the world to her. She had to hold on to it.
"What can I do for you?" Steven asked curtly. She struggled to gaze back at him with equanimity.
"You really ought to do something about this place. It has no flair at all."
The barest trace of a smile crossed his mouth. "Did you actually come here to redecorate my office?"
"I wanted to talk to you about your house. It's really coming along well, isn't it?" she asked brightly. He drummed his fingers on the large, featureless desk. He looked powerful and dynamic, his hair springing back from his forehead in the way she found so appealing.
"Every wall half-painted," he said. "Stacks of tiles in my bathtub. Curtains all over the chairs but none on the windows. You haven't finished one single room!"
"I'm glad you brought up that point, Steven. You see, I work with an overall scheme in mind. It's very important to stay in keeping with the entire spirit of the house."
"The place isn't haunted. You don't have to pacify any ghosts."
"Well, the house does have a history. We can't ignore that."
"Of course not," he muttered. "We wouldn't want to just paint the damn thing and be done with it."
She smiled at him but he didn't smile back.
"Kate, I assume there's a point to all this."
She sighed. Steven wasn't making things easy for her. It wasn't as though she'd
wanted
to come here today. She didn't have any other choice, that was all. Poking through her briefcase, she extracted a slightly wrinkled sheet of paper. She pushed it across the desk toward him.
"There. I wanted you to see exactly what I've spent so far. I wanted you to have the whole picture."
He scowled down at the sheet of paper.
"Are you serious? It takes that many cans of paint to come up with 'persimmon pink'? I hate pink."
"I'm using it very judiciously—as an accent color."
"Why the hell did you buy me a wok? And I don't need a chandelier."
"Yes, you do. It's going to look wonderful in the dining room, all those prisms of glass capturing the light! I can hardly wait until it's up."
Steven did not seem to share her enthusiasm. "What's this about more carpentry work?" he demanded. "You told me you were only going to have a few repairs done."
"I know you'll be happy with all the extra shelf space that's being put in. And I think one of the carpenters has a crush on Paula. His name is Jerry and he's very enterprising." Kate saw from the expression on Steven's face that this information wasn't going over too well. In fact, the entire discussion wasn't proceeding as planned. She had wanted to prove to Steven that she knew exactly where his money had gone, and that each expenditure was completely justified. But somehow she didn't seem to be getting this across to him. She decided to plunge right ahead.
"You see, Steven, the house has required a greater initial outlay than I anticipated. I'll therefore have to request… an additional amount of money from you." She pushed another sheet of paper toward him, this one smudged from a great deal of figuring, erasing and more figuring. "You can see it all right here. I'll need to purchase more furnishings, of course, and settle up with the carpenters. By the way, I'm sure you'll agree that I'm being very reasonable about the fee for all my extra time." She felt triumphant now that the words were out, but Steven's expression still wasn't encouraging.
"You signed an agreement with me, Kate. I'm not obligated to hand over one more cent to you until the job is finished."
"Things have evolved since then!" she protested.
"Is this how you usually operate your business?" he asked in a quiet but steely tone. "You renege on agreements and buy woks for people who don't want them?"
"Your house is a special case," she returned. "I've never encountered such neglect before. Besides, you have to see the difference between the letter of the law and the spirit of it—"
"Spirits again! Let's stick with facts here," he interrupted. "For one thing, who does your books?"
"I handle my
"What can I do for you?" Steven asked curtly. She struggled to gaze back at him with equanimity.
"You really ought to do something about this place. It has no flair at all."
The barest trace of a smile crossed his mouth. "Did you actually come here to redecorate my office?"
"I wanted to talk to you about your house. It's really coming along well, isn't it?" she asked brightly. He drummed his fingers on the large, featureless desk. He looked powerful and dynamic, his hair springing back from his forehead in the way she found so appealing.
"Every wall half-painted," he said. "Stacks of tiles in my bathtub. Curtains all over the chairs but none on the windows. You haven't finished one single room!"
"I'm glad you brought up that point, Steven. You see, I work with an overall scheme in mind. It's very important to stay in keeping with the entire spirit of the house."
"The place isn't haunted. You don't have to pacify any ghosts."
"Well, the house does have a history. We can't ignore that."
"Of course not," he muttered. "We wouldn't want to just paint the damn thing and be done with it."
She smiled at him but he didn't smile back.
"Kate, I assume there's a point to all this."
She sighed. Steven wasn't making things easy for her. It wasn't as though she'd
wanted
to come here today. She didn't have any other choice, that was all. Poking through her briefcase, she extracted a slightly wrinkled sheet of paper. She pushed it across the desk toward him.
"There. I wanted you to see exactly what I've spent so far. I wanted you to have the whole picture."
He scowled down at the sheet of paper.
"Are you serious? It takes that many cans of paint to come up with 'persimmon pink'? I hate pink."
"I'm using it very judiciously—as an accent color."
"Why the hell did you buy me a wok? And I don't need a chandelier."
"Yes, you do. It's going to look wonderful in the dining room, all those prisms of glass capturing the light! I can hardly wait until it's up."
Steven did not seem to share her enthusiasm. "What's this about more carpentry work?" he demanded. "You told me you were only going to have a few repairs done."
"I know you'll be happy with all the extra shelf space that's being put in. And I think one of the carpenters has a crush on Paula. His name is Jerry and he's very enterprising." Kate saw from the expression on Steven's face that this information wasn't going over too well. In fact, the entire discussion wasn't proceeding as planned. She had wanted to prove to Steven that she knew exactly where his money had gone, and that each expenditure was completely justified. But somehow she didn't seem to be getting this across to him. She decided to plunge right ahead.
"You see, Steven, the house has required a greater initial outlay than I anticipated. I'll therefore have to request… an additional amount of money from you." She pushed another sheet of paper toward him, this one smudged from a great deal of figuring, erasing and more figuring. "You can see it all right here. I'll need to purchase more furnishings, of course, and settle up with the carpenters. By the way, I'm sure you'll agree that I'm being very reasonable about the fee for all my extra time." She felt triumphant now that the words were out, but Steven's expression still wasn't encouraging.
"You signed an agreement with me, Kate. I'm not obligated to hand over one more cent to you until the job is finished."
"Things have evolved since then!" she protested.
"Is this how you usually operate your business?" he asked in a quiet but steely tone. "You renege on agreements and buy woks for people who don't want them?"
"Your house is a special case," she returned. "I've never encountered such neglect before. Besides, you have to see the difference between the letter of the law and the spirit of it—"
"Spirits again! Let's stick with facts here," he interrupted. "For one thing, who does your books?"
"I handle my
Similar Books
