Aras set the plate down on the nearest table, then looked around. “I really should get to work.”
“This is work.” Mason set another box down in the pile, then put his hands on his hips. “Don’t invent work for yourself. You already cleared the electrical for this place, and until you and Ev figure out what to do with the light fixtures, I don’t think you have anything else.” Mason patted him on the shoulder. “No one else here knows anything about carnival glass. You may as well be the one to handle it.”
Aras’s jaw tightened and Dane saw the annoyance building inside of him. He still didn’t understand what exactly triggered Aras—a lot of the time, it seemed to be everything—but he’d spent a shameful amount of time watching Aras, so he knew when it was building to an eruption.
Dane stepped up and touched Aras’s other shoulder, not really knowing what he was doing. “Until they pull me away, I wouldn’t mind learning about this carnival glass stuff. After I bent your ear talking about my weird model making.”
And Aras’s jaw actually loosened. He nodded, then went over and grabbed two chairs. Before he sat down, he looked over at Kyle. “You need Dane here for anything?”
“Not now. As long as he’s helping with the job.” He looked across the way at Dane. “Stay on the level.”
Dane didn’t know what that was about, or why Kyle thought hespecificallyneeded that warning. But he didn’t need to address that. He could just leave it to fester for the moment.
Chapter eight
Aras
HeavyIrispitcherinblue. Fine Cut and Roses bowl in smoke, one in marigold, and three in purple. Three different Rustic funeral vases: a green, a white, and an electric blue, which Aras wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before, even in pictures. He spent a little more time than was probably good to admit trolling the major carnival glass auction houses—there were three or four who specialized, mostly in the Midwest—and while that, plus his own collecting, had given him plenty of knowledge base, this was easily the most intensive hour he’d spent in regards to carnival glass. And somehow, most of her pieces were pristine. She had some normal wear and tear—anything with feet typically had nicks in the toes, the holes that held the lilies on the epergnes almost always had chipping, and the bases of her three complete punch bowl sets had minor bruising—but it was largely impeccable.
Dane had been pulled away for some lighting work—which Aras tried not to be annoyed about—but they were still going an hour into the unpacking. Aras gently set down a particularly delicate open-edge basket in ice blue, then looked over at Caroline. “How the absolute hell did you keep all this stuff so nice?”
“It never got used.” She shrugged, pulling out…no, it couldn’t be. But Aras saw it was, in fact, a fourth rustic funeral vase, this one in purple.
He shook his head. “Well, we’ll get it displayed here. As much or as little as you want.” She would probably need one entire room just for the spare pieces, but she could make use of at least some of the stuff. Dresser sets, table sets, vases, that sort of thing. She had more than enough options for Evander to choose from.
Caroline sighed after setting the fourth vase up on the table next to the others. “We don’t have to go through everything right now if you don’t want. I’m sure you have other work to do.”
Did she not want him there? His attitude probably rubbed her more wrong than he’d assumed. He wanted to stay, of course, but he wasn’t going to stick around if she was uncomfortable. And, as he weighed everything in his mind, he realized he’d probably fucked up asking her about the quality of the pieces.Obviouslyshe hadn’t been able to display them when she was married. That was the whole crux of this job. So of course they’d be in excellent shape. She’d done a great job of storing them.
Aras sighed. “I actually do need to take a look around, get some measurements, maybe start talking to the others about how to get everything lit.” Which was true, although he couldn’t do very much without more of an idea, and that was slow-going until they went through her whole collection. But she deserved her privacy. “If you need any help, flag someone down.” He walked away, but stopped after two steps. “Also, if you happen to come across any Poppy Show pieces in your collection, I’d, uh, appreciate a chance to look at them.” It was the one old pattern that he really pursued like crazy, but they also went for nutso prices most of the time.
She nodded. “I think I have some? But I’m going to be honest, I don’t know for sure.”
Aras nodded, then turned around and headed outside. It made sense. He’d run intosomeoneout there who could give him something new to do. And if not, he could look at the outdoor light fixtures and see what needed doing. Plus, he would need to find a good solution for the driveway. There was no way in hell that simple lantern sconce by the front door would illuminate the driveway.
“Aras!”
On cue. Someone found him. He tried not to resent it, but he was annoyed with himself for not being able to keep control, and for making Caroline feel awkward. So he knew he was scowling when Ozzy walked up to him. “What do you need?”
“Backyard patio situation, actually. I want to make it usable and smell nice and be really flowery. Which I can do all that. But I want something that evokes fairy lights without looking like college dorm room leftovers.”
“Don’t malign my fairy lights.” They were gauche as hell, actually, and Aras would never be caught dead using them in a professional design. But he’d also held onto them way after he’d known better in his own apartment. “Let’s head back. Can’t do anything if I don’t see it.” Which meant going back the way he’d just come. “Any good reason this place doesn’t have a gate between the two yards?”
“Not exactly designed for intense outdoor living. What would be the point?”
They headed in, and Aras muttered, “I don’t know, fucking convenience?”
They strode past the tables, festooned with multicolored, shimmering glass. It truly was beautiful, and his mind swam with a hundred different possibilities at once. Shelves with built-in lighting. Individual sconces like paintings in a museum. Built-in functionality to switch to black light—she had some Vaseline glass and some lime green pieces in the mix, and they would fluoresce. If he could get Evander to see the vision, and not be a stubborn butthole about it, maybe they could forgo the typical lighting altogether and make do with a bunch of tiny lights. The more different light sources, the most action they could squeeze out of the iridescence on her collection.
Aras squeezed his eyes shut and dug his fingernails into his palm as they walked out the back door. Much as he might like to, it wasn’t feasible to design theentirehouse around displaying carnival glass. Caroline still needed it to function, and maybe to havesomeresale value. A bunch of disparate, hardwired lighting solutions would appeal to almost no one.
Out in the back yard, there was certainly a lot more work going on than in the front, or really than inside. The grass had been in poor shape, so Ozzy had apparently ordered the whole thing tilled. Weeds made up a tiny pile, and Robinson was consulting with someone else around the frost-free faucet in the corner, where a hose had already been hooked up to a pressure washer.
Ozzy spread his arms wide, gesturing to the simple concrete slab patio. “I want to hem it in with some low maintenance flowering bushes. I’m thinking hydrangea, but I kind of want to do butterfly bushes. We’ll see. Probably hydrangeas.”
“Fascinating. Glad I can be here for your brainstorming.”
Ozzy rolled his eyes. “Whatever I pick, I’ll make sure it’s resistant to whatever bug crawled up your ass.”
