In hell, maybe?
“Hmmm… well, he’s moving into the first farmhouse on the property where you’re building. In fact, he should be doing some of that tonight. You can find him there. Also, I believe he takes most of his dates to the Hilton so maybe the bar there, not really sure.” I leaned forward and lowered my voice. One girl telling a secret to another. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t mention where you got that information. I’d lose my job for sure and he might fire you as well.”
“Oh, I won’t. He won’t fire me, though… there’s too much at stake.”
“Oh, really, why is that?” I was interested in what she knew.
“Well, he’s on such a tight time frame and all,” she explained. “There’s no one else in town who could pull this off but me. I’m calling in all my favors to get it done especially this time of year with the holidays coming.”
She was very sure of herself. What was the line about the bigger they are, the harder they fall? I decided to jerk her chain a bit.
“So, Ms. Dexter, since I’m in charge here, perhaps it would be a good idea if we got down to business and let me approve some plans,” I suggested.
“Oh, I see. Well, you’re welcomed to look at things, but I’m not supposed to let you actually decide on anything except… how did he put it… ‘fripperies?’”
I felt myself go cold. “How do you mean that exactly… just so I understand which part of the process I’m responsible for.”
“Dr. LaViere said he was to have the ultimate power of decision over all the construction details. I have the power of making decisions on his behalf on site and you are supposed to be consulted for the little things I’m guessing like drapes, wall colors, where to hang mirrors — that sort of mundane detail.”
“I see,” I said, forcing my teeth to stop grinding. “What did you call it… fripperies?”
“Yes, I think that’s the term he used. I don’t think he wanted to overwhelm you and I’m guessing he’s leaving most of the decision making up to whomever he eventually marries. So, I thought we’d keep the house as vanilla as possible and then whoever she is…” she giggled as her eyes glazed over in desire, “can put her own personal sense of style on the place.”
I nodded. “That makes total sense.”
“Now about the barns,” she continued and I wondered how someone so dumb had gotten this far in business. “I have some equine experience but I know that the appropriate facility is better designed if you know what kind of horses he’ll be keeping. I guess I should consult with Mr. McLean on that?”
“Mr. McLean? Oh, the man he bought the farm from. Is that what he told you?” I was setting the trip wire.
“Well, not in so many words, but he indicated that Mr. McLean would be responsible for the horses over the longer term so I assumed he would be the best person to ask.”
“Yes, I suppose you should do just that, Ms. Dexter,” I agreed and she sighed with satisfaction. I could see her already picking out an engagement ring and the heavy class ring I wore on my neck chain was burning a brand into the tender skin of my tummy. “Well, let’s get on with the decision making, shall we?” I encouraged her.
“Oh, of course. Now, let’s see. He requested a traditional Kentucky-style home on the exterior with a modern, more open concept look on the inside,” she began.
“Oh, nooo, no, no,” I jumped in quickly. “You must have misunderstood entirely. “I swear, he has so much on his plate that sometimes he says things almost backward. He wants a Kentucky-style house, for sure, but inside and out. He wants every room to be paneled in cherry with pocket doors between the rooms so they can be closed off for private conversations. He’s a businessman, you understand.”
She looked confused, but nodded and she paged through her notes again.
“And as for the exterior, he will want as few windows as possible. He hates the glare from the sun and loves dark shadows and deep, deep colors of interior paint. Nothing but plaid carpeting throughout. Two bedrooms, one bath. The kitchen should be smaller… hmmm… more like a kitchenette with huge cupboards that reach from ceiling to floor. Now, in the basement, he wants a cat room. This is to be absolutely the largest room in the house. The walls should be lined with carpeting so the little guys can use their claws to climb wherever they want. There should be all sorts of little ladders and platforms installed so they can jump around and have fun. He probably has fifty cats… did he tell you that?” I waited for her reaction.
“Oh, really? Are you sure? He said just about the opposite to me.” Even idiocy did not mar her beautiful features.
“You must have misunderstood him. You probably thought you were hearing what he didn’t want, when in fact he was telling you exactly what he does want.”
“I’m not sure about this,” she sounded very confused. “He was quite adamant.”
“Look, I’ve worked for Dr. LaViere for some time now. I think I’ve heard him talk about his dream house a hundred times. Are you really willing to risk his disapproval by giving him exactly what he doesn’t want and not include a single feature of what he does want?” I leaned even closer. “I leave it to you to decide.”
As her face went through a flurry of emotions, I settled back in my chair, my pencil tapping on the tabletop in a rhythm to distract her and make her even more uncomfortable and indecisive than she currently was.
“No, I completely believe you,” she said finally. “I just can’t believe I heard him so wrong.”
I patted her hand. “Well, you did mention how handsome he is,” I reminded her. “It could have distracted you from whether he was saying he wanted or didn’t want everything he was talking about.”
She nodded, biting her lip.
“Oh, one more thing,” I ventured, forcing my face to stay carefully blank. “He did tell you he’s going to be out of the country for the next three months and you’re not to start construction until he returns, right?”
“Oh, now, no… that’s wrong. He wants to move in three months from now. We even talked about the extra hours and workmen it would take. I’ve already got crews on assignment. In fact, we were going to start today after you and I had our meeting.” She sat up straight, her head shaking in denial.
“Oh, dear…” I murmured and clucked my tongue. “He’s done it again.”
“What’s that?” she asked, concerned.
“Well, promise not to let him know I said this?”
She nodded in a conspiratorial gesture.
“He’s dead broke.”