Chapter 8
Caroline couldn’t believe that she’d spent the whole afternoon with Bonnie Boxwell. It had started when Caroline stopped by Bonnie’s décor shop, and the next thing she knew, Bonnie was showing her a new line of cabinet hardware. “I love these handles,” Caroline told Bonnie as she fondled a brushed-nickel bar. “But I have no idea what kind of cupboards would go with them. The truth is I’m pretty décor-challenged.”
Bonnie laughed. “That’s why you’re here.”
“Well, that, and because Paul Franklin won’t work with me unless I hire a designer to help.”
“Paul’s a smart man. He doesn’t want to waste time. And he knows I can stay several steps ahead of his game.” Then Bonnie started speaking in what sounded like a foreign language, talking about base and wall cabinet installations, plumbing and electrical inspections, and all sorts of other technical terms that overwhelmed Caroline.
Caroline held up her hands. “My friends are all good at this,” she confessed to Bonnie, “but I am hopeless. I even had to hire someone to help me stage my condo in LA, and all we did was rearrange furniture. The stager was nice enough about it, but I could tell she was stunned at my total lack of style.” Caroline held up a finger. “Well, unless we’re talking about clothes. I can hold my own with fashion. But houses—especially my mom’s old ranch—just frustrate me.”
“Don’t worry,” Bonnie assured her. “Lots of very stylish women need help with their homes.”
The next thing Caroline knew, Bonnie had followed her over to her house and they were going through each room, and Bonnie was measuring spaces and showing Caroline samples of paint and wood and fabric and light fixtures and tiles and so many choices that Caroline felt her head was spinning.
“I like this,” Caroline pointed to the cover of one of the design books that Bonnie had spread out on the fireplace hearth. “If this house could look even a little bit like this photo, I’d be over the moon.”
“That’s perfect for this house,” Bonnie told her. “Mid-Century Modern.” She looked at Caroline. “I can imagine you fitting in with that style.”
Caroline chuckled. “Meaning I’m Mid-Century Modern too? I was born in the midfifties, so you could be right.”
Bonnie wandered back toward the burned-out section of the house. “You can be thankful that this is the part of the house that was destroyed,” she told Caroline.
“Whatever for?” Caroline frowned.
“Because your insurance money will help you to turn it into a real master suite.”
“Really?” Caroline considered this. “With a master bath, too?”
“Absolutely. You’d be crazy not to. I assume that you’ll want a good-sized walk-in closet in there too.”
“That’d be great.” Caroline nodded eagerly. Then she looked at the gutted space and just shook her head. “Although how that horrible mess could possibly be transformed into a livable room is beyond me. I honestly cannot begin to imagine it.”
“Well, leave it to me and your contractor,” Bonnie assured her. “I promise you, we’ll get it done—and you’ll be happy with it.”
Caroline had felt a twinge of guilt that she’d signed the contract with Bonnie. Although she wasn’t eager to share this news with Abby, she reminded herself that she was providing Paul and his crew with a little work. Hopefully Abby would appreciate that.
Caroline had just emerged from the shower when Marley called, and Caroline was more than eager to go out and celebrate with her friend. Tonight would be a two-fold celebration. First of all for Marley’s success. But they could also celebrate the start of Caroline’s adventure in restoring her childhood home.
“Here’s to my talented friend, who’s about to become a world-renowned artist,” Caroline said as she and Marley held up their champagne flutes, clinking them together.
“Thank you.” Marley beamed at her. “And here’s to your house renovation—may it turn out to be as lovely as its owner.”
Caroline laughed, then took a bubbly sip. “You’re sweeter than usual tonight, Marley. I will chalk it up to your big sale. That is just so awesome—I can’t even imagine how jazzed you must feel. Have you told Jack about it yet?”
Marley’s smile faded a little. “No, but I will.”
“Is it a problem?” Caroline studied her face. “I mean, won’t Jack be thrilled for you? And for himself, too, since it’s his gallery?”
“I’m sure Jack will be happy.” Marley set her glass down. “But between you and me and the lamppost, I’m questioning myself.”
