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“Is this his house?” I ask as Alina pulls in front of a big black iron gate with TM carved into the middle.
“This is it,” she says as she rolls the window down and hits the button for the intercom.
No one answers. She hits it again.
“He’s probably out,” she says as she punches in the code. “He gave me the code to his front door too so we can work when he’s at practice. He said he’d rather not see me at all.”
She chuckles but I frown.
“That was rude.”
She shrugs. “He’s letting us redesign three of his closets. I’m not complaining.”
The iron gate creaks open and Alina drives in.
This house doesn’t look like the others on the street. It’s just as large, but there are no lovely gardens filled with colorful flowers or giant plants lining the property. It’s dark and dreary. It’s missing a woman’s touch.
My nerves start going as Alina drives up the long private cobblestone road and parks on the roundabout portion of the driveway. Five garage doors. Wow.
“So, we’ll check out the closets and try to design at least one today,” Alina says as she opens her door. “Sound good?”
“Sounds great!” I say as I hop out, hoping I can be of service.
We grab some supplies from the trunk—tape measures, a power drill, sample pieces of flooring and wood for the shelving. Stuff like that. And then we head to the front door.
“Aren’t you going to knock?” I ask as Alina enters the code.
She shrugs. “He’s not home. He would have answered at the gate.”
I swallow hard as I step into the dark musty house. All of the curtains are closed. The furniture is sparse. One room I peek into has nothing in it at all.
“Oh my,” I whisper when I see the size of his muddy boots beside the wall. I could fit both of my feet into one at the same time.
“Yeah, he’s a big dude,” Alina says with a laugh. “I’m just glad he’s protecting my Sebastian and not using him as target practice anymore.”
Target practice? Oh my. I don’t think I’ve ever watched hockey—it’s way too violent for me—but I didn’t think it was this bad.
“The first closet is in the basement,” Alina says. “I figure we’ll start there and the last closet we’ll renovate can be his master bedroom. That way if we screw up on the first one, it will be in the basement and hopefully he won’t be too mad.”
“Okay,” I say nervously as I follow her to the stairs.
We pass the kitchen and I peek in.
There’s a melted ice pack on the counter and a few empty cans of beer by the sink. It’s a beautifully made kitchen, but there’s something sad about it. Maybe it’s the closed blinds making it all dark or the fact that there are no fun magnets or anything else on the refrigerator. I just wish it had a vase of flowers on the table or some cute hand-painted signs hanging on the walls. All of the walls are painted gray and there’s nothing on them.
You’re here for the closets, I tell myself. Not for the rest of the house.
Alina opens the door to the basement and I head down with her. Down here is even sadder. It’s just a bunch of gym equipment, punching bags, and hockey equipment lying around.
“Nice, right?” Alina says with a laugh when she sees my face. “That’s just Tucker. You’ll understand when you meet him.”
I don’t think I want to meet him.
Wait, that’s not fair. I’m just nervous. I always try to give everyone a chance.
Everyone deserves that at least.
“Wow,” I whisper when I see the bar on the bench press. There’s so much weight on it that I’m surprised the whole thing hasn’t collapsed. I didn’t think it was possible for someone to be that strong.
