My Own Mr. Darcy (26 page)

Both teams were tired and
the only score in the first three minutes was a free throw. During the last two
minutes, Washington scored five points and Oregon scored four, leaving the
score tied. “No, please! Someone score. Anyone. Not another overtime,” Chad
said.

“They obviously don’t care
about us,” I said.

“I know. This is our
reward for being loyal fans?” The second overtime ended in a tie. “I feel bad,”
Chad said. “We really should be painting.”

“I should never have
suggested we watch the second half. I’ve totally jinxed us. We can’t give up on
them now,” I said. “We must fight with them to the end.”

Chad grinned at me and we
started the third overtime.

Thankfully, the game ended
when the buzzer sounded. Sadly, it was Washington who won by four.

“Well, that wasn’t worth
it,” Chad said as we made our way back to the living room.

“But it was fun,” I said.

“Yeah, it was.”

We had to throw away our
crusty paint rollers and replace them with new ones, but I didn’t mind. I
didn’t even mind the loss. I’d just had more fun than I’d had in a long time.

We finished the job at
about two in the morning. We were both tired but our spirits were good. “You’re
a knight in shining armor, you know that?” I asked Chad.

“I know. I’ve been
thinking of trading in my Camry for a white horse.”

“And your jeans for some
chainmail. Seriously, Chad. Thank you.”

“No problem. Have a fun
day tomorrow with your family.”

“I will,” I said.

As I drove home, I
replayed the day in my mind. It wasn’t until later I realized that as the day
played through my head like a movie, Matt’s phone call had ended up on the
cutting room floor.

THE NEXT FEW
days were among the most exhilarating of my life. I was doing
what I’d dreamed of for years. When I met the first contractor, I felt like an
imposter as I discussed the floor with him. By the third day, my butterflies
were gone as I gave instructions and answered questions easily. I felt like a
real professional.

While contractors worked,
I unwrapped my order of specialty fabrics, set up my sewing machine on the
table in the breakfast nook, and began sewing. The fabrics were breathtaking.
The teal dupioni silk was rich and substantial and when I turned it in the
light and it caught the subtle orange shot, I stifled a giggle. It was
fabulous.

For three days I sewed
while contractors contracted. While a crew put in the wood floors and built a
surround for the fireplace, I made drapes for the windows. While the
electrician installed two beautiful chrome and glass light fixtures and two
wall sconces, I sewed pillows. One of the design finds that made me happiest was
those wall sconces. They were frosted glass half orbs that had tiny orange
veining running through them. Such a perfect little hint of orange. It made me
want to squeal.

I loved the drapes and
laid the long panels carefully across the guest room bed. In the subdued
lighting, the teal was darker and the hint of orange was indiscernible. I liked
how the colors would change as the lighting shifted throughout the day.

I made two pillows of
three different fabrics. The two biggest pillows were a nobby, solid orange.
Two more were a large print, orange and cream houndstooth. My favorite two were
cream linen with leaves embroidered in orange. Once I’d stuffed them with the
down pillow forms and plumped them up, they looked like they belonged in a
magazine. I was so proud of them, I wanted to show them off, but I was pretty
sure the tattooed electrician and his long-haired, overly pierced,
toothpick-chewing assistant probably didn’t care much about pillows. I put them
in the guest room to await their placement on the chairs and couch.

I’d installed a glass tile
backsplash while I was in school, but as I stood in front of the fireplace, my
stomach knotted up. I didn’t miss the white painted brick that had been there
before. The carpenter had built a beautiful surround. The mantle was made of a
solid slab of wood twelve inches deep and three inches thick that was mounted
into the wall. When I was finished with the tile work, I’d give it a coating of
glossy, ecru paint. I knew how I wanted it to look. I could picture it in my
mind. But I’d never tackled such a big tile project before—floor to ceiling
glass tile strips in random shades of teal and cream.

I held up one of the mesh
squares. Strips of glass stuck out of the sides and it felt heavy in my hand.
Some of the glass was frosted and some had a shiny finish. I loved it. I
couldn’t wait to get started.

I laid out plastic to protect
the dark wood floor from the adhesive and carried in the heavy boxes of tiles.
The last box I brought in held the shorter strips I’d use to fill in the ends.
The bucket of adhesive felt like it weighed as much as a small horse, but after
stopping a few times to rest my trembling muscles, I finally got it to the work
area. Three hours later, I had the sides of the fireplace up to the mantle
covered in the gorgeous tile.

I carried the ladder in
from the garage and began on the wall above the mantle. This part was both
harder and easier—harder because of climbing up and down on the ladder, but
easier because there was no fireplace opening and there were only two edges to
cut for instead of four. By late afternoon, the tile was up.

I moved the ladder to the
other side of the room and stepped back to look at the wall. It was beautiful,
even breathtaking. I was so proud of myself. Tomorrow was Saturday. I was
halfway to the deadline and all the contract work was finished. I’d add the
grout to the tile and paint the mantle and the fireplace would be complete. I’d
clean the rooms out and have them ready to begin furnishing next week.

