To Build a Home

18 | Old Flames

"Didn't they do an amazing job?" she asked as we walked through it. "That's why we hired them to redo our laundry room. They're the best." She called for Bill again and then excused herself.

I immediately turned to Darren. "Why didn't you tell me we were going to Amelia Gross's house?" I whispered.

"I think it's Brenner now," was all he said.

I walked away and pretended to admire the backsplash, which was a mosaic of shades of green. Amelia reappeared with Bill. He was tall, with gray flecks in his hair and beard. He looked about ten years older than her. "This is my husband. He doesn't think we need to do anything to the laundry room, but that's because he's not the one who does the laundry."

We introduced ourselves and then sat down at the kitchen table. Darren pulled out a floor plan and proposal. There was an itemized list of materials and he walked us through the cost of each, occasionally pausing so we could review it. Amelia requested forest-green paneling along all four walls of the laundry room with built-in storage and hooks along the opposing wall of the machines. The inside of the door that led to the backyard also needed to be painted green. There was a budget of one thousand dollars for artwork––she wanted a Pennsylvania country theme with frames of all shapes and sizes to cover the white walls from where the panels ended up to the ceilings.

"Just because it's a laundry room doesn't mean it has to be ugly or boring," she said. Her husband rolled his eyes and signed a check for the deposit.

"I don't think we're going to be able to help with the artwork," Darren said. "Mrs. Baker usually helped with that sort of thing. She had a great eye and believe me, you don't want me to do it."

"It's true. I've seen his house." Everyone laughed except Darren. He glared at me.

"Aren't you an artist? You did photography." Amelia asked me.

"Yes," I said hesitantly. "But I specialize in paintings, not prints."

"I trust you," she said. "Whatever you think."

"I actually saw a really charming antique store on the way here. I'm sure I can find you some pieces."

Amelia was thrilled and Darren tried to hide how annoyed he was that I had spoken by concentrating on the paperwork. Once everyone was in agreement, the adjustments noted and the contract signed, Bill rushed off to another end of the house. Amelia offered us coffee, but we politely refused. Darren said we had a few more stops to make. She walked us to the door, her heels click-clacking across the wood floor.

"I feel so lucky to have a real artist picking out my artwork. It's going to be too fancy to do laundry in there." She opened the door and led us onto the porch. "I guess that's the point." She winked.

"I'll do my best to make it homey," I said.

"Hey, Ryan, before you go. Do you mind if I ask you? Are you single?" She had a devious look on her face. "The really cute guy who does my hair recently ended things with his boyfriend and I'd love to set you up. If you're staying in town and all."

Darren walked away and hopped into the truck. I thanked her for the offer, but said it wasn't the right time. She told me to tell her when it was because she knew a handful of guys I might be interested in, which I doubted. We drove away and Amelia waved from the porch, her charm bracelets swinging like windchimes.

"What a bitch!" I said. Darren ignored me and focused on the road. "I know she's a customer, but she has some nerve. To offer to set me up after outing me in high school."

"She didn't out you."

"Oh, now you have something to say."

"You shouldn't have said anything!"