Page 17 of Fauxmance in the City

“The dog’s here.”

“I thought Gillian and Max were picking him up,” I say.

Just then, my phone rings. It’s Patrick.

“Gillian’s stuck in traffic on the expressway on the way to the airport,” he says in a rush. “Her assistant just messaged me to keep an eye out for the dog. It’s being delivered momentarily.”

“It’s here,” I tell him. “I’ll take care of it.”

I stride out of the front door. A skinny kid with a Mets hat slides the side door of a navy van open. A silver greyhound jumps out. It leaps forward and pummels me to the ground, sending my phone flying to the sidewalk.

I laugh and gently push the mongrel off, but my arms become tangled with his hind legs, and his front paws bat at my face. I roll to the side, only to be attacked again. The dog’s tongue is on my cheek and ear. I’m literally being smothered by love.

“Sit,” I yell.

He does sit—on me, his butt too close to my face for comfort.

The kid in the Mets hat pulls him off me by the collar. As soon as I scramble to my feet, the dog bounds toward me again. I screech and race to the front door, the kid chasing the dog behind me. Sam is halfway up the staircase in the foyer, watching the events unfold through the open door. The kid leads the dog up the stoop and into the hall.

“Let’s put him in the back for now.” The dog nuzzles my leg, and I pet his soft head. Out on the patio, he bounds down the stairs into the manicured garden, happily sniffing his way around.

The kid shoves a clipboard at me. “Sign here and here.” He dumps a small bag of dog food at my feet before leaving.

“That’s not a dog; that’s a lawsuit.” Sam warily peers out the kitchen window as the dog settles in a warm patch of sun.

“He’s sweet,” I say.

Sam purposely kisses me on my sore cheek, and I hope it’s the side that got a face full of ass.

Leaving Sam in the kitchen, I get to work making sure the décor is placed correctly in the living area and formal dining room. I’ve left the bedrooms untouched since they’ll only be used as sleeping quarters. I wanted to sleep in my apartment and return early tomorrow for shooting, but Gillian said no. Sam’s been flexible about everything, and I’m grateful for that.

It’s a treat adding decorative touches to such a beautiful space. Still, I doubt any of this will help Max recover his memory. Nonetheless, I’ve done what Gillian and Charles asked. It’s a high-end but cozy home for Max.

I changed out throws, rugs, vases, candles, accent pillows, and added several bright art pieces to the white walls. There’s a plush sitting area in front of the fireplace and a formal sitting one next to the tall windows along the front wall.

In front of the fireplace, there’s a McKenna white linen sofa with silver nailhead trim. Two silver-gray Louis XIV armchairs bookend the Amici square coffee table. The cool tones of the furniture pieces are a beautiful contrast with the warm cherrywood flooring in the long room. A wool-and-silk paisley rug in blue and white brings it together under the white coffee table.

The formal sitting area is framed by long, charcoal-gray velvet curtains that pool on the floor. On the wall behind the sitting room is blush-pink damask acrylic wallpaper. The set designer from Good Day wanted more color on the walls, and I suggested the acrylic wallpaper. The crew put it up last week. I love acrylic wallpaper. It goes on easily, and it can be changed out on a whim without damaging the wall. As a final touch, I’ve arranged fresh white and blue hydrangeas in glass vases throughout the room.

I take several pictures, then send them off to Patrick.

He quickly replies.

Perfect. Let’s hope the shoot is as effortless and beautiful.

Ye of little faith, I respond.

Thanks to you, faith is all I got. Now work your magic for the rest of the weekend.

Abracadabra, I reply.

That better not be my job disappearing!

Ignoring his last text, I slide the phone into my pocket.

“You’re an artiste.” Sam, who had gone back to the car for the luggage, enters the room, a black rolling suitcase in his hand. “You don’t need the rest of it. You could focus on interior design and you’d be as successful.”

It’s not the first time he’s said this, but it doesn’t work that way. I’ve built my brand at Simply Chic around cooking, entertaining, and organizing in addition to interior design.

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