Page 8 of Flippin' Cowboy
“No way,” Winnie groaned.
The Evans were one of Montana’s oldest and wealthiest families. They’d grown rich from their copper mines over a century ago, when the big cities back east started wiring buildings and streets for newfangled electric lights and telephones.
More recently, Nick Evans had made a name for himself as a historic preservationist and outspoken critic of The Renovation Channel.
In its first season,Restoring Seattlehad been a frequent target for his ire. Newspapers and blog articles had widely reprinted his scathing remarks about Geoff’s design decisions on a Queen Anne Victorian restoration, catapulting Evans to online expert status.
Winnie had come under fire a few episodes later, after choosing to demolish the original termite and dry rot-riddled kitchen and butler’s pantry in a Gothic Revival house and replace them with a single large, open-plan kitchen her clients wanted. Evans had called her “one of those fake celebrity flippers butchering our country’s architectural heritage.”
Her burst of excitement and relief evaporated. She felt like Karla had just yanked the rug out from under her feet.
“Well, I guess that means our new show is doomed,” she said in a monotone. “There’s no chance in hell this guy will want to work withme.”
But Grandma Abigail only smiled serenely. “Leave it to me, dear.”
Karla nodded in agreement. “Don’t worry about a thing, Winnie. I intend to make Mr. Evans an offer he can’t refuse.”
∞∞∞
Snowberry Springs, Montana
Three weeks later
“So, what do you think?” Grandma Abigail asked eagerly as she and Winnie made their way down to the ground floor of the former Snowberry Springs Inn & Resort.
The wide wooden stairs, with their beautiful Victorian bannisters and carved newel post, were one of the few remaining original features in the building.
Unfortunately, each tread emitted alarming creaks and bounced slightly underfoot with each step Winnie took. She made a mental note to contact Brock’s friend Jason, who owned a carpentry business here in town, and ask him to evaluate the structural integrity of the staircase.
“Would you be able to complete the renovation before our first Vintage Railroad Festival in June?” Grandma continued, her breath puffing in white clouds in the gloom of the building’s decrepit interior. “I think that would be the perfect time for the inn’s grand reopening.”
Between college and working with Geoff at Snowberry & Schaefer Renovations, Winnie had spent the past nine years in Seattle’s mild coastal climate. She’d forgotten how cold Montana winters could be.
But the wintry beauty of her hometown had been a balm for her broken heart and bruised pride these past two weeks. The bright blue skies, breathtaking mountain views, and brilliant sunshine on the thick, sparkling carpet of snow were all in refreshingcontrast to the unending gray skies and persistent rain of a Pacific Northwest November.
And then there was her family, who had supported her with love and gentle comfort during the frantic week of activity following the wedding as she prepared to move home. She had ended her apartment lease in Seattle and moved all of her belongings into storage.
She and Geoff had also put all of their upcoming renovation commissions on hold while their lawyers negotiated a division of the company’s assets. Geoff had protested at Winnie’s insistence in shutting down their company, but honestly, how could he expect her to continue working with him like he and her former best friend hadn’t stabbed her in the back and then trash-talked her all over social media.
It was good to be home for Thanksgiving. And even better to have a project that would keep her busy and occupy her mind with thoughts that had absolutelynothingto do with Geoff, Melanie, the wedding disaster, or all of the nasty gossip currently making the rounds of the Web’s celebrity gossip sites.
“Grandma, I don’t know if your timeline is realistic,” Winnie said, opting for brutal honesty. “And I’m sure that Nick Evans will tell you the same thing, once he shows up.”
“Even though this will be your only project and you won’t be splitting your time with work elsewhere?” Grandma Abigail asked.
“Renovating during winter months can be tricky,” Winnie explained. “We’ll need to run heaters day and night to make sure that temperature-sensitive things like paint dry correctly. And getting materials shipped will depend on the weather and roadconditions. One blizzard could shoot our renovation schedule all to hell.”
The disappointment on her grandma’s face sent a pang through Winnie’s heart. She quickly added, “On the other hand, it might be easier to hire framers, carpenters, electricians, and plumbers than during the summer, when they’re in higher demand.”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought about tradespeople and contractors being cheaper and more available during the winter months!” Grandma Abigail exclaimed. She beamed at Winnie. “And if we can’t get anyone local, I’ll phone Grandpa Frank’s friend Rob Swanson over in Idaho. He owns Swanson Construction, you know. It’s the second-largest construction firm in the state. I’m sure he’ll be able to recommend tradespeople looking for winter work.”
Uh-oh, thought Winnie.Time to give her a reality check before she’s off and running.
“Speaking of money, I’m concerned about your renovation budget,” she continued ruthlessly. “This place needs a lot of work just to bring it up to code and make it habitable again, not to mention restoring it for historic charm. Whoever renovated and updated this building back in the 1960s tore out almost all the original features.”
Her grandmother’s face fell. “I noticed that,” she admitted. “Your grandfather and I met while we were protesting the city council’s plans to tear down almost all of the old buildings surrounding the town square, and replace them with a parking lot, fast food restaurants, and a strip mall.” Her lips thinned in remembered anger.
“No way,” Winnie said, shocked.
