The bathroom mirror never lied first thing in the morning, but, for Andrew McCall, its truth cut both ways. Age was beginning to have an impact, but it wasn’t all negative. When he stared at his reflection with a critical eye, he could see the graying at the temples that needed a little touch-up and the wrinkles radiating from the corners of his eyes. They were the inevitable result of more than four decades of life.

On the other hand, as his gaze drifted further south, Andrew smiled at his slim, still-fit smooth chest and flat abs. With jogging four times a week and regular visits to the gym, he made the best of a five-foot-nine-inch narrow frame with the solid shoulders of a mature man. Andrew was never worried about removing his shirt, and his bare chest and abs still gained appreciative second glances when lounging around the city’s lakes in the summer.

Andrew grinned and whispered, “Mirror mirror on the wall, I’m really not so bad at all.”

He pulled on a rich purple polo, slim-fitting dark blue jeans, and white sneakers. It was a dressed-down outfit for work, but every day it was impossible to know when Jeffrey would have an idea that required assistance with old boards, sheet metal, or window frames. Andrew kept a dressier jacket, shirt, and slacks hanging on the rear of his office door for emergencies.

Traffic was light for a Monday morning. It was late May, and the sun was already reflecting brightly off the sleek glass surfaces of tall downtown buildings. Perhaps the wiser residents of Minneapolis were taking the day off to relax on the shores of Lake Calhoun. Andrew requested that Siri pull up the sunny day playlist while he donned dark sunglasses and eased into the final ten minutes of his morning drive.

He remembered the words of his interior design mentor. “Always match materials to occasions, events, and moods. The look of the room should always fit what happens most often there. Always keep curated collections of music, movies, and books that match a wide variety of situations. They are the final element of decoration, and when focused on a theme they work, and they are always special in context.” Andrew’s sunny day was underway as he sang along with “Walking On Sunshine” at the top of his lungs.

Life was good for Andrew, and it just kept getting better. Life had thrown up its fair share of roadblocks, but at age 47, he had few serious complaints. Good friends, a great job, and plenty of cash reserves in the bank added up to a pleasing lifestyle with quality food, culture, and regular trips abroad. The occasional short-term relationship added spice without the responsibilities of a long-term commitment.

Andrew smiled when he pulled off the street next to the immaculate two-story Dutch colonial house that served as offices for ADJ Associates. The parking spot in front of the detached garage was reserved for the first arrival, and both Jeffrey and Doug were later than normal. Andrew had the best spot to himself. He stepped inside the kitchen door and stretched his arms high while taking a deep breath. He stared at the sight lines that seemed to go on forever in each direction inside the house. It was a showcase for what Andrew and Jeffrey’s combined expertise could yield.

ADJ Associates was one of the top historical home renovation firms in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Andrew, an interior designer, Jeffrey, a carpenter and construction expert, and Doug, a landscape architect and designer with a long resume of projects big and small, joined forces and, after 15 years working together, they built the business into a thriving firm. Through the years Jeffrey and Doug became much more than business partners. They were more like the brothers Andrew never had in his family of origin.

Andrew stepped into his office, the only one on the first floor. It occupied a room that served as a den or a small library for the first occupants of the house. The coveted location rotated among the three partners on a yearly basis. It was Andrew’s year.

While he perused his email on the office computer, the kitchen door opened and closed again. The deep, rugged voice of Jeffrey filtered through the house saying, “I hope you wore your grubbies today, Andrew. I’m going to need some help in the garage.”

At the same time, Andrew read the email he received from Teresa Miller, a professor of art at a nearby university. They worked together on a student project to provide art for a local shelter for abused women and children.

The message indicated university officials accepted and endorsed the project. Andrew thrust his hands into the air in victory. The moment was well worth a morning celebration. Searching quickly through his victory music playlist, he let Madonna’s “Ray Of Light” burst forth. Andrew danced his way from the office to find Jeffrey in the kitchen.

The resounding thump of the bass kicked in as Andrew shouted, “Victory, brother, victory!”

Jeffrey smirked and said, “You’ll still be dancing like that with a cane when you’re 80, won’t you?”

Andrew flashed a smile in Jeffrey’s direction and said, “I don’t see why not. C’mon, Jeff, turn that frown upside down and join me. It’s a morning for celebration!”

Jeffrey sipped the last of his first mug of coffee and said, “Aww, I just give up.” He set his empty mug on the countertop and began swaying his hips from side to side.

Andrew grinned and shouted, “Hands in the air now!” Both men thrust their hands in the air and sang in harmony with Madonna.

When the song came to an end, and Madonna’s voice faded off into the distance, Jeffrey bent over with his hands on his thighs. Breathing hard, he said, “Damn, I could kick ass in the club all night long 20 years ago.”

Andrew came to a rest, but his body and mind were still bursting with energy. He said, “I’d make a bet that given the right company, the right music, and the right atmosphere, I still could.”

Jeffrey shook his head slowly and said, “Give me a dinner and a movie or play any day. That’s my preferred speed. So, what’s the special occasion for the victory dance so early this morning?”

Andrew held up a hand and said, “Oh, I almost forgot. Dancing to the Madonna music got me so excited I nearly forgot why I was dancing. It’s a breakthrough for one of my current projects. Do you remember the domestic violence shelter?”

“That’s the mid-century house near Lake Calhoun?” asked Jeffrey.