“Questioning yourself? Whatever for? The guy obviously loved your art. Surely you don’t feel guilty for making such a great sale?”
“No, it’s not like that.” Marley told Caroline about the buyer’s gallery in Santa Barbara and how he planned to resell the paintings at a higher price.
“Oh.” Caroline nodded. “I’m guessing it’s a pretty swanky gallery.”
“I think so. Thomas told me that he could add an extra zero to the prices of my paintings and still sell them.”
“You’re kidding.” Caroline was no math genius, but she knew what an extra zero could mean when a painting had previously been priced at more than a thousand dollars. “Oh, Marley, do you think he really meant that?”
Marley shrugged with an uncomfortable expression. “I don’t know.”
“Oh … wow.”
“After I thought about that a bit, I felt kind of depressed. You know, like I had a winning lottery ticket but tossed it out with the trash.”
Caroline didn’t know what to say. But what had started out as a fun celebration was beginning to feel more like a wake.
“I know I should be happy that my paintings sold at all,” Marley said in a somber tone. “Well, I’m only human. No one likes to be undersold.”
“Maybe the guy was exaggerating,” Caroline suggested. Although the more she thought about it, the more she realized that art would probably bring considerably more in a place like Santa Barbara. Especially considering how that area was known as a popular playground for some fairly rich and famous folks.
“Hey,” Caroline said suddenly, “I think Oprah has a vacation home in Santa Barbara. Maybe she’ll shop in that guy’s gallery. What if she bought one of your paintings? Wouldn’t that be cool?”
Marley brightened. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Think of it like this, Marley. Even if you sold your paintings for less than they’re worth, that gallery owner might’ve just launched you into true art greatness. I mean, what if he hadn’t stopped by the gallery tonight? You’d be sitting at home, and you’d still be thinking you were just some … well, no offense, but a small-town artist.”
“That’s true.”
“But now your work will be hanging with the best of them. You should be happy and proud.”
Marley smiled. “You’re right! Thanks so much, Caroline! I knew you were the perfect person to celebrate with me tonight.”
Caroline lifted her glass again. “Here’s to you painting even more and raising the prices even higher in the future.”
“Thanks.” They clinked glasses again. “I should be thankful that my art is a renewable resource,” she said. “I hope to get better with time, although I’m not sure when I’ll actually be able to paint again.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve been helping with Hunter,” Marley told her. “It kind of eats into my day.”
“Her mom is still gone?”
Marley nodded. “Jack’s not even sure she’s coming back.”
“So she’s really abandoned her child?”
“Oh, I don’t think Jasmine thinks of it as abandonment. I’m sure she assumes that her dad will take care of everything just like he always does.”
“That’s so wrong.” Caroline frowned. “And unfair. I mean, I think about how much other people would love to have children. Like me—I used to want a child so badly when I was younger, and, well, you know that sad story.” Caroline really didn’t want to think about that just now, especially since this was supposed to be a happy night. “But if I’d ever had a daughter as sweet and adorable as Hunter, I couldn’t imagine abandoning her. It’s just nuts.”
“I know.” Marley sighed. “I’m pretty sure Jack is going to end up raising Hunter, which won’t be easy at his age. I mean, I just did the math—Jack will be in his midseventies by the time Hunter graduates high school. Can you imagine?”
“Wow.” Caroline tried to wrap her head around that. “But you have to remember that the seventies, like the fifties, aren’t as old as they used to be.” She smiled. “Right?”
“Let’s hope so.” Marley changed the subject, asking about Abby’s first official guests at the bed-and-breakfast.
“It’s not going as well as Abby had hoped.” Caroline filled her in on the grumpy guests. “I think it would’ve been better if they’d just checked out today like they’d threatened to, but Glen Hawley, who came to town to interview for the city manager job, decided to stick it out at Abby’s inn. Now Abby is stuck with them.”
“Poor Abby. But doesn’t that come with the territory? I mean, you can’t exactly handpick your guests.”
