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The bearded man stared at me blankly. "We're fixing your flooring. We’ll have it done by today, as agreed.”
“But I," I stammered, confused, and my stomach rolled with nerves, "I don't have the money to pay you."
The bearded man looked at me like I had two heads. “The invoice’s paid.”
"What?"
Even Callie made a squawking noise.
“Mr. Craven paid,” he glanced at his phone, “a little over a week ago." Right after I’d gone to the Magnolia.
"Mr. Craven?” My voice came out a squeak of disbelief. That man!
“He let us in this morning. Told us not to wake you.” I bet he did—didn’t want us to yell at him. “Did you..." Now Bearded man looked a little bit nervous. "Did you not order this?
"I ..." I frowned, folding my arms across my chest. I was going to kill Rook. “Do you often come into people’s homes and tear up floors without the owner's knowledge?”
“Frankly, people don't often pay for repairs on homes they don't own. He paid a hefty rush fee and demanded completion by today. We had to overnight the flooring from Indonesia.”
Of course. Midnight tonight was the deadline they’d given me to make a decision.
“I assumed that he owned the house.”
I could only blink at the boxes of hardwood flooring—the color perfectly matching the custom flooring. It was a rare dark color that my father had specially ordered.
"I..." I didn't know what to say. There was already a hole in my foyer. What else could I do but let them finish?
At the sudden, distant buzz of a chainsaw, Callie and I forgot about the floor and, flinging the front door open, rushed into the yard. There was another crew outside, standing around my favorite tree—one of them had climbed it and was starting to saw into a limb. I watched in horror as the branch that used to hold our tire swing began to lean downward.
“No!” Callie exclaimed, and we sprinted across the yard, waving our hands for them to stop.
I grabbed the nearest body I could find—a Hispanic-looking male with a bright lime green t-shirt on that said, Timber Tech.
"Stop, stop!"
"I no speak English." The man said, pointing towards another man. “Jefe over there.”
Growling, I stomped my way through the grass, ignoring the jabs to my bare feet.
"Excuse me!" I had to yell over the sound of the chain saw.
"Get back, please," the man held out an arm, positioning me away from the tree.
"I said stop!" I yelled again, this time demanding his attention.
He shook his head, leaning forward, his hand going to his ear. “My hearing’s not good. What’d you say?”
"I said stop!" I screamed so loud that if he wasn't already deaf, he would be.
He shook his head again, then walked away from me, yelling, “Hey Julio, parale!” Five men in the same lime green shirt all turned to stare at him. He made a cutting motion across his neck. “Parale, amigo!”
After a few seconds of motioning from the men on the ground, Julio finally stopped. Then all eyes were on me.
"What's this then?" Grey speckled hair peeked out from under the man’s hat and wrinkles lined his eyes.
“You’re not supposed to cut that down,” I gestured emphatically at the tree, feeling a loss for that stupid limb. Out of all things.
"I was contacted by a Mr.—“
