“Sherry, your place here is stunning,” I say.
Her smile is warm and genuine, and her southern accent has mesmiling just from how damn charming it is. “Why thank you, Jordan. You ready to see the kitchen?”
“Yes. I’m dying to.”
Sabrina and I follow close behind like she’s our tour guide in a foreign city, our heads swiveling, taking everything in as we pass.
“Do you ladies want anything to drink? Water? Tea? Coffee?” Sherry asks, pushing through the double doors that lead into the kitchen.
My jaw drops.
Oh. My. God. It’severything.
Vaulted ceilings. Endless cabinets. Bay windows that flood the space with light. It’s gorgeous. Slightly outdated, sure, but there’s so much potential. Butterflies kick up in my stomach. This is a dream. I’ve remodeled some big kitchens, but this will be the largest project I’ve ever touched.
I take it all in, letting my eyes wander, scanning every corner, nook, and cranny.
“Some tea would be great,” I finally say.
“I’d love a water,” Sabrina adds.
Sherry disappears around the corner, and I pull out my phone, already taking pictures of the space while Sabrina walks around,oohingandaahing.
A moment later, Sherry reappears, rolling in a tea cart, her smile stretched wide. She gestures to the twelve-foot table, and Sabrina and I both take a seat.
“I can’t wait to get started, ladies.” Sherry hands Sabrina a bottle of water and sets a teacup and saucer in front of me. “Jordan, help yourself.” She leaves the cart beside me and slides into the chair across from me.
She clasps her hands together. “So, where do we start?” Her gaze settles on me. “Matt just raved and raved about you, Jordan. I’m so glad he connected us.”
Wait—what?
I had no idea Matt referred her. I didn’t even know she knew Matt. She never mentioned it, only that she’d seen my work and loved it.
And Matt never said anything either.
No wonder he remembered her name.
My pulse picks up, heat flooding my chest. Not in a good way, but in that tight, claustrophobic kind of way.
I’m grateful for this opportunity. Truly, I am. But now I’m questioning if I actually earned it, or if he simply talked her into hiring me.
I shove the thoughts aside. It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. I’ve got a client in front of me with money to spend and a kitchen begging to be brought back to life.
I smile. “Me too. Matt’s a great guy.” I take a sip of my tea. “Now, let’s talk about your vision for this space.”
I pushopen the door to my pappoús’ beach house and lug my suitcase up and over the step.
Sabrina follows, then lets out a laugh. “Oh my God, girl. This is no Sherry Wolf house, but Jesus Christ. You’re rich.”
I roll my eyes. “Myfamilyis rich. Not me.”
I ditch my suitcase by the stairs, and Sabrina trails me into the kitchen, plopping our takeout onto the counter.
“Still,” she says, “you have a rich family. I won’t get shit when my people start dropping off. I’ll probably inherit someone’s debt.”
“Is that even a thing? Doesn’t debt die with a person?”
She shrugs. “No idea. But one thing’s for sure, you aren’t getting stuck with any.”
