Page 79 of Idle

After a brief pause, during which I presume they’ll splice in clips from our completed rooms, Miss Antonia continues, “I toured both of these suites, and have to admit I’m impressed with all of your work.”

I tuck my hair behind my ear. Our first real-time assessment of our work from a revered show host. I can’t wait to hear her review. I steal a glance at my boyfriend, and his face has lost all color. Poor guy. Can’t imagine why he’s so nervous, though. He did a fantastic job. Must be his overriding desire to get out of banking, and impending discussion with his parents about his new television show.

In front of us, the host turns to the other team. “I really loved the colors you selected. The blues are an excellent choice to relax, and your bedroom invited me in from the start. Your bed beckoned, and the divan was a great touch.”

Bo smirks. “Thank you, Miss Antonia.”

Take all the credit much?

“I adored the transformation to the bathroom, starting with the double doors and the chandelier you selected. It felt to me like a getaway from the rest of the apartment in the most gorgeous way.”

She smiles at the cowboy carpenter, and a hint of dread enters my being. Was this rigged from the start? Was the network looking for a Southern couple to do the next show?Stop. No. I have to be overthinking this. Besides, Miss Antonia hasn’t given her thoughts about our rooms yet.

The host adds, “However, to me, the juxtaposition of Old Hollywood glam with the rest of the apartment was a bit jarring. But, overall, very well done.”

She turns to us. Here goes. “I thought your choices were right on point with the vibe of the rest of the apartment. The headboard, while not without its flaws, was a masterpiece and deserved to be the focal point of the bedroom. I liked the black paint you put on it, although some might call that blasphemy.”

Jesse’s eyes dart to me. We knew this was a risk, but the flaws would’ve been more pronounced with the stain, I’m sure of it.

“Your bathroom was nice as well. I loved your tile choices, although by having relocated the laundry room into the back corner, you weren’t able to include a separate room for the toilet, which was a pity. I also felt the rooms lacked a sense of cohesion to themselves—like you were putting expected pieces into the bed and bath, but didn’t pull them together. Overall, though, I liked your design very much and think it showcases your talents perfectly.”

When she finishes speaking, a smile blooms on my face. She thought we did a fantastic job, like I knew she would. So what if she and our competitors are both from the South. Us northern folks got it going on, too.

Miss Antonia turns to the judges. “But my assessment of these apartments isn’t what matters here. It’s your take on which of these two teams created and executed the best spaces that does.” She stares into the camera. “Allow me to re-introduce you to our judges.” She rattles off their names and bona fides, and they start their reactions to our spaces.

The first one compliments Bo and Mary Ellen on their perfect execution of the Old Hollywood theme. He notes it’s more feminine than he would like, but a great space. As for ours, he was impressed with my curtains and Jesse’s headboard, but felt the bathroom was an afterthought. I purse my lips.

The second one agrees with the first, expanding upon her love for the divan and the bench at the foot of the bed. She also notes their spa-like bathroom retreat was done to perfection. Turning to us, she gives kudos to Jesse for his headboard, although thinks it should’ve been stained rather than painted. She also didn’t care for my bathroom design. I bite the inside of my lip.

The final judge starts with our rooms first, applauding Jesse’s bed as well as my curtains as “inspired.” My chin raises. She criticizes flaws in his carving, though, but is more critical of what she called the “pedestrian” bathroom. She turns to Bo and Mary Ellen and says they did a good job but wished they’d chosen a more unique color combination.

Maybe we got this?

Then Miss Antonia holds up an index card. “I have the winning team’s name right here.” She pauses and the camera does a close-up on each one of us, then Quinn cues her to continue.

Before she opens her mouth again, my stomach does a flip and I grab Jesse’s hand, cameras be damned. He squeezes mine back.We had to have won.

“And the winners are,” she holds up the index card. “Bo and Mary Ellen!”

I blink several times, trying to understand what just happened. Reading the card five times, it sinks in that we lost.

Lost.

Lost.

As in did not win.

Came in second place.

Across from us, Bo pulls Mary Ellen into a bear hug, which almost makes me gag. I turn my body toward Jesse, who has disappointment written across his face. Maybe if he’d listened to me about carving only a rectangle of the headboard and upholstering the rest, we would’ve won?

I was hoping this would be my permanent ticket out of my parents’ house. And Jesse would get a much-needed new life.

Quinn interrupts my pity party. “That’s a wrap, folks. Congratulations, Bo and Mary Ellen! Well done. Jesse and Paige, you put up a valiant effort—thank you so much for your time.” She gives us quick hugs and walks over to the winners to lavish them with attention.

I turn to Jesse. The judges were critical of his headboard. The flaws in his carving. Lack of finesse with the design he chose. The paint used. They weren’t excited about the pieces I chose to include in the bedroom, either, especially noting that it was too much one-note. This axe falls heavily on Jesse, considering he created the furniture pieces and I only finished them when he was focusing on the carving.

We stand in silence next to each other, not touching, working through our loss. Quinn approaches. “Hey, great job you two. Please don’t be disappointed with the result. You should be proud of all you accomplished.”

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