Page 11 of Save the Drama for your Mama
We went back in the house as the doorbell rang.
Romeo went nuts again, barking at the door.
As Chad stuck his phone on the charger, I swung the door open and froze, sure that I was seeing things.
It was that wackadoodle from the bookstore.
I blinked.
She blinked.
I blinked again.
Romeo sniffed her leg.
“Did you follow me here?” I asked suspiciously.
“Tempting, but hardly,” she said. “They hired me as a consultant on the restoration. Turns out, I’m an expert with historic properties. Brains and beauty, am I right? Go figure.”
This woman, with her penchant for sarcasm and ridiculous opinions, was going to be overseeing the restoration of my family’s estate?
Not in this lifetime.
“This is obviously a mistake,” I said.
“What are you saying?” she asked. “Like maybe I have the wrong house?”
I nodded. “Exactly. You have the wrong—”
She held up her hand. “Hold up, Heathcliff. I’ve been here three times already.”
“There she is!” Chad said. “Come in, Melody.”
I was expected to spend the entire summer with her banging around my family home?
Not. Going. To. Happen.
“This is my brother, Cooper,” Chad said.
“We’ve met,” we both spat out at the same time.
“I don’t understand what’s going on here,” I said. “We don’t need someone to add a rooftop balustrade, elaborate candelabras, and velvet-covered furniture. I’m all for restoring this place, but I want it to feel like a home, not a movie set for Keira Knightley. Wrong era. Sorry.”
Melody nodded. “You seem to know a lot about the Regency era for someone who detests it.”
“I know enough to realize that there’s a fine line between preserving history and playing Regency Barbie with our home.”
“Perhaps you’d prefer to add some fluorescent lights and minimalist designs, then? How about a fresh coat of dull gray paint on the walls?”
I smirked. “Dull gray sounds perfect. It will match my new hair growth that, oddly enough, started coming in right during our conversation in the bookstore. And what do you know about the history of this house, anyway?”
She winced. “The salt and pepper look could work for you, but ooh, you got me there. I have no clue about Spanish colonial revival homes.”
“Not a surprise considering your obsession with—”
“And I have never heard of John D. Spreckels and Richard Requa, two men who played a significant role in shaping the architectural landscape of this region, or that homes like yours are known for twisted, spiral columns, carved front doors, and decorative tile trims”—she gestured to those designs on our house as she spoke. “I didn’t even notice the common low-pitched red-tile roof or the white stucco walls or the prominent arched entrance above my head. The nerve of me!”
I opened my mouth to reply and—
