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“His wife is hassling Zoey about her dad’s place...well, it’sherplace now.” Mike frowned into his coffee mug. “She hasn’t had a chance to move those so-called sculptures of Rob’s from the lawn, and Mrs. Schiff threatened her about having a business in a residentially zoned area.”
Evie Hudson walked up to the table with a fresh pot of coffee and rested her hand on her husband Mark’s shoulder. “Are you talking aboutKarenSchiff? Ugh. She’s a stuck-up bee-yotcha. Nothing’s ever good enough for her. The few times she shows up here, she spends the whole time loudly whining about Rendezvous Falls being so ‘backward’ and ‘provincial.’ They moved here from Long Island, and we’re clearly not up to her exquisite standards.”
She refilled their coffees and left the pot as she cleared the table. Mark smiled as she walked away with an armful of dishes. “Motherhood has not softened my wife’s opinions in the least.”
“Zoey has the same basic opinion of the woman,” Mike answered. He didn’t like the idea of anyone causing Zoey any more stress than she already had in her life right now.
“She can’t really cause trouble for Zoey, can she?” Luke asked.
“I don’t think so. I’m working on it.” Mike wished he could be more sure, but there were some odd little glitches in the zoning rules and how properties could be considered grandfatheredso that newer rules didn’t apply to them. He was still researching the history of Zoey’s house, which had been in her father’s family for multiple generations.
Logan frowned. “How can this guy be writing about Victorian houses when he built that eyesore?”
Mark sat back and spread his hands. “Art is subjective, guys. Ed told me once that his focus is on how every generation had a ‘cutting-edge style’ that was a modern sensation in its day. Like the over-the-top Victorian houses around here. In their time, they were the newest fad. They were considered contemporary then, just like his place is considered contemporary now.”
“I get what you’re saying about art,” Logan said, “but personally, I’m hoping cement bunkers don’t become a fad.”
Even Mark agreed on that. They chatted about their respective businesses and families a bit longer, then headed out. Mike cautioned them to keep the conversation about Zoey to themselves, knowing they’d probably all tell their wives anyway.
He stopped at Zoey’s that night and filled her in on what he’d found so far. He didn’t mention the possible gray area about whether the place qualified for a grandfather clause. He didn’t want her worrying about something that might never become an issue. Karen Schiff was probably bluffing anyway.
“I’m going to move some of Dad’s sculptures,” Zoey said, her attention on the old sewing machine in front of her. She scowled down into the workings of the machine. “That seems to be her biggest beef, so she might back off.”
“What are you going to do with them?”
“I haven’t decided. For now, I’ll put them behind the barn and out of sight.”
That didn’t feel right to Mike. She shouldn’t have to hide her dad’s artwork, no matter how quirky it was. He wasn’t giving up on this battle with this Schiff woman.
Zoey took a can of air and sprayed it inside the sewing machine now that she had the top off, blowing out little bits of dust. Next came a small bottle of oil with a long, narrow tip on it, and she started putting drops of oil in the sewing machine. First on the camshaft in the front, then near the back, where a little arm moved the needle up and down, and finally in the bobbin area under that. She set the bottle down and blotted the excess. He enjoyed watching her puzzle out how to fix things.
“I don’t think the sculptures are going anywhere this week, though,” she sighed. “The weather’s supposed to be really lousy.”
“Yeah, I heard that, too. A couple of storm systems coming one after the other. Mary said we could get over five inches of rain by the time it’s over.” He made a mental note to get his Mustang securely in the garage.
She nodded. “Sounds like a good weekend for painting. Hazel will be with her dad, so I’m going to tackle the sparkly black ceiling she wants in her bedroom.” She took a sip of the wine he’d brought. “We moved most of her furniture out this week, and I don’t want her living in chaos for too long.”
“So she just asks for a black ceiling and...gets it?” He couldn’t help thinking it would be easier to just sayno.
“Oh, you sweet, sweet innocent, you.” Zoey rolled her eyes. “It’s so obvious you don’t have kids.” There was a short silence before she rushed to apologize. “Oh, shit, that was insensitive as hell. I’m sorry, Mike.”
He absorbed the hit and hid the sting. “It’s okay. I get it. Not a parent. But can’t you just refuse to use black paint?”
She tucked a folded piece of scrap fabric in the sewing machine and ran it, seeming pleased with the fact that it no longer made that clunking sound like it had before. As she screwed the top back on, she glanced over at him through long lashes.
“Have you heard the termpick your battles?” He nodded and she continued. “Half of a parent’s life is spent doing just that. Deciding what’s worth the argument and what’s not. What decisions a child needs to make for herself, and which might be too risky to allow. Hazel’s at that fun age where shefeelsgrown-up, but she’s really not.” Zoey sat back and ran the sewing machine again, giving a nod of satisfaction as she slid it to the side. “So I try to give her some leeway to start being responsible for her own decisions. And I made a minor miscalculation that isn’t her fault.”
“What was that?”
“I told her she could pick the paint colors in her bedroom. It never occurred to me that she’d go with a black ceiling, but I made her a promise. And who cares what color the ceiling is, anyway? It’s not like I’m worried about resale value—pretty sure I’ll be living here for a long time to come.”
“And if she hates it when it’s done?” That seemed pretty likely—it was ablackceiling—but then again, he wasn’t a thirteen-year-old girl.
“If she does, then she’ll learn an important lesson about having the ability to make decisions. Sometimes we makebadones, and there are consequences. In this case, the consequence would be living with it, or earning the money to repaint it.”
Was it any wonder Mike never thought he’d make a great parent? Zoey seemed to be such a natural, but he had the feeling he’d do everything wrong.
“How do you know which battles to choose?”
