1
Buttercup Glow.
Was it supposed to be so…yellow? Polly Mack wrinkled her nose.
Yes, it was yellow paint, but she’d been going for a light, sunny kind of shade. Petie, the guy at the store, had described the shade as soft and warm. He’d even used the word “golden.”
This wasn’t golden. It reminded her of old butter. Or mustard.
She picked up her cell to text her best friend.
Polly: I hate it.
Maggie: What do you mean? Petie said your office would look like a sunrise.
Polly: He lied. And I almost feel compelled to go and tell him.
Not now. It was nearly six and the place was closed. But tomorrow she’d be giving that man a piece of her mind.
Not that this was entirely his fault. Maybe to Petie, this shadewassoft and warm. Maybe this was Petie’s kind of yellow.
Maggie: If you still hate it tomorrow, I will storm down to that hardware store with you and demand a refund.
She chuckled. That was exactly why Maggie was her best friend. She was the hide-a-body kind of friend. The tell-me-where-to-dig instead of why-do-we-need-a-hole.
Polly glanced at the wall again.
It was worse. How was it worse?
Maybe it was the lighting. Maybe in the light of the morning, it would look better.
Or maybe it was the angle.
She stepped back. Her foot kicked over the open paint can.
Shit.
Quickly, she lifted it, but it was too late. Half the contents had spilled out over the drop cloth.
Great. Her cozy little evening of painting the office of Bloom was going just great. All she needed now was?—
Her phone rang.
There it was.
She slid the phone from the pocket of her white overalls to see it was exactly who she thought. Shecouldlet it go to voicemail.
No. Then her mother would just show up at the shop. Olivia Mack was nothing if not persistent when she wanted something.
Argh, she couldn’t look at the yellow anymore anyway.
“Hi, Mom.” She stepped over the spilled paint and moved into the open kitchen.
“Polly, darling, when are you coming over? Jonah and I have your favorite peanut butter brownies ready and waiting.”
“I can’t come over tonight—I told you that.” Although, yes, shewouldmiss the brownies. Dammit.
“When did you tell me?”
