He steps back and looks down at me with a frown, obviously taking my comment the wrong way.
“Two tweenies judging me, I can’t wait.” This time I make my sarcasm apparent.
“You’ll be fine. They’re just kids. You've raised two of your own. What are you worried about?”
I say nothing, mainly because I don't want him to know that the nearly thirteen-year-old girls I've come across in my time are far from kids. Who am I to shatter his illusions regarding his baby girl?
“Boys are very different to girls, Gabe, especially at that age.”
He kisses the top of my head. “Ren?”
“What?”
“She’s gonna love her bedroom, she’s gonna love that you did that for her, you’re gonna be good.”
Before I can say any more, my phone rings from inside the house, and he releases me to go and answer it.
It rings off but rings again instantly. I answer without even looking at the caller ID.
“Hello.”
“Hey, Lauren. It’s Karen McAlister. How are you?”
My stomach does a backflip, and my heart rate picks up as I close my eyes and hope that this call iseverythingI hope it is.
“I’m good. How can I help you?”
“Sorry for calling you on a Sunday, but I only had your old number, and it’s taken me a few days to find this new one on your website.”
“No worries,” I tell her.
“So, we’ve just purchased a place up at Red Hill, and I was wondering how you were fixed to work your magic and fix up the interior for us?”
I fist pump the air. Karen’s an old client I’ve worked for on a number of projects. Home’s her and her husband purchased in Toorak and Brighton, and a couple of apartments in the city.
“How soon do you need the work carried out?” I ask, pretending I’m going to have to consider the job.
“We’d love to be able to host Christmas there this year. Sounds a long time, but the place needs a lot of work. It’s not been touched since the seventies.”
“How many rooms?”
“Six bedrooms, all with ensuites, kitchen, butler’s pantry, laundry, dining, four living, a couple of powder rooms, entryway, plus games, and a separate cinema room. We’d like you to design for all of them.”
“I can do that. When can I take a look?”
“I can send you the link to have a look through online, and I can meet you up there tomorrow afternoon if you’re free?”
“Let me just check my diary.” I cringe as I lie through my teeth. I don’t want to ask Gabe for a lift while she’s on the phone, but I also don’t want to assume he’ll be free to take me. Fuck it, I’ll hire a car if I have to.
Switching back to bullshit mode, I lick my lips and straighten my back.
“I can do two o’clock?”
“That’ll be perfect. I’ll text you the address along with the link.”
“Too easy,” I reply.
“Look forward to seeing you, Lauren. Thanks, and sorry again.”