It’s the last day of the Pink Bean renovations and I had forgotten all about final-day melancholy. This was a pretty quick, not very invasive job. Nevertheless, now that the work is almost done, and I have the satisfaction of casting my glance over the results of my hard graft, I’m overcome with a sense of sadness.
It was pleasant to work alongside Rocco. Although the boy doesn’t have any natural aptitude for this kind of work, his enthusiasm for his and Katherine’s coffee shop made him execute the tasks I set for him with unseen zeal. His partner Chris often dropped by and helped out as well and I’ve grown fond of the companionship that has developed between the three of us. It feels good to live my life among real people again, instead of rehashing old memories of people who are no longer here.
I’ve barely seen Katherine the past few days, which has helped with my mood. She might be a sight for sore eyes but, as long as I didn’t see her, I didn’t have to confront my ambivalence toward her. I do prefer it that way, in this transitional part of my life where I’m trying to be less of a hermit and more of everything I used to be.
But, today, probably because it’s the last day, Katherine’s here. She isn’t dressed for a building site. To me—and really, what do I know?—she looks more like she’s ready for an appointment with a client.
I’ve been going over the conversation I had with Jill about Katherine in my head for days now. When plastering walls, the mind tends to wander.
I’ve concluded that my gut reaction was the right one—it usually is. She may look all dolled up today, red lipstick and matching nails, and smell like a million bucks, there’s still something unseemly about her. Something I can’t get over.
Rocco can have a go at me about it for as long as he likes, and Jill can question my motives all she wants, but, at the end of the day, I believe I’m entitled to how I feel about Katherine. And I’d rather keep my distance than have another conversation with that woman.
“You’ve done a wonderful job, Hera,” Katherine says. She has walked up to me and stands so close her perfume wafts up into my nose.
“Thanks. It’s what I do, so.” I run a hand through my hair. It’s getting too long. I make a mental note to get out my clippers tonight after I’ve showered. After this job is totally done. And I have to start thinking about the next one.
“I was serious about you having a look at my kitchen.” Katherine looks me straight in the eye and smiles at me a little too broadly. “Can I call you some time?”
“Sure. Rocco has my number.” I’m pretty sure I won’t be picking up the phone.
She tilts her head and sends me a funny look. Is it a flirty one? I’ve no idea. I haven’t flirted with a woman in years. Any desire for that died along with Sam. And I certainly have no desire to be buttered up by some professional flirting from the likes of Katherine.
“You’ll come to the opening, won’t you?”
“Rocco wouldn’t speak to me for weeks if I failed to show up.”
“He adores you,” Katherine says, and something about it, maybe the way she says it, jars me to the point that I feel my limbs stiffen.
I shrug, hoping to end this conversation, this inane chit-chat. Before Katherine has the chance to open her mouth again, I point at the ceiling. “I have a couple of holes to fill up there before the painter can get to work.”
“Of course.”
I get back to it, positioning the ladder, and putting the tools I need within reach, but Katherine doesn’t move. I feel her stare on me.
Before I climb the ladder I try to give her a look which I hope conveys that I don’t appreciate being watched like that.
“I do admire a strong woman,” she says, and smiles with lips that are too red for this place. All the walls are still bright white, there’s dust everywhere, and I’m dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with a couple of holes running down the side, yet here Katherine stands, all smiles, in impossibly glam attire, with her red lips and red fingernails. She doesn’t fit in here or, at the very least, her presence irks me. But I can hardly ask her to leave.
I start climbing the ladder but, for some reason, it sways and I lose my balance for a second. I’m only two rungs up and I try to regain my footing, but it’s hard to refocus when you have two dark eyes boring into you like that.
“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath as I, very inelegantly, jump off the ladder and have to take a step back to stabilize myself. I look down and notice a piece of cardboard under one of the legs of the ladder.
“Are you all right?” Katherine has the audacity to grab me by the arm. I shrug her hand off me immediately.
“If you could just leave me to finish my work in peace,” I snap.
“Sure.” She withdraws her hand while our gazes meet. Hers is soft and caring. Mine, I hope, is thunderous and menacing. I want her as far away from me as possible.
I kick away the unbalancing scrap of cardboard and reposition the ladder, using all my concentration this time, not allowing Katherine-the-ex-call girl to mess up my focus, cursing myself inwardly because it’s stupid little mistakes like not properly securing a ladder that cause the most accidents in my line of work.
Before I attempt to climb up again, I make sure Katherine is far enough away. She’s walking away from the ladder, her back to me, her hips swaying like she’s on a bloody catwalk instead of a building site. The airs and graces of this woman. And what kind of clientele will she attract to this place? This coffee shop that has been my nephew’s dream for so long. I do hope word doesn’t get out about her previous job. Although, truth be told, Rocco’s friends would probably be drawn to her for that very reason. They probably all know and coo around her as though she’s the Queen of Sheba, while all she is… I halt my train of thought. Getting worked up while ascending a ladder is never a good idea. I take a deep breath and focus on the holes that need filling.