“That’s true,” Caroline conceded. “But having to cohabitate with people like Glen Hawley—and we’re hoping and praying he doesn’t get hired—actually makes me want to look for new digs myself.” Caroline told Marley her hopes of getting her remodel done before the Mexico trip. “To that end, I’ve signed contracts with both Paul Franklin and Bonnie Boxwell.”
Marley looked surprised. “Really?”
“I know.” Caroline offered a weak smile. “Abby doesn’t know about it yet. I mean about the Bonnie part. I’m not eager to tell her, especially in light of her recent frustrations over her guest situation at the B and B. She doesn’t need something else to stress about. Even now I’m thinking maybe I should call Bonnie and tell her I’ve changed my mind.” She frowned. “But then I’ll lose Paul, too.”
“Why?”
So Caroline explained how Paul refused to work for her without a designer involved. “And he recommended Bonnie.”
“That seems a little suspicious.”
“Not really. I mean, it’s not like this town is crawling with designers. The way they both explained it, it sounds like things will go a lot more smoothly. My problem is that I don’t want Abby to find out, at least not for a while.”
Marley made a zipping motion on her lips. “She won’t hear it from me.”
“This is one of the challenges of living in a small town,” Caroline admitted. “Having to work around stuff with friends and personality clashes and trying to keep everyone happy.”
“That’s true, but don’t you think the benefits outweigh the negatives?”
“Absolutely,” Caroline agreed. “I adore Clifden. And I love living here. I’m even enjoying this rainy winter weather.” She pointed to her heavy wool blazer. “I get to wear real winter clothes here. I couldn’t do much of that down in LA. It’s fun pulling out sweaters and boots and scarves and knowing that I really need them here.”
Marley got a slightly dreamy look. “Clifden is a sweet place, but I have to admit that when Thomas—the Santa Barbara gallery guy—asked if I’d ever lived in a tropical place like Jamaica, well, I realized that it’s something I would actually love to do someday. If it’s possible.”
“Really?” Caroline considered this. “You’d move away from here?”
“Not permanently, but maybe for a while. In my dreams, anyway.” Marley laughed. “Like I can even afford that.”
“If you keep selling paintings like you did tonight, you can.”
Marley waved her hand. “This was probably a one-time thing.”
“Don’t be too sure.”
“Besides,” Marley added, “who knows if I’ll ever have time to paint again?”
“Oh, you know you will. Even if you keep helping with Hunter, you could paint while she’s in school.”
“Maybe, but it’s been pretty distracting. I want to get back into a groove again soon.” Marley sighed. “Of course, by then Hunter will probably be home for winter break.”
“What about babysitters?”
“I don’t know. I hate making her feel like she’s getting shoved off. I want her to know that I really do love her—you know, the way a grandmother would. She needs that. Poor little thing.”
“I’ll bet you’re a really good grandma.”
“I try.”
“But maybe Hunter needs some aunties, too.” Caroline got an idea. “In fact, I wouldn’t mind helping out with her sometimes. I mean, if Abby wouldn’t mind me having her at the inn. That is, until I get into something else.”
“That would be wonderful,” Marley told her. “So what are your plans? I mean as far as where you live? Will you move into your parents’ old house once it’s finished?”
“I don’t know. I honestly can’t imagine it. I mean, Bonnie was all enthused today, talking about Mid-Century Modern and how cool the house could be, but I’m just not seeing it. To me that sorry old ranch house is just a hopelessly run-down and depressing place full of way too many unhappy memories. I’m not sure I’ll ever feel good about living there.”
“I can understand that.”
“Until my condo sells or I get a job, I can’t really afford to invest in anything else. All my insurance money is going right back into my mom’s house. I’m trying to think of it as an investment. Anyway, I guess I should be thankful that Abby’s giving me such a good deal on my room, and, unless she gets a lot more cranky guests, I guess I can stick it out there as long as I need to. Really, it could be worse.”
Caroline realized how pathetic her life sounded. Middle-aged and unemployed, living in a rented room … even her love life was unimpressive. But at least she had a dog. That was something!