Romy crosses the room with an easy confidence, wearing heels that make Kiki’s look tame by comparison.
She pulls Kiki into a quick hug before stepping back with a bright smile. “I’m so thrilled to meet you.” Then she turns to me, plants her hands on her hips, and grins. “All right, big man, I’m ready for the grand tour.”
Oh boy. This one’s trouble.
I gesture toward the living room. “Right this way. But be careful where you step.”
I lead the group through the house, winding around discarded furniture and half-finished repairs.
Nolan asks a myriad of questions throughout the tour, bouncing between me and Kiki as we move from room to room. The man seems to know exactly what he wants, and he’s got a solid grasp on period architecture, which always helps.
The more they know, the less I have to teach them.
By the time we circle back to the foyer, Nolan is damn near bursting with excitement.
“I have a very specific method in which I want this renovation done,” he states, sweeping his hands around like he’s directing a movie.
Can’t wait to hear this.
“I want this completed in steps.”
So far, so good, considering that was my plan all along.
“I want each room completely finished. Soup to nuts. There are fifteen rooms in the house, so let’s start with six—living room, dining area, kitchen, main foyer, a bedroom, and a bath.
And we’ve officially gone off the rails.
Kiki and I exchange a look.
What the hell kind of nonsense is this guy spouting?
I step forward, my hands raised and my voice low like I’m approaching a growling dog. “To be honest, that’s not how we structure a restoration. Normally, you tackle each phase across the whole house—plumbing, wiring, sheetrock. It’s the fastest, safest, and cheapest way to do it.”
“Cost isn’t the issue,” Nolan cuts in. “I’m aware it shies a bit from the norm, but I want to see progress on my visits. I don’t want to walk into a house that’s all studs and sheetrock dust. I want a finished bathroom, a finished bedroom, a finished nook. I want to watch this house come to life piece by piece.”
Low murmurs ripple through the crew, which Nolan picks up on immediately.
He pins me with a sharp gaze. “It is possible, isn’t it?”
Translation: If I can’t do it, he’ll find someone who can.
I run a hand over my jaw, chin lifting once in acknowledgment. “Anything is possible. It’s just going to take longer to go room by room like that.”
“I don’t care about that,” he replies, waving off my concerns. “This is my new home. An investment. A legacy, perhaps.”
Whatever you say, boss.
“One last thing.” He starts toward one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, then pivots on his heel and points at Kiki. “You need to be here every day.”
That gets my attention.
“What for?” I demand. “My guys don’t need a babysitter.”
Nolan chuckles. “Of course not, but you two are a team. You created this vision together. I don’t need Kiki on a ladder swinging a hammer, but I need her present every day, because great art requires collaboration. You don’t make a film withoutthe full crew there. You need everyone—your actors, your cinematographers, your designers, your director. That’s how you capture the magic.”
Is this man really babbling on about magic? Christ almighty.
“Unless…” Nolan runs a finger along a dusty windowsill, then rubs the dust away against his thumb. “You have a problem with Kiki being on-site every day?”
