Chapter 7 - Lacy
I was officially making my very first sales call for my very own company, and I was so preoccupied with that tall drink of water at home that I sounded like a Girl Scout selling cookies. I was totally embarrassed.
The client was a Mrs. Roberts—someone referred to me by Mrs. Pettibone. She lived in a two-story Cape Cod style home, also on the lakeshore. The bank of windows looking out over the water was nice, but I could only describe her interior as being 1970s eclectic. That was being kind.
She had way too much overstuffed furniture by the windows in the living room. In fact, you couldn’t see the lake from any of the furniture while sitting down. It was lined up against the walls and its colors had faded from the constant sun. It had seen years of use and wet beach towels, which left the upholstery in pieces and the wood coffee and end tables looking warped and gritty. The whole time I was there I had the obsessive desire to brush off my skirt.
I knew she wanted a homey touch, but there were a ton of ways I could give her that without overwhelming the room. For one thing, she’d used really dark colors and then accented those with black. It looked like the waiting room at a funeral home.
I sat at her table to draw some sketches and explain what I had in mind. “I thought we could brighten things up,” I began. That seemed reasonable enough, but things went downhill from there.
“Really? You don’t think the windows bring in enough light?”
“The windows are big, alright, but when the light comes into the room, it gets all sucked up by the dark furniture.”
“Sucked up?”
“Well, you know, the dark colors make it feel like a bedroom at midnight.”
“What are you talking about? This isn’t the bedroom; this is my living room.”
“Yeah, I get that. Anyway, you wouldn’t want to use this as your bedroom. I mean, everyone could see everything.”
“I’m only asking you to do my living room, not my bedroom. Everything in my bedroom is just fine,” she said, emphasizing the last two words.
I realized what I’d said and couldn’t believe my mouth had formed those words. Now she probably had the idea that I was some sort of the sex fiend. What the hell was the matter with me? Here I was on my first sales call, that just happened to be a referral from Mrs. Pettibone, who just happened to insist that I be very professional and above-board, and what did I do? I compared her living room to a dark bedroom and practically speculated about what would be going on inside. I couldn’t even make sense of what I was saying myself.
“Look, Mrs. Roberts, let me start over. I’m sorry, but I had a rather unusual guest at the cottage this morning and I’m afraid my mind has gone elsewhere.”
“I guess so!” she said, although her eyes were still huge and her face definitely flushed with embarrassment.
“Here’s what I’m getting at. This is a beautiful room and you have a gorgeous view, what they call a money view. That means that no matter what your house is like inside, that view is going to make it valuable.”
Could I dig myself in any deeper? Now she thought I was calling her house a piece of junk whose only redeeming factor was that bank of windows overlooking the lake. Good God.
I tried another tack. “What if we remove a couple of the bigger pieces of furniture from your living room area? That will open up some space to move around more. We can either refinish your sofa or buy a new one. Actually, if we bought new, we could buy a pair of loveseats and have them facing one another with a light-toned coffee table between them. That way they wouldn’t be pushed up against the window, and you’d have twice as much seating which allows your family or guests to watch the lake without standing up.”
I was pretty sure I had just insulted her again and I was hoping she wasn’t bright enough to catch it. Unfortunately, she was.
“So you’re saying that my guests can’t look out the window because of all the heavy furniture, is that right?”
I laughed uncomfortably. “You know, I did the same thing with my first house.” Had I just lied?
“Oh, I thought you were just out of college?”
“I am. That is, my parents’ house.” All I could think was Lacy, get the hell out while you still can. “Tell you what. Let me go back to my studio and make some sketches. I’ll call you and make an appointment to come over and let you look at them. I’ll also bring some fabric swatches and paint chips and we can go from there. How would that be?” I waited breathlessly, hoping she’d go for my suggestion. It was a little desperate, but maybe she’d take some pity on me.
“Well, I guess it would be okay. Mrs. Pettibone told me you were good, so I’ll have to take her word for it.”
Oh, she got me back on that one.
“What do you think about the floors? I was thinking we could pull up the carpet and refinish the hardwood floors underneath.”
“That’s an excellent idea. Perhaps you’d even like to whitewash them. That would bring even more light into the room, and it will reflect off the windows, the walls and the floor. You’ll have the sunshine in your living room all year long.”
“Do you know someone who could do that?”
“I might. I have a new associate I’ve been working with. Why don’t you let me ask him? In fact, right now, I’ll take some pictures and do a few measurements of the room. When I come back, I’ll bring you a price on the floors.”
“That would be perfect. I appreciate it. Do you want me to help you take the measurements? Since there’s so much furniture in here?”
She stressed the last line, and I knew she was giving me notice that she’d picked up on the insult I had innocently made.
“Mrs. Roberts, I must apologize to you. This is my first sales call, if you haven’t noticed, and I’m not only a little anxious, but I don’t have all the pat little phrases down yet. Let me make it up to you with a special new customer discount. How would that be?”
“I think we could work something out,” she nodded. “Why don’t I leave you to your work? I’m going into the study; I have some work to do on the computer. I’ll be just in the next room if you need me.”
I nodded and set about taking pictures with my phone from every angle. I tried not to be overly noisy as I climbed onto furniture to get the proper perspective. I was glad for my huge handbag as I pulled out the massive measuring tape I carried. I took the measurements quickly and then stepped into the doorway of Mrs. Roberts’s study.
