“Then I guess I’d better feed that dog and go. She’s probably going to fire me from the Brantley Building project. Or tell me she’s hired someone else who I’ll have to answer to.”
“Darling, I’m sure that is not true. Run on.” Annelle bent to pet Eller again. “I’ll take care of feeding this precious girl.”
Miss Caroline opened the door and ushered Lucy into the living room.
“It was so good of you to come over, Lucy. Please sit.” She gestured to the velvet sofa in front of the fireplace, which was ablaze.
Miss Caroline sat beside her. “I know it’s a little warm for a fire, but I can’t resist if there is the least bit of snap in the air.”
“It’s lovely,” Lucy said and let her eyes wander to the mantle. “A mantle that wonderful deserves to have a fire as often as possible.” She paused, reluctant to show off, but if Miss Caroline was going to fire her, she ought to know what she was losing. “American Victorian Renaissance Revival. Black walnut. I would put it original to the house.”
Miss Caroline smiled. “I knew there was a reason I wanted you for the Brantley Building.” So maybe she wasn’t going to fire her. “But no, it isn’t original. It should have been. Originally there was a marble monstrosity that was a hundred years too early. I couldn’t take the naked nymphs.”
“Good call,” Lucy said.
“Would you like coffee?”
She would have loved coffee but not as much as she wanted to get this chitchat over with and find out why she was here.
“None for me, but you go ahead.”
“It’s just as well,” Miss Caroline said. “We can leave Evelyn to her cheese straws and crab salad. She’s a much bigger snob about bridge club food than I am.”
Lucy laughed. “I don’t think anyone could rightfully accuse either one of you of being a snob. Discerning, yes; snob, never.”
“I like how you think.” Miss Caroline let her eyes wander to the huge oil portrait over the fireplace of the rosy-cheeked blond toddler. He was clutching a ball and the blue smocked bubble suit he wore was classic, just like this house and everything in it. “He was a beautiful baby, wasn’t he?”
“Yes,” Lucy agreed. And he’s a beautiful man. And a beautiful kisser. Wait. No. Stop. He is the man who left his dog on your porch without asking you!
“Brantley is the reason I called you over.” Miss Caroline smiled like she was giving away the keys to the kingdom.
What now? “I have spoken with Brantley,” Lucy said hesitatingly. “He told me we would be working together on the Brantley Building.”
“Oh, yes!” This woman was in hog heaven. “I so hoped he would do it. I think you two will do a wonderful job.”
“We will do our best,” Lucy said. At least she would. Who knew about golden boy?
“When Brantley returns, the mayor is going to call a press conference to announce our plans. There will be someone there from the State Historic Commission. I’d like you to be there.”
“Of course.” For this she had to come to the house?
“But that’s not what I needed to talk to you about.”
Lucy inclined her head toward the older woman. How much longer was she going to have to wait?
“Brantley is moving into my carriage house. I know you are familiar with it from when Tolly lived there.”
“Oh, yes. I was there many times.”
“Brantley is in San Francisco—” She paused. “Did you know he was in San Francisco?”
“Yes, ma’am.” And his dog is with me.
“The carriage house needs a coat of paint and—well, just a little care. Is there any way possible that you could put it together for me? By Friday?”
Hell and double hell! Friday? And for Brantley? She might throw up.
“Yes, ma’am. I will make it my priority.” Because, really, what else could she say?
“His furniture is scheduled to arrive this afternoon. He doesn’t have a great deal—a lovely Eastlake bed, a leather chair and ottoman, a few odd tables, an antique draftsman’s table. Brantley still likes to draw by hand sometimes. Of course, there is that monster television that will have to be worked around.”
“What did you have in mind?” Lucy asked. And wouldn’t it be better to wait and let him choose what he wants?
As if she had read Lucy’s mind, Miss Caroline said, “I know it seems odd that I want this done while he’s gone without consulting him, but if we wait on him he will sleep in the first place he puts the bed. He won’t do anything. I want him to be comfortable. I want his surroundings to be pleasing.”
“I see,” Lucy said and she did. Miss Caroline wanted him to stay. Good luck with that. Didn’t she know he was a runner?
“You can take some pieces from this house. Goodness knows there is too much here. And we can buy whatever is necessary. But I want to put this in your control. If I choose it will be to my liking. I want Brantley to like it.”
“I’m not sure—” she began.
“You’ve known my grandson for a long time. And you know how young people like to live. For instance, I cannot abide a television in the living room.” She gestured to the room around her. “But I imagine Brantley would like to be able to use his computer, watch television, and be comfortable all in one room.”
Lucy nodded.
Miss Caroline rose. “Then why don’t you come back and take a look at his furniture this afternoon? And you can go from there.” She reached into her pocket, brought out a key, and handed it to Lucy. “Take this so you can come and go as you please.”
“Just call me when it arrives and I’ll come over,” Lucy said as she got to her feet.
“Splendid! I trust you implicitly.”
As they made their way to the door, an apricot cat scuttled from beneath a chair and rubbed up against Miss Caroline’s ankle. She could have weighed no more than five pounds but she wasn’t skinny. Her frame was small and her meow was so quiet it was almost a squeak.
Monster cat?
Aghast, Lucy said, “Is that your cat?”
“Well, yes. Princess.”
“Your only cat? You don’t have another one?”
Miss Caroline shook her head. “She’s a timid little thing but Evelyn and I love her.”
Monster cat, indeed.
Chapter Eight
Pam, who worked part time at the shop, met Lucy at the door when she returned.
“Annelle called and said for me to bring these fabric samples to Sophie Anne McGowan’s house as soon as you get back. Sophie Anne didn’t like any of the ones Annelle took over.”
“Better you than me,” Lucy said. Sophie Anne was one of those clients who always had a project going and could not be pleased.
Lucy was feeling that right now. No. Not true. Throttling Brantley Kincaid would please her; it would please her to no end. Eller trotted up and wagged her puff ball of a tail.
“I am going to kill him,” Lucy said to the dog. “What I ought to do is take you over there and dump you on Miss Caroline. You’d like it there. Go get in your bed or I will.”
Eller did not go get in her bed.
“You’re just like him. You do what you want. Are you a runner?” The dog jumped onto the rose colored watered silk chaise lounge and lay down. Lucy started to shoo her off but changed her mind. “Yeah, you just stay there and shed all over it. I’ll put that in his bedroom. Miss Caroline gave me free reign.”
That gave her an idea. She pulled paint chips and fabric samples, took them to the counter, and began to put together palettes. Lilac and lemon for the living room. Peach and cream for the bathroom. Shades of pink for his bedroom. The window treatments would be floral. That was given.