Just a few minutes ago, she'd started out by telling me how much fun she'd had in California. She hadn't mentioned Brody by name, but the implication had been obvious.
According to Waverly, "Everyone had a lovely time."I didn't believe it.From what I'd seen of Brody, his trip had been anything but lovely. Still, Waverly's claims were making a bad situation even worse, especially when she dropped her latest bombshell – one related to the show.
With obvious delight, she'd just informed me that the show was bringing back Miss LaRue to consult on the house across the street.
I felt my brow wrinkle in confusion. "But the house already has a consultant."
"You?" Waverly laughed. "But you're hardly a professional."
She was right. I wasn't.But I hadn't been hired for my professional design skills. I'd been hired for my connection to the place.
Miss LaRuehadno connection, as she so aptly proved during the very next week by suggesting so many odd changes, they kept me in a constant state of panic.
Thankfully, very few of her ideas were actually implemented, whether because Brody kept overruling her, or because her ideas would've thrown everything off schedule.
For starters, she'd wanted to tear down the front porch and replace it with something called a "welcoming deck" – whateverthatwas.
It didn't matter.
After much debate – and not all of it friendly – the idea was vetoed by Brody personally.
Thank God.
Still, her presence was throwing everything off-kilter. She and I constantly disagreed – sometimes quite loudly – which made Roy positively orgasmic whenever he happened to catch us in mid-argument.
This happened at least once a day. By the second week, I felt ready to pop.
But it wasn't Miss LaRue – or even Roy with his camera – that was making it hard for me to get up in the morning or to fall asleep at night.
It was Brody.
Supposedly, he and I were still working together. But in reality, we avoided each other whenever we could. We never talked, unless we absolutely had to. And even those conversations were short and tense under the constant glare of Roy's video camera.
And yet, there were times when I'd happen to round a corner and nearly collide with Brody face-to-face. Or even worse, I'd sometimes find myself alone with him in the same empty room.
It was inthosetimes that everything still felt unfinished.
And I didn't mean with the house.
Judging from Brody's dark demeanor, he wasn't any happier than I was.
As for the source of his unhappiness, it was impossible to say. Maybe he was just unhappy that I hadn't quit already.
I'd actually considered it.
But whether it was because I needed the money, or because I was determined to finish what I'd started, I kept on going, even when I didn't feel like it, which was almost all of the time.
I was explaining all of this to Cami on the phone when she said, "Just admit it. You're staying because of him."
"I am not," I said. "I'm staying because I can't afford to quit." I frowned. "And because if I leave, Miss LaRue will probably have the house painted puce or something."
"Puce?"
"It's this purple-brownish color." I gave a little shudder. "Get this. She wanted to use it on the kitchen ceiling."
"A brown ceiling? You're kidding, right?"
"I wish." I forced a laugh. "But forget that. We're not supposed to be talking aboutme. We're supposed to be talking aboutyou."
