Andreas got in before Skye had the chance.
“We were in the middle of discussing the problem of Skye’s floor,” he said, going on to explain briefly about the wet cement and her reluctance to stay elsewhere while it dried.
“Don’t waste your money on a hotel,” Joy said to Skye. “You can bunk up with me.”
“Bravo.” Andreas gave a short nod as if that settled the matter. “The perfect solution.”
“Are you sure?” Skye turned to her neighbor. “I wouldn’t want to get in your way.”
“Very sure,” Joy said, bracelets jangling as she swatted at a fly. “Feel free to stay as long as you like.”
Stamatis appeared at an open bedroom window above them and called down to Andreas.
“Nai.” He turned to Skye. “Perímene.”
This word, she had quickly learned, meant “wait.” Andreas threw it out often, seemingly to prevent her from straying too far away. He might have been in charge of the renovation, but she was still the boss—another fact of which he frequently reminded her.
“Éla, you are the one who is paying the wages, and you must be stern with the men as they come and go. Tell them what you want, and if you see them being lazy, you must shout at them. They will not respect you if you are too nice.”
It was good advice in theory. Skye could easily have issued instructions to a classroom of children, but a handful of strange men whose language she did not speak was beyond her capabilities. The previous day, she’d cautiously asked Stamatis if there was any chance of saving the original wooden shutters. He had stared at her blankly, then wordlessly tossed the remnants over her shoulder onto the scrap pile. Skye had waited until nightfall to sneak out and retrieve them, though she had no idea how to begin repairing them. Her dad had been the artistic one, and he was no longer there to ask. It caught her off-guard, the grief short and sharp, as if she’d plunged into freezing water. An ache pulled taut behind her lungs, and she swallowed, blinking hard.
“You all right there, chook?” Joy’s concerned face swam into view. Andreas had already moved away; she could hear his voice filtering out through the open window.
“Sorry.” Skye forced herself to focus. “Drifted off for a second there.”
“It’s this heat,” Joy said, fanning her face with her hands. “God only knows how Dusty spends all day working in it. Have you seen what she’s building over in the girls’ backyard?”
“I haven’t been over since they moved in,” Skye admitted. “It’s been a hectic few days.”
“You’re not wrong,” Joy agreed. “Dusty’s been out there all hours, digging in the ground, creating this long patch from the back of the old hut to the house. It’s going to be an extension eventually—and a fancy one at that. All glass doors and underfloor heating.”
“That sounds…modern,” Skye said. “Aren’t we supposed to complement the local aesthetic?”
“That’s what I said,” Joy replied. “But apparently she had the planning permission signed off before they even arrived.”
“And she’s doing it all herself?”
“Seems to be.” Joy leaned in conspiratorially. “Mini Mia’s been doing her best to help, but the poor kid gets yelled at so often. Dusty’s a doer, that’s for sure, but woe betide anyone who gets in that girl’s way.”
They both turned at the sound of Andreas thundering back down the stairs.
“I have to go,” he said as he reached them. “Stamatis will remove the floorboards from the second bedroom, so there will be a lot of noise, a lot of dust. Later we will begin downstairs.”
“Hot date, is it?” Joy drawled. Andreas frowned, momentarily confused.
“Ah.” He grinned. “Yes, a hot date with a man named Pericles who sells rubber insulation panels.”
He wiggled his brows suggestively, making both women laugh.
“See you later, OK?” He looked directly at Skye.
“OK,” she said.
The truck engine fired, and almost immediately, a loud banging began above. Joy glanced at Skye.
“Is he always like that?” she asked as the two of them started across the hillside.
“Who?”
