“I need you to help me choose finishes.”
“Finishes?” She blinks at me, then back down at the table. “Like your paint colors, floors, tile?” Her voice has risen an octave.
“I’m terrible with this shit. If the homeowners don’t pick it out, I’m screwed.”
“You want me…” She looks up at me again. “…to choose what your home is going to look like?”
“I do. Like I said, I’m no good at this part. So, pick things you like. My only request is that it’s not industrial looking. I want it to have a warm and inviting feel. Like a cabin, maybe?”
“Warm and inviting?”
“Homey.”
“Homey?”
“Yeah. Nothing industrial or cold.” I pause. “Unless you think that would be best.” What if that’s what she likes?
“No. I think warm and inviting is perfect.”
“Hey. Let’s do this… Why don’t we take this stuff out to the deck? I think there’s a bottle of wine in my fridge.” I point to the one I had brought in yesterday and set up in the garage.
“You have wine here?”
“Sure. I like to come out and sit on the deck sometimes. It’s peaceful.”
“Wine sounds nice.”
“Awesome.” My smile is so big, it hurts. “Let’s move all this out there, then.”
We work together, and it’s easy. Natural. Once the supplies are on the deck, I retrieve a bottle of white wine and a small platter of cheese and crackers. When I set that on the small table between the chairs, I catch a wary look on her face.
“You planned this.”
“Of course I planned this. I need your help. It’s going to take some time. You think I’m not going to feed you?” I cannot lie to this woman. Fib, yes. Lie, no.
Her eyes grow round in surprise.
I may as well spill the beans. “I’ve also got some steaks if you want to grill.”
“Where’s the grill?”
“In the garage. There’s going to be an outdoor kitchen there.” I point to our right.
“You’ve thought of everything.”
I’m guessing she’s referring to the steaks and wine, but I’m going with, “Years of building houses for other people … it’s given me ideas.”
“Smart.”
She sips her wine, then sets her glass on the small table. “So, where should we start?”
“I was thinking floors first. I’d like hardwood.”
“Absolutely.” She walks over to the table and lays out the six flooring samples I had delivered. She immediately rules out the two darkest. “These will show everything.”
She’s right. They do.
After a few minutes, she removes the lightest piece. “Too light for the feel of the place.”
