats in his jaw. “Well, Ms. Cardon. Looks like you’re going to have to trust me. And by the way, welcome to the world of construction.” His arms go wide and he twists his torso to take in the room. “There are always delays. Especially if you have some party planner coming in and acting like she’s the one in charge.”

Party planner? The way he spits out that pejorative chafes my hide. He might as well call Princess Catherine a baroness!

I place my hands on my hips. “If you expected someone to come in here and not care about theirwedding planner job, and just ‘yes sir, no sir’ all over the place, you are in for a surprise. Because that is not how I work. And I don’t think your company and staff even want that. You all want to help the mayor turn a profit on this venture? That’s what you’re going to get. And I don’t need you standing in my way.”

Chapter Seven

Beck

Why I let myself get all concerned and poetic about Dallas Olivia Cardon is beyond me.

I shouldn’t have even taken the bait and shown her the beach and the sea turtle nest at all. Because that hour is still messing with my head, especially now that she’s completely changed her tune towards me.

It’s good that she’s not the fun person I thought she was. We’re working together and I can’t be all in my head that we’d had such a nice moment together and now we’re forcing ourselves to be polite. It’s better that we’re borderline enemies now.

The problem with it is, something weird came up when she was so disapproving of the mansion. I got all…I don’t know…territorial. Protective of the place.

Renovating the mansion is a dream come true for me. The chance to strip it down and build it back up the way it should be was too much of a pull to ignore.

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