“Yep, that’s the one. The shelter’s Board of Directors were only asking for interior design assistance, so I took it on as a gratis charitable project.”

“What’s this big breakthrough?” asked Jeffrey.

“I’ve been lobbying the college art department for their involvement. I helped open everything up on the ground floor. We removed heavy blinds on the back side of the house and lightened all of the paint colors to make it airy and open. The residents find that very important in the common spaces.”

“And the art department is involved how?”

Andrew said, “There are some large flat expanses of wall in the downstairs living spaces, and also upstairs in the private rooms. I thought a few large, mostly abstract art pieces in light and bright colors would enliven the space. The shelter doesn’t have the cash available to spring for something like that, so I took my case to the university.”

“And they welcomed you with open arms? It is a little hard to say no to you, Andrew,” said Jeffrey.

“Actually, two of the professors did say no. They said the courses operated on a tight schedule, and the students need to focus on their individual voices with their art or something like that.” Andrew shrugged.

“Did the puppy dog gaze help?”

“Finding the right professor helped,” said Andrew. “It’s a woman named Teresa Miller. She thought it would be an outstanding project for a select few students to deliver commissioned pieces. She was sympathetic to the argument for developing their unique voice, but she said the market reality for most working artists is that commissioned work can’t be turned down.”

Jeffrey raised an eyebrow. “The shelter is purchasing student work on the cheap then?”

“That’s the beauty of it. The students will receive course credit and the financial credit for a charitable contribution. No money will change hands, but the artists have the experience of a public commission and a course that counts toward their degree. The shelter gets original art, and the residents receive a brighter, more inviting home. Everyone wins. Even me with a tidy little tax deduction for consulting fees.”

Jeffrey said, “Now you need to turn those gifts toward getting us a new paying project and not just charitable work.”

Andrew brushed the dark brown, nearly black hair back from his forehead saying, “I’ve noticed a couple of houses that are on the market we could work on if the new homeowners are inclined. I’ve also had a few nibbles from other potential new clients.”

Jeffrey nodded at the comments and pointed at Andrew’s temples saying, “The color looks good there. It looks natural.”

Andrew said, “Shh, don’t tell anyone else. It was just there at the temples, and I touched it up this morning. The rest of the hair is naturally still dark brown.”

“And not the platinum blonde from your twenties?” grinned Jeffrey.

The sound of a key inserted into the lock on the kitchen door caused both men to turn their heads. Their business partner Doug pulled open the door and stepped inside carrying two plants still in nursery pots. The leaves were spiky blue-green, and the plant covered itself in small, fuchsia, carnation-style flowers. Andrew said, “Wow, those are pretty. What are they?”

“It’s a new variety of dianthus, in other words, a fancy name for carnations. Do you like them? And by the way, good morning.”

Jeffrey said, “They are nice. The shapes and color are sort of modern in style. Where are they going?”

Doug smiled and said, “I was just dreaming about that modernist house going up for sale on the edge of the University of Minnesota campus. Remember, I was telling you about it just the other day. An art professor recently passed away, and his family is putting the place on the market. It’s a great house on the outside. I have no idea what it looks like inside. I had it on my mind when I was wandering through Greg’s nursery. He took me in the back greenhouses to show me some of their newest introductions. These beauties were there.”

Greg Hawkins ran a nursery that focused on native and heirloom varieties of decorative plants. It was a wonderland for Doug. Greg maintained strong connections with horticulturists across the country and internationally. If Doug needed a particular plant, he knew that Greg could locate it.

“Why not just plant them here in the back yard?” asked Andrew.

Doug rolled his eyes. “Authenticity. There’s nothing here that wasn’t in existence eighty years ago. I don’t include anything that wasn’t available when this house was built. This variety didn’t exist just three years back.”

Andrew said, “So you’re sticking by that. I always wonder when I give clients the tour whether you’ve been exact about it. Some of these flowers look a lot like the ones I see at other well-kept houses down the street.”

Doug nodded and said, “They might be just as old, too.”

“So how are we going to get to work on that house you like?” asked Jeffrey.

Handing one of the pots to Andrew, Doug asked, “Which house?”

“The one you just mentioned,” said Jeffrey. “It sounds like a perfect project for us.”

Doug said, “There’s an open house on Sunday.”

“Then one of us should be there,” said Andrew.

Jeffrey added, “And I know who.”

Andrew sniffed at the pot. “It’s a nice little spicy scent. I like this. Maybe I should take one home. Can I grow it in a pot, Doug?”

Jeffrey threw an elbow at Andrew and scolded, “Pay attention.”

Andrew looked up and asked, “Did I miss something?”

Doug said, “I think you’re nominated for the open house on Sunday, and yes, you could grow those in a pot. Just make sure you don’t forget to water it.”

“I’ll make sure Helen doesn’t forget to water it when she’s cleaning my place,” said Andrew. “Is this a schmoozing job at the open house?”

Jeffrey said, “You’re going there to make friends, particularly of any real potential buyers. I know how hard it is to resist you. I’ve known that for the last fifteen years.”

“I guess I don’t have any set plans for Sunday,” said Andrew. “Give me the address, and I’ll try and be there for prime showing time.”

“I want to work on that garden,” said Doug.

“And I need a project,” added Jeffrey.

Andrew buried his face in the pot of dianthus once again and said, “I’ll see what I can do.”