I felt good—tired and dirty
but wow, look what I’d just done. I locked up the house and drove home to take
a long, hot bath.

I let the warm tub water
soothe my aching muscles. When the water cooled down, I’d nudge the hot water
faucet with my foot until a hot trickle poured in by my feet. When my shins
couldn’t stand it anymore, I’d nudge the tap and turn it off. I’d nearly fallen
asleep when my phone rang. The water sloshed as I reached over the side of the
tub and pulled my phone out of my pocket. I hoped it was Matt since he hadn’t
called last night.

It was Janessa.

“Hey, Lizzie, are you
still working?”

“Nope. I’m napping in the
tub.”

“I’m glad I called you.
Ben and I are at Paco’s. We’re just picking up some fish tacos and heading
home.”

“I guess I’d better get
out of the tub then. I’d rather not be stuck in the bathroom all evening.”

“Ben wants to watch the
newest Mission Impossible. I know it’s not quite like BBC but you’re welcome to
join us.”

“Maybe I will. I could use
something that doesn’t make me use my brain. Thanks.”

“Sure. Do you want us to
pick you up something to eat?”

“Fish tacos sound great.
Could you get me a couple?”

“Sure thing. We’ll be home
in ten or fifteen minutes.”

Reluctantly, I left the
warmth of the tub and pulled on some flannel pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt.

Janessa and Ben came home
with a whirlwind of activity and enough noise for ten. A cheerful energy
surrounded them as they talked and laughed and banged noisily through the
kitchen gathering plates, glasses for lemonade and napkins. They teased each
other, interrupted each other and finished each other’s sentences. I loved
watching them. If only Las Vegas were posting odds on whether Ben and Janessa
would get married. If they did, I’d have a pretty good chance at making some
money.

We ate crunchy fish tacos
while we watched Tom Cruise pretend to be smart and athletic and twenty years
younger than his actual age. The movie was just so-so but Janessa and Ben’s
observations kept me laughing.

“I’m heading to bed,” I
said when the credits began to roll. I left them debating over whether there
was any discernible difference between this movie and the first three.

I thought about calling
Matt since he hadn’t called me, but then decided I wasn’t in the mood to hear
Meg laughing in the background, so I plugged my phone into its charger on my
nightstand and went to bed.

Sometime after I fell
asleep I had a bad dream. In the dream I was unrolling the rug for the Keller’s
living room. Somehow I unrolled it with all the furniture in place. I was
horrified to see that the rug was purple. It looked terrible with the rest of
the room. Mr. Castinello, the instructor who’d taught about colors said, “These
colors are not complimentary, Elizabeth. I’m afraid I have to fail you on this
project.” I tried to pick up the rug but I couldn’t get it out from under the
furniture.

The sound of my phone
chirping brought me happily back to reality. Even better, it was Matt.

“Hi, stranger,” I said,
rubbing my eyes to remove the haze of sleep.

“I know. I’m so sorry. By
the time I finished working last night it was after midnight and I didn’t want
to wake you up.”

“That’s okay.”

“Oh no. I just woke you
up, didn’t I?”

“I don’t mind. I want to
talk to you.”

“You do? Is everything
okay?”

I laughed. “Yes.
Everything’s fine. I just want to talk to you.” I sat up a little and adjusted
the pillow behind me. “Tell me about your day.”

Matt laughed. “I’m not
sure you want to hear about today.”

“Of course I do.”

“Well, today we nearly
came to blows. Meg didn’t like what the designer was doing in the Women’s
Fiction room, and she wanted Alan to fix it. He told Meg if she didn’t like it
to fix it and talk to the woman herself. When the designer left for lunch, Alan
and Meg started arguing and even started calling each other names. I tried to
get them to work it out and the next thing I knew, they were both turning on
me.”

“Oh no. You all must need
a break from each other,” I said.

“That’s for sure. I told
them I was heading home and left.”

“Did you come home?” I
asked.

“No. I ended up going back
and luckily things were calmed down but I was tempted.”

“Too bad,” I said.

“I know. I wish I was
home. I’m coming home the first part of next week.”

“Oh good. It seems like
you’ve been gone so long.”

“How are things at your
job?”

“Much better than yours since
I don’t have anyone to argue with.”

“What did you do today?”
Matt asked.

“Today I tiled the
fireplace. Tomorrow I’ll grout it. You should see it. It’s so pretty. It’s
glass tile and it goes from the floor to the ceiling. I love it.”

“You did it yourself?”

“Yep.”

“That’s pretty impressive,
Elizabeth.”

“I’d love for you to see
it. Do you think you can stop by sometime after you get back so I can show you
what I’ve done?”

“I’d like that. Just text
me the address and when I have a few minutes I’ll stop by.” I felt a surge of
pleasure. I wanted him to appreciate what I was doing and once the fireplace
was grouted, there was no way he’d be able to look at it and not be proud of
me. “I miss you, Elizabeth. I’m not just saying this to make you upset, but I
wish I’d have hired you to be our designer just so you could have come up here
with me. I’ve been thinking about you all week.”