“I’ve got what I need I’ll be in touch in a couple of days. Thank you very much for meeting with me, and I can let myself out.”
She nodded without looking up and waved me away. I realized I’d probably just blown my only shot at her house, and maybe others. If word got back to Mrs. Pettibone about how badly I’d bungled this, she could withdraw her support. I didn’t even want to contemplate what that would mean. People like Mrs. Pettibone could help you get ahead more quickly, but if they turned on you, it was an anchor that could take you to the bottom forever.
I headed back to the cottage, stopping long enough to pick up some groceries. When I got back home, I spotted Riker and Jonas stacking some pieces of wood down by the water’s edge. Carrying the bag of groceries in my arms, I walked down to see what they were doing.
“Here, let me get those for you,” Riker said as he came toward me. “How can you walk in the sand on those things?”
I looked down and realized I was in three-inch heels and a short skirt. I probably looked like Daisy Duck waddling across the sand.
“Good point. Here, if you hold these, I’m going to slide them off.” It also occurred to me that he’d been looking at my legs—and somehow that idea didn’t bother me the least.
Riker took the bag and then turned and handed it to Jonas. “Jonas, run these up to the kitchen and put anything that needs to stay cold in the refrigerator. I’ll stay here. I have some things to talk to Ms. Lacy about.”
Jonas smirked knowingly, but he took the bag without comment and sprinted up to the kitchen door. As he disappeared inside I turned my attention back to Riker. “Is there something wrong?”
“No, nothing at all. I just wanted to talk to you for a few minutes.”
“Oh, okay. I see you’re building a fire.”
He followed my gaze and nodded. “Hope you don’t mind, but we’ve got some scrap wood from our project and I didn’t want to see it go to waste. I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind if we stayed a little longer, off the clock, of course, and watched the stars come out. We don’t get to see those often in the city, you remember?”
It warmed me to think that he might be a romantic. “You’re right. Sure. As a matter of fact, I just bought a package of hot dogs and buns at the store. What if I bring that down and we’ll roast them and watch the stars come out together?” I was immediately embarrassed, wondering if I’d been too forward and put him in an awkward position. Maybe he had intended to do some male bonding with Jonas and I wasn’t invited.
“There’s nothing I’d like better,” he said, smiling so that the dimples in his cheeks melted my heart. “I have an idea that you’re the kind of woman who’s not only sensual, but capable of a little philosophy when you’re on a beach beneath the stars.”
“Was that a line? That’s an awfully big assumption.”
“Am I wrong?” He was standing with his feet spread and his hands on his hips. I could see his pulse in the opening of the shirt, just below his Adam’s apple, which incidentally was huge. I’d heard somewhere along the line that men with huge Adam’s apples typically also had huge penises. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to think about that. It might keep me from sleeping that night. And despite my attraction to Riker, I knew I’d be sleeping alone—we were chaperoned, and I wasn’t even sure if his flirtations were serious.
“No, you’re not wrong. I like to talk about almost anything. But I thought men hate it when women want to talk about philosophy and emotions and all that good stuff?”
“Maybe some men, but not me.”
“Why, are you different?”
“Did I mention that I graduated from the University of Chicago with a degree in psychology?”
“I’m impressed.”
He chuckled. “Don’t be. That was my way of being imperious.”
“Oh my gosh, a four-syllable word. You definitely have a college degree.”
“I think you’re mocking me,” he said, pushing a finger in my direction to lift my chin. I thought for a moment the finger would drop down into my blouse, and I even hoped it would, but he was a gentleman and withdrew it almost immediately. There was an awkward moment.
“Well, let me go inside and change my clothes. I’ll see what Jonas is up to and send him down with the food and a couple of long-handled forks. What would you like to drink?”
“I could tell you, but then you’d have to slap me,” he murmured, and I know I blushed bright red.
“Don’t be so sure about that.”
“Really?”
“So, that aside, what would you like to drink?” I wasn’t going to let the topic drop entirely. It still had a little mileage left in it.
“How about a little milk?”
I had to ask myself, was he really that good at small talk? I wanted to assume he was, because my nipples were hardening and I didn’t doubt that he could see them through the fabric of my blouse. He was definitely looking for them.
“I think I have some milk. Would you like it in a glass?”
He opened his mouth and roared with laughter. We were on the same wavelength, and I loved the fact that we could banter back and forth with sexual innuendo without Jonas there to listen in.
“Did Melanie leave?”
“Melody who?” That was his way of telling me that she didn’t matter. I loved that.
“Listen, Riker. I wanted to ask you something.”
“Go ahead.”
“The woman I met with today, Mrs. Roberts, has a large living room area with floors that need to be sanded and refinished. I promised to ask you if you’d be interested in the project. I’ve got dimensions and pictures for a bid.”
He looked skyward, as if studying the stars.
“I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me once I finish up here. I’d planned to buy a house and remodel it myself.”
“I thought maybe Jonas could do the bulk of the work, under your supervision. If you thought…”
“Okay, I’ll do it. But as a favor to you, okay?”
“That’s great,” I said and spontaneously leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. Why the heck did I do that just now? He didn’t seem to mind, though, so I just reveled in the texture of his stubbled cheek beneath my lips.