Chapter Eight
Daphne
Every morning that I woke alone, it was obvious that the house was missing a key element. It may have been nearly put back together, but without Caldwell it lacked appeal. The atmosphere was as I had expected; once all of the construction projects were complete, the man would disappear leaving me feeling a major loss. My only hope was that he would not want to be without me.
Maybe I was crazy to even worry about those things since he had not left my bed since the storm a few weeks ago. He obviously lived somewhere else before…during construction, but he never said more than I was a much better roommate than his brother. I wasn’t sure about being referred to as being a roommate…maybe it was a term of endearment…maybe he was uncertain of what we were to each other. I dropped it because, truthfully, I had no idea where we were going either—I just liked that he didn’t leave or if he did to tend to other jobs, he returned every night to my bed.
That was until he sprung a business trip on me that could not be postponed. Some big opportunity of a lifetime to see some major exhibit in London that was beneficial to his business. Seeing him so excited, I secretly hoped that he would ask me to join him. He knew that I was into art and architecture—California style mainly—but he never offered to take me along. We were so new in the intimate area that I didn’t think it appropriate to invite myself or even suggest that he let me tag along. Instead, I missed him like crazy and couldn’t wait for him to come back home to me.
With him gone for a week, I was thankful that I had things to do and art to see. Scouring museums and galleries, I loaded up my brain with article ideas for Fashionista Forward and I even met with Chanel Devlin, its editor-in-chief. She wanted to make sure that I wasn’t going anywhere with all of the new changes being made to the site. Of course I wouldn’t desert her, she had gotten me an amazing deal where my articles were compensated along with any advertisers I brought. That monthly percentage payout was very lucrative. Another bonus was that art events had wine and fed me—not big meals, but enough to satisfy my appetite and thirst.
I loved my life of being a freelance writer—making a nice living and making some great contacts that could come in handy when I finished my book. I was very close to completing the written part, close to handing it over to an editor I trusted to give me an honest opinion. Once that part was underway, photos needed to be taken to give the reader some great visuals.
Funny that Harrison, once again, came through for me with another person who had connections. My project wasn’t right for her since she was what she called “a friendly paparazzi” but I loved how she suggested that I should use a photography student. I had envisioned my book being used by art schools when I started compiling information for it.
California is filled with amazing architecture—a little bit of everything can be found throughout the state. The LA area alone was bursting with a variety of styles from ornate European to Ultra-Modern. Some of the homes have been created by some well-known artists/architects. Another element I planned to touch on in my book was decor and artwork as they were both quite instrumental to what I liked to call “California Style.” Everything blended together in a casual way that was eclectic—hence my title California Eclectic Style. Nothing fancy or catchy, just three simple words that I hoped would capture attention with the right PR.
“This place looks so different…so incredible…a-fucking-mazing! I can’t believe it is the same house.” Madison strolled in my front door with a bag of gourmet goodies and bottles of wine, stopping to look around as she made her way to my kitchen that was not quite done yet, but functional. “You know this place could be labeled a historical monument to the glam past!” Her voice was decorated with excitement that matched her new look. “Definitely a must for your book.”
“Not sure it’s good for my textbook idea, but I can imagine seeing it in an interior design magazine.” I stepped up to the counter where she set things and helped her remove yummy items that were perfect for a charcuterie plate—mixed green olives, deli meats, cheeses, dried fruit, and mini baguettes. “Love your new hair color.”
“Balayage,” she announced as I handed her a platter before I opened the wine and filled two glasses. “You need before and after pictures of everything…I see it now…”
“Bolly-what?” We were having a confusing conversation. Madison was stuck in interior design book mode and I was intrigued by her usual jet black waves highlighted with colors that reminded me of burgundy wine, caramel, dark chocolate…and milk chocolate. It was so pretty—it made my shiny blonde hair seem so dull.
“Balayage…b-a-l-a-y-a-g-e.” She laughed, lifting up her hair with one hand and letting it fall. “You did take them?” I tilted my head, squinting my eyes at her. “Photos. Keep up!” Madison said, playfully snapping her fingers in my face.
“I was admiring your hair…it looks great! And yes, I took photos in all rooms before I moved in, from all angles. They’re not professional but some of them came out pretty decent.”
She was nodding her head as I spoke, sipping her wine, and I could only imagine where her thoughts were jetting off to—always plotting. “Good! Perfect for publicity…the big reveal…you need a list of resources…you have them, right?” I could see the wheels turning in her head…part of her hoped of being a literary PR agent by the time I got my book put together.
“I do but—” It was my turn to visualize where I had put things…receipts.
“—besides your hot man?” Of course Madison was thinking along different lines than me as she made a growling sound. I was thinking about products not Caldwell.
“Hey! Get your own!” I exclaimed, laughing.
“Don’t worry yourself. You know I would never go after your man—”
“—he’s not really mine.” I wanted him to be, but we had not talked about the possibility of us or made any commitments to each other.
“You’re in love with him.” I looked at her wondering how she knew that…was certain of that. “Don’t even try to deny it…and…I spotted a very cute one for myself on the subway.”
Oh, a new subject! I sat up straighter, wanting to hear more.
“I think he’s interested…in a stalker-ish way.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“Relax! I mean he keeps seeking me out. I think he’s close to asking me out.” I waited for her to continue but instead watched her stack a heavenly combination from the meat and cheese platter. Unfortunately, she disappointed me once she finished chewing and took a sip of wine since she launched back into my book. “Anyhoo, about this place…” Her hand free of wine waved around in the air. “It’s a goldmine for promoting you and your stylish textbook, slash coffee table book.”
“That is why you will be an agent soon!” I knew she would succeed.
“Soon enough…get this kitchen done…and I will be ready to launch you!” She lifted her glass up into the air in my direction and waited for me to click hers. Toasting and chatting was the way we spent the rest of the evening before she took a hired car home and I crashed alone in my bed.
Talking with Madison had me so excited about my future—I could see one of my dreams becoming a reality. Photos and edited text combined was all there was to it, right? Of course, whether it would sell or not was to be seen, but I hoped to share that with Caldwell. My thoughts had been running to him with everything going on in my life. He was hard to get away from—not that I wanted to—since he had become a part of the house. First, working on it and then practically living in it. All of his clothes and personal belongings were the only things missing.
How did I feel about him making my home his permanent residence? I knew that he was living with his brother temporarily. There was, certainly, plenty of room for him in the four bedroom, three bath house that was too big for me alone. Would he like to live with me? He had mentioned that my Streamline Moderne was his dream house…well, maybe not exactly mine, but I knew he loved the architectural style of it. We sounded like a couple of fanatics when we discussed the house and ones like it. It surely had to be a bonus to have that love in common…love.
Love for Caldwell? It was definitely a possibility. One that I hoped was felt mutually. Was he feeling the same way—uncertain if what we were experiencing was love or lust?