“There’s something not right about that lizard,” Tutu remarked. “I swear, if I believed in magic, I’d think some witch turned a person into that reptile.”
“He is rather smart.”
“It’s uncanny.”
“I’d think you’d be happy he’s got such good manners. Oh, wait, who am I talking to? You’re never happy.”
“So sassy, just like your grandma.” A comment that emerged with fondness and not acrimony.
“I got the top for the second side table done today. I should be ready to start on the bigger one tomorrow.”
“Frothing is looking good on them.” Tutu offered a rare compliment.
“I know.” I didn’t bother acting coy because it was some of my finest work.
“Speaking of Jameson, he’s supposed to pop by tonight.”
“What on earth for?”
“Dropping off an installment.”
“You know, there’s this thing called electronic funds transfer that doesn’t require anyone leaving the house and puts the money right in the bank account.”
“Cash is king.”
“Unless you hide it somewhere and forget that location.” It had happened a few times.
“Did I forget, or did I just not tell you?” he countered.
I arched a brow. “If you’d remembered, we wouldn’t have had to scramble a few months ago when we needed to pay to get the kiln fixed.”
“Banks are crooks,” was his feeble retort.
More like he knew anything he deposited would be garnished by debt collectors.
Once we’d finished dinner—my reptile clearing his plate, the second half of my potato, and all the steak fat I skipped—I headed to my room with Tigger. A murmur of voices an hour later let me know the client had dropped in. I remained hidden, mostly because I found myself smoothing my hair and eyeing my less-than-stellar pajamas. Pineapple-patterned cotton fabric. So sexy. Although, why I cared, I couldn’t have said. Jameson might be handsome, but he wasn’t my type. Even if I could ignore the fact he was a client, we came from different worlds. I, the working-class local, he, the rich outsider who probably dated models decades younger. I knew his type, having met them before. Some women might fall for the charm, and then cry later when dumped. I, though, never took the bait.
“Iolana!” Tutu bellowed my name.
I sighed and almost yelled back “What?” No point, though. I’d been summoned. Guess Jameson would be seeing my pajamas. As I went to grab the doorknob, Tigger chirped.
“Want to come along?” Why not? I snared my pet, placing him on my shoulder, and exited to find Jameson standing by the door.
A beaming Tutu held a brown envelope. “Can you show Apollo our progress?”
“Now?” I didn’t entirely manage to curb my annoyed tone. My lizard didn’t like it judging by his squeak.
“If it’s no trouble,” Jameson politely added.
I could have said no, but this man was about to put a lot of money in our hands, and if not now, he’d likely return tomorrow. Might as well get it over with.
“Sure.” I led the way, in my oh-so-fashionable nightwear and yellow flip-flops.
“Your grandfather said you have two of the side tables done.”
Great. More small talk. “Not quite. I still need to give them a final polish, but I think you’ll be pleased.” He’d better be, or I might clobber him with one of my many tools.
“I do apologize for disturbing you this late, but your grandfather insisted I see the progress.”
