He can hear both the force of my words and the waver in my voice I’m sure.
“Okay, okay.” Paul is gentle in his response. “Tell me what’s going on.”
It’s hard to keep from crying when I unload. “I want a bigger kitchen. I want to tear this shitty thing apart and make it bigger. Let’s add on an addition. A huge oven, as many cabinets as possible, larger windows, especially this one that overlooks the lake. The black iron frames, like the ones that are going into the living room. A gorgeous backsplash and counters. Appliances that are not for shit. Is that too much to ask?” I spin about and lift up my arms while my words tumble out. “I want to be able to cook in here. Cook for groups. And lighting? There could be some kind of perfect lighting here. Not that I know what it is yet, but I could figure it out. Or Danny could. I saw his place, and he knows about lighting. And I can’t stop thinking about the flooring in here. What do you think we should put in? It should be a durable tile, right? Not a luxury vinyl wood. I know that’s a big trend, but tile is tile. It’s forever. That’s what I want. I want forever.”
Paul stays silent until I abandon my rant. Then, he smiles. “This isyourkitchen. And it’syourhouse. That is very clear. Right?”
My resolution astounds even me. “Yes. This ismyhouse.Myhome.”
“And you are going to stay here,” he finishes for me.
“Yes, I am going to stay here. I am not going back to Los Angeles.”
There is such relief in saying these words out loud. And also such terror.
“But you haven’t told your mother?” he prompts.
“I haven’t even told myself, so no.” My hands shake, and I can barely breathe. “What if she doesn’t let this house be mine? What is she makes me sell it? That’s what she wants.”
Paul’s audible exhale is practically deafening. “Callie?” He now sounds exasperated, and I’m a bit taken aback. “Do you honestly believe that your mother would sell this house out from under you?”
It only takes a second to answer. “Yes. Of course she would.”
“Well, you’re damn wrong. She’s hardened, and she has reason to be. But she loves you, and she’ll hear you out when it’s time.” It’s surprising to see how irritated he looks. How he defends her so easily.
“She loves me?” I turn and slump over the sink and let out a dry laugh. “It doesn’t feel like it most of the time.”
Paul sighs, and I can hear his sadness. “I’m sorry to hear that. And I’ve worried about what happened after she took you girls away,” he admits. But then he raises his voice and sounds firm. “Of courseshe loves you. I’ve known your mother for years and years. It’s hard for Cindy to talk about what happened. About her husband dying. Losing Mike and what that did to her? And now, this house, having to address all it needs? She’s got too many memories here, and she runs from them all. This house shit is triggering.” He steps in and puts a hand on my shoulder. “For you, this house seems to be healing. For your mom, it’s traumatizing—yet again. Maybe she has to learn from you.”
My choice now is to cry or to slice my first baked bread. So, I slice and share a buttered piece with Paul.
He takes a bite and nods enthusiastically. “This bread is killer. Jesus. Anyway, we are not building an addition, okay? That involves complicated permits, not to mention that it’d look weird. But I’ll help you make this kitchen spectacular.”
I sniff and refrain from ensnaring him in a vise-grip hug. “But lots of other new stuff?”
“Yes,” he agrees. “Lots of other new stuff. It might still be a small space, but it’s going to be wonderful.” He leans back and gives me a mischievous look. “Have you thought about a greenhouse window in here?”
I smile. “Overlooking the lake?”
He nods and takes another bite of the bread.
“Are you going to tell her what I’m doing? What I’m asking you to do?”
He whispers a few curses and runs a hand back and forth over the top of his head before he basically growls and blurts out, “No, I’m not. I mean, you’re paying me for more hours, so technically, I could say I thought you’d taken over…”
Paul issoon my side, and I like it.
I also like when Matteo and Slowski bust in and announce that the roof is done.
“You must see!” Matteo yells. “It’sbellissima! Look at the tin!”
“So much better. Like, that last roof was all shitty, right?” Slowski agrees and shouts out the window. “Danny, look!”
I watch from the kitchen as Danny drops his tool belt and walks to the front of the house.
“That’s a perfect roof. Good job, my friends!” he calls out. “And good call on the black tin roof, Callie! Super sharp!”
Matteo makes a show of glancing at my cutting board and grinning. “Ah, is maybe lunch?”
