But even as the logical part of his mind sent out the warning, his heart was already planting a seed of hope that somehow he and Andie could find their way back to what they’d once had.
Andie rushed around the front rooms of the Thompson house, picking up this and moving that. She didn’t want it to look cluttered or disorganized for the inspector. She wasn’t sure why because it wasn’t like he was inspecting the interior of the house. He was only interested in the areas where the public would be allowed—the tented area outside and the porch. Maybe she just needed to work off some nervous energy.
She was straightening a display of coin silver spoons that sat on a coffee table in the living room when she heard a car pull up.
“That must be the inspector.” Emily parted the blue velvet drapes and glanced out the window. “Oh no.”
“What?”
Andie joined her, her heart sinking when she saw Damien Carruthers squeeze out of a black Volkswagen Beetle. “He’s the inspector?”
“I don’t like him.”
“Who does? Crap. Well, hopefully he won’t be here long. I’ll deal with him.”
Andie’s offer earned a small smile from Emily. “Thanks. I’m going to walk to the mailbox out by the road and get the mail.”
“Chicken,” Andie teased.
Emily laughed. “He’s nasty. Don’t worry, I owe you one.”
She might have to spend a few unpleasant minutes with Damien Carruthers, but at least she’d found common ground with Emily and perhaps even the start of a new friendship.
Chapter Thirteen
Andie should have known by the scowl that darkened Damien’s face as soon as he saw her that the inspection would not go well.
“So, you’ve talked the Thompsons into having an auction?” Damien pressed his lips together disapprovingly and scribbled something on the paper attached to the official-looking metal clipboard he was carrying. They were over at the front section of the tent. Damien had insisted on inspecting each tent pole and stake and, so far, hadn’t given any indication as to how his inspection was going. Andie was afraid it wasn’t going very well if the sour look on his face was any indication.
“I didn’t actually talk them into it, really.” Had she? He’d made it sound like a bad thing. “There is so much inventory, and they wanted some of the income sooner.”
“Uh-huh. So you’re getting a commission. Nice gig for you.”
Andie bristled at the insinuation that she was somehow ripping the Thompsons off. “I’m actually not getting a commission.”
Damien’s brows rose as if he didn’t believe her. “Really? And why are you doing all this work? There must be some really good items in the house that you are holding back for yourself.”
“I’m just helping out.” There were some good items in the house, but he made it sound so nefarious. Andie worried if the deal she’d worked with Emily was fair enough and made a mental note to make sure she was paying fair prices for the items she’d intended to buy for her shop.
Damien moved on to the pole that held up the center of the tent. He tugged on the pole, bent down as far as his overly large stomach would allow to look at the area near the ground, then took out a tape measure and ran it from the pole to the nearest chairs.
“These chairs should be six feet away.” He marked something down on the clipboard.
“You’re writing that down? The chairs are easy to move!” Andie demonstrated by moving a chair farther away from the pole.
“Just doing my job. Now, the order says people will be on the porch of the house.” He narrowed his eyes and looked toward the house.
Andie followed his gaze, suddenly very nervous. “We’re going to set tables up with some of the items to preview on the porch. As you can see, we’re having the porch fixed up so it’s safe.”
“Uh-huh.” Damien started toward the porch, and Andie followed.
“Hi, Damien,” Shane said. Damien grunted a greeting then bent to inspect the boards Shane had just nailed into place.
Shane stood back and watched Damien scrutinize his work. “As you can see, everything is up to code, and I use the highest quality materials.”
“Are they galvanized nails?” Damien pointed to the pile of nails.
“Yes, of course.”
