his hair, which was already standing in dark tufts, as if he’d been tearing at it. “She says the living room in the original spec is too big and she wants to divide it into a front parlor and a back parlor. I explained that if she does that, the front parlor isn’t going to have a window in it. She’s trying to figure out how to put one in.”
“Put a window in?” Ned’s gaze circled the loft. “Opening onto what? The back half of the living room?”
“Talk to her. She won’t listen to me.”
Ned let out a breath. The hardest part of home renovation work was dealing with insane clients who believed their riches could buy anything, even a wall with a window that opened onto nothing.
He had already dealt with one woman today—a woman who’d hinted that she might be crazy, but seemed remarkably sane to him. He couldn’t imagine Libby Kimmelman demanding an exterior window on an interior wall. He also couldn’t imagine her injecting her lips full of whatever it was that made Macie Colwyn’s lips look as if someone had whacked her hard on the mouth. And Libby Kimmelman clearly hadn’t injected her forehead with Botox, given the worry lines that creased it.
What had she been worried about? he wondered. Breaking the news to Ned that his boy wouldn’t be able to attend Hudson, or just the challenge of dealing with unwanted bouquets of flowers?
Mitch raked his fingers through his hair again, a gesturethat forced Ned’s thoughts back to the challenge at hand. Ned had to try to fix things. It was his job.
Tossing his jacket into a corner on the dusty subfloor, he strode over to the table where Macie stood before the un-scrolled floor plan, studying it as if it were a biblical artifact, written in Aramaic so she couldn’t read it. “Mitch says you’ve got an idea about breaking the living room into two rooms,” he said.
She peered up at him. Her eyes were ringed with smudgy black liner and her hair, cut in layers that reminded him a little of an artichoke, had a purple undertone. She smelled like some kind of herb. Given his lack of culinary expertise, he couldn’t identify it, but it reminded him of Thai food. “I understand that redoing the design will add to the expense,” she said. “That’s not a problem.”
“No, it’s not,” Ned agreed. Every damn change she demanded, from wall moldings to light fixtures to backsplash tiles in the kitchen, would add to the expense, and Mitch would happily bill her for it. “The problem is, if you put a wall up in the middle of the living room—” he pointed to that section of the blueprint “—you’ll wind up with a room without a window. Not only will it be gloomy, but you might have building code problems.” He wasn’t sure about the Manhattan building codes, but mentioning them might be enough to scare her away from her idiotic notion about the new wall.
“Who would we have to pay to make those problems go away?” she asked.
He had no idea. He hadn’t been working in New York long enough to know the ins and outs of local corruption. “I’m not sure all building inspectors are on the take,” he fudged. “You offer payment to the one honest guy and you’ll wind up…” He concluded with a shrug, letting the threat remain unspoken. “But there are other ways to break up theliving room,” he continued, before she could grill him on the sentencing guidelines for bribing public officials. “For instance, we could put in a broad arch here.” He indicated the midpoint of the living room on the floor plan. “Something wide enough to let natural light flow throughout the entire room, but it would still break the room up for you. Another possibility would be columns.”
“Columns?”
“You know. Like pillars.”
“Ooh, columns!” Her face lit up. “Like the Parthenon. Could we get Corinthian columns?”
“Whatever style you want. I’d have to check with Mitch on suppliers, but I’m sure we could get Corinthian columns, if that’s
“Put a window in?” Ned’s gaze circled the loft. “Opening onto what? The back half of the living room?”
“Talk to her. She won’t listen to me.”
Ned let out a breath. The hardest part of home renovation work was dealing with insane clients who believed their riches could buy anything, even a wall with a window that opened onto nothing.
He had already dealt with one woman today—a woman who’d hinted that she might be crazy, but seemed remarkably sane to him. He couldn’t imagine Libby Kimmelman demanding an exterior window on an interior wall. He also couldn’t imagine her injecting her lips full of whatever it was that made Macie Colwyn’s lips look as if someone had whacked her hard on the mouth. And Libby Kimmelman clearly hadn’t injected her forehead with Botox, given the worry lines that creased it.
What had she been worried about? he wondered. Breaking the news to Ned that his boy wouldn’t be able to attend Hudson, or just the challenge of dealing with unwanted bouquets of flowers?
Mitch raked his fingers through his hair again, a gesturethat forced Ned’s thoughts back to the challenge at hand. Ned had to try to fix things. It was his job.
Tossing his jacket into a corner on the dusty subfloor, he strode over to the table where Macie stood before the un-scrolled floor plan, studying it as if it were a biblical artifact, written in Aramaic so she couldn’t read it. “Mitch says you’ve got an idea about breaking the living room into two rooms,” he said.
She peered up at him. Her eyes were ringed with smudgy black liner and her hair, cut in layers that reminded him a little of an artichoke, had a purple undertone. She smelled like some kind of herb. Given his lack of culinary expertise, he couldn’t identify it, but it reminded him of Thai food. “I understand that redoing the design will add to the expense,” she said. “That’s not a problem.”
“No, it’s not,” Ned agreed. Every damn change she demanded, from wall moldings to light fixtures to backsplash tiles in the kitchen, would add to the expense, and Mitch would happily bill her for it. “The problem is, if you put a wall up in the middle of the living room—” he pointed to that section of the blueprint “—you’ll wind up with a room without a window. Not only will it be gloomy, but you might have building code problems.” He wasn’t sure about the Manhattan building codes, but mentioning them might be enough to scare her away from her idiotic notion about the new wall.
“Who would we have to pay to make those problems go away?” she asked.
He had no idea. He hadn’t been working in New York long enough to know the ins and outs of local corruption. “I’m not sure all building inspectors are on the take,” he fudged. “You offer payment to the one honest guy and you’ll wind up…” He concluded with a shrug, letting the threat remain unspoken. “But there are other ways to break up theliving room,” he continued, before she could grill him on the sentencing guidelines for bribing public officials. “For instance, we could put in a broad arch here.” He indicated the midpoint of the living room on the floor plan. “Something wide enough to let natural light flow throughout the entire room, but it would still break the room up for you. Another possibility would be columns.”
“Columns?”
“You know. Like pillars.”
“Ooh, columns!” Her face lit up. “Like the Parthenon. Could we get Corinthian columns?”
“Whatever style you want. I’d have to check with Mitch on suppliers, but I’m sure we could get Corinthian columns, if that’s
Similar Books
