Izzy was beginning to wonder about Marlowe’s new friend Gabby. The Quinns were just regular people. Nothing fancy or stuck up about them. Some of these ideas? Well, they hurt her heart. She pressed her right hand against it. Right now her heart was thudding to a Ringo Starr beat.
Chapter Ten
ISABEL
Chase Wilson’s truck had just disappeared around the corner when a red pickup pulled up. The truck was not probably as new as Chase’s shiny model but its built-in tool chests looked they’d been used for hard work. Noon and Izzy was already exhausted. But she put on a smile. This time she’d pretend she was Marlowe, with a swagger in her step and absolutely no time for listening to a guy tear down her family home.
Moving to the top of the stairs, she waved and hoped she looked welcoming. But she nearly lost her footing and had to grab the railing. Boy, that metal was cold. She jerked her hand away fast. Izzy chuckled, picturing herself falling flat on her face. That’s just what her family needed right now. Izzy with a broken leg.
The wind caught the longish hair of the guy who swung out of the truck. He wore a bulky corduroy jacket, jeans and leather work gloves. Nothing about him looked new and a strange reassurance filled her. A yellow pad was tucked under one arm. “Hi, you must be Izzy,” he said as he took the steps two at a time. His jacket hung open, like he was daring the cold weather to take him down.
“Yes, come in,” Izzy said, scrambling back onto the porch. They both escaped into the warmth of the house. He immediately kicked off his boots and stood there in thick gray socks.
Taking off his gloves, he extended one hand. “I'm Seth Barrett. Thank you for inviting me to bid on your project.”
Lizzy sucked in a breath and took his hand. “Thanks for coming.”
The handshake was short and warm. Seth was busy looking around the front hall. “This house sure has beautiful bones. I've driven past it a ton of times. Always wondered who lived here.”
Izzy smiled, liking him immediately. “Do you know most of the people in Charlevoix?”
“Some of the old families. My family's been here for a long time. We're up in Petoskey.”
Seth was relaxed and curious. Izzy began to feel that way too. Staying in her Marlowe mode, she took him through the same tour she'd gone through with Chase Wilson. This time she rattled off information as if she was a realtor, selling the place. Izzy gave him no time for responses that might hold words like “relic” or “demolition.”
Seth made no comment about the Christmas tree and decorations. But when they passed the steps, he fingered one of the holiday cards and smiled. “My mom still does her stairway like this.”
Izzy took that as an approval and led him into the kitchen. Then she held her breath.What would Marlowe say now?This room with its peeling linoleum and battered cupboards was a disaster.
Seth glanced around and when he smiled, laugh lines radiated from his brown eyes. “I’ll bet a lot of pies have been baked in this kitchen.” His voice was warm with anticipation, as if he’d like a slice right now.
How amazing. Tears came to her eyes. But she was trying to be like Marlowe and her big sister almost never cried. Not that Izzy saw, anyway. Izzy swallowed hard and thought about her mother’s apple pie. She could almost smell the cinnamon and she wanted Seth to smell it too. “Yes, my mother loved to bake. Her crusts were light as a feather, that’s what my daddy always said. And she used a lot of cinnamon. Nutmeg too.”
Seth turned to her as if he was lapping up her words with a big fork, tasting the flaky crust, the aromatic spices and the tart apples Izzy would peel and slice for her mom. “This year my sisters and I baked a lot of Christmas cookies with my aunt.” She smiled, remembering. A tin of cookies still sat in the pantry. She wasn’t going to tell him that her aunt often bought tubes of cookie dough to hurry the process along.
Sometimes at night, she heard Aunt Cate down here, making brownies for the next day. Like her cookies, Aunt Cate often baked brownies from a box but Izzy didn’t care. Piper smelled the chocolate too. Lifting her head from where she was curled up at Izzy’s feet, she’d give a low growl of longing until Izzy quieted her down.
The enticing smell of chocolate would drift up the stairs, and Izzy had to explain to her pet that chocolate was not good for dogs. In the morning, she’d hand Piper a dog biscuit while she nibbled one of those brownies with Aunt Cate. They’d decided that chocolate was a vegetable.
“So you want to update the kitchen?” Seth’s voice broke into her dreams.
“Yes, definitely and we're open to any ideas.” Izzy straightened her shoulders, trying to think like Marlowe. What had she heard her sister say? “An island or whatever.”Whatever?Chase had suggested a lot ofwhateversand she hadn’t been thrilled with his ideas.
A thoughtful smile on his face, Seth was busy running a hand over the outdated formica counter. Then he reached up and flipped open a chipped cabinet door. “Sure, we can talk about options. If I take this project on, I usually donate any cabinets to Habitat for Humanity, with the owner’s approval of course. These cabinets are old but still useful.”
“That would be great.” She loved the idea of the cabinets being of use to someone. Chase’s word “demolition” had left a bad taste in her mouth. Her parents would probably totally approve of giving these old cabinets to Habitat for Humanity. “A lot of the knobs are off. We never had time to replace them.”Am I apologizing again?Izzy mentally kicked herself. Marlowe never apologized.
“Knobs aren’t a problem. Those are easy enough for my men to fix or replace.”
As they walked around the house, Seth threw out ideas but always seemed to wait for her input. “Are you planning on working with a decorator?” he asked when they got to the dining room. “I'm just wondering about these plate railings and the wainscoting. Stuff like that.”
“Decorator? I think so. This is kind of a group project. I hope you’re open to that.” Had she actually said that? Seth was such a nice guy and seemed easy to work with. She didn’t want to scare him off. Would he mind that they would make joint decisions?
“A family project. That’s great.” He paused, running a hand over the wallpaper. At least none came off in his hand. “You must all get along.”
“Yes, sir. We sure do, Mr. Barrett.”
“You can call me Seth,” he said with a chuckle. “Mr. Barrett is my dad. He sometimes does my cabinetry work.”
