“Yeah. And I’m thinking a totally modern kitchen—colored, laminated, stainless steel and glass, very streamlined.”
Mouth agape, she could only stare as Alaine’s brother—her much younger brother—wandered from the dining room into the barren kitchen. When he’d shown up—almost an hour late—she’d been surprised that someone as young as he appeared to be was already a licensed contractor. And when he’d handed over his credentials, the recent date on the license had confirmed her suspicions.
“Maybe I didn’t explain properly over the phone.” Meredith followed him into the kitchen. “I want this house restored not remodeled.”
“Same diff.” Antoine waved his hand over his shoulder and continued on into the utility room. “Hey, that den is on the other side of this wall isn’t it?” He knocked on the back wall. “We could knock this wall out and put in a kickin’ wet bar.”
This walk-through couldn’t end soon enough. What had Alaine been thinking? If she’d meant to set Meredith up with Antoine romantically, she’d overlooked the fact that Meredith was a good ten to twelve years older than this kid. If she thought Meredith would like Antoine’s aesthetic, she’d been sorely mistaken.
She leaned heavily against the back door. “You know, Antoine, what I’m really looking for is someone who can come in and restore the house and keep the historical integrity while bringing the utilities and features, like kitchen and bathrooms, up to date.”
The wall-knocking stopped, and he stuck his head out of the utility room. “Really? Most folks I talk to want everything modern these days.”
“Well, call me old-fashioned, but I bought a craftsman-style house because I love the craftsman style.”
“Dude. You should have told me. I really don’t do old stuff.”
“I guess there’s no reason for me to waste more of your time, then, Antoine. I’ll walk you out.” Meredith waved him toward the front of the house.
“Yep. You’re probably right.” He preceded her to the front door. “But you really should think about that wet bar idea. It would be sweet.”
“I wouldn’t have any use for a wet bar.” Besides, Ward had suggested taking away half of the space. And Ward knew an architect who could draw up plans before the end of the week so that he could get started soon and have it finished before Anne and George returned from England at the end of March.
Antoine grabbed the front door’s handle but turned before opening it. “So, wanna go out sometime?”
Meredith cleared her throat to mask a chuckle. “While I’m flattered by the offer, I...” Was she really going to turn down an offer for a date? Yes. Yes she was. “I’m seeing someone.”
“Cool.”
She should be indignant at the relief that showed in his dark eyes, but she couldn’t quite conjure it. “Bye.”
“Later, dude.” He loped down the porch steps and sidewalk to his monster-sized luxury SUV, which dug trenches in the driveway and sprayed gravel everywhere when he gunned the engine backing out.
High-pitched yapping from behind the house caught her attention. She hurried through and out onto the back porch. The fuzzball stood with his forepaws on the trunk of one of the massive oaks, barking his head off at a tabby cat.
Meredith put her fingers to the corners of her mouth and whistled. The puppy—who really needed a name if she was going to keep him any longer—whipped around. Overjoyed to see her, he broke out into his lumbering puppy run, tripping over his too-big feet a couple of times before he reached her.
She brushed off a few dead leaves and scooped him up, holding him low enough that his tongue couldn’t reach her face. So he concentrated his kisses on her hands instead.
“Come on, li’l booger. Let’s drop you off at home so I can get back to work.”
Since the afternoon had turned out somewhat pleasant, Meredith decided she could take the risk of leaving the puppy outside in the small fenced area beyond the swimming pool Anne figured had been set up as a dog run by previous residents.
She put him in it then ran inside to get the kennel she’d borrowed from her parents, the bottom padded with the old towels he’d been sleeping on, along with his water dish.
Anne’s cell phone went straight to voicemail—must be with a client—so Meredith left her cousin a message to check on the dog if she wasn’t home when Anne got there. She pulled out of the driveway headed north, toward downtown.
Corie was just clearing her desk when Meredith hurried in.
“Hey. Everyone’s been looking for you.” Corie handed her several sticky notes with messages.
Meredith flipped through them quickly. “I already talked to most of them on the way back here. I’ll call this one back tomorrow.” She wadded the unnecessary messages and handed them to Corie to throw away. “Any deliveries come while I was out?”
Corie shook her head. “I called them several times. They said the linens were on the truck to be delivered today.” The assistant put her satchel down in her chair. “Need me to stay and help out with anything so you’re not here all night?”
“No. I’ve got that meeting in”—Meredith glanced at her watch—“two hours. And then I’m out of here.”
“Want me to go pick up something for you to eat?”
“Won’t be necessary.”
Meredith whirled around at Major’s voice. He carried a tray with several dome-covered dishes, a pitcher of tea, and a glass full of ice.
Warm gooiness—like a chocolate chip cookie straight from the oven—stuck to Meredith’s insides. “Is that for me?”
“Who else?” He nodded toward her door. “Unless you don’t want it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Meredith stepped out of his way and motioned him into her office.
“I remembered you said you had a late meeting tonight, and I figured you might appreciate not having to reheat cold leftovers.” Major slid the tray onto her table and began putting out a place-setting, complete with cloth napkin and placemat.
“I guess you’re taken care of, then.” Corie joined Meredith in the doorway. “Here’s all the stuff you’ll need for the meeting.”
“Thanks.” She took the stack of folders. “Have a good night.”
Corie’s gaze cut toward Major; then she grinned at Meredith. “You, too.”
Instead of correcting her assistant’s erroneous conclusion, Meredith bade her farewell and carried the thick stack of folders to the table.
“You look like you’ve gotten some sun.” Meredith’s voice just over his shoulder startled Major, making him clank the plate cover against the ceramic.
Embarrassment kept him from looking up at her; instead, he concentrated on setting the dishes out just so. “Yeah. Alaine suggested I go to a tanning salon and get a little more color so they don’t have to use so much makeup on me tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Meredith picked up one of the folders she’d just put down. “So, that starts tomorrow, huh?”
“Mmm.” Major was so not ready to get in front of the camera again. How had he ever agreed to do this? Oh, yeah, that’s right. He hadn’t. He’d been told he’d agreed to do this.
“Do you know what you’re going to cook yet?” Meredith perched on the edge of a chair across the table.
“Alaine suggested starting off with a kitchen basics lesson—talking about different techniques, different utensils that most people will be using at home.” He swallowed hard. “We’re going to be doing it at my condo.”
Meredith’s head rocked back slightly, and her eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
“Something about not wanting to intimidate the viewers by showing me only in a professional kitchen.” Of course, once they saw his kitchen at home, they’d kick him off as a fraud. No professional chef had anything at home as laughable as what he had. “Then it’ll mostly be based on viewers’ suggestions and questions as to what I cook each week.”
“Sounds like a good idea.” Meredith fingered the edge of the folder her arm rested atop. “How is this going to affect your work schedule? I heard the filming is pretty much going to eat up your whole day on Tuesdays.”