Page 113 of Hidden Nature

He carried them out, then went back to wipe up.

He set her house key on the kitchen counter and had reached for his coat when the front door opened.

“You’re here early.”

“You’re here late.”

He glanced at the time. “Looks like we’re both right.” He picked up her key. “All done,” he said, and put it down again.

“Done? As in finished? I figured another day on it. I’ve gotta see!”

Still wearing coat and hat, she strode toward the bathroom. She’d seen the progress, he thought, but finished? A whole different ball game.

“Well, God. Yes!”

He strolled over to stand in the doorway while she touched everything.

“Good pick on the shower tiles,” he commented. “I wasn’t sure about that blue until it started going up. It’s got movement, variation in tone. Doing the subways horizonal, floor to ceiling, adds depth. Wasn’t sure about the wall color either, but that barest hint of blue in it works, and so does continuing it on the ceiling.

“Light wood on the vanity,” he continued, “that bit of blue veining on the white countertop, the other cabinet and shelves, those natural wood touches. Good choice on the penny tile, carrying it from the shower floor and out.”

“It’s beautiful. It’s really beautiful.” She ran her fingers over the top of the cabinet he’d built, imagined putting flowers on it, or candles. Or both!

“You were right about the cabinet. It’s perfect, and such good craftmanship.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s such good light now. I won’t look like a ghoul in the mirror.”

“That would take some doing.”

“I can’t believe how perfect… damn it!”

“Problem?”

“Yes, there’s a problem.” She waved him aside, marched out, then pointed at her fireplace. “How the hell am I supposed to have that perfect bathroom, and look at that?”

He only said, “Ah.”

“I’m supposed to wait at least two months—I planned it out. Three’s better, but I could do two, then hit this room. Then a few months later maybe—maybe—think about the kitchen. Or if the weather allows, start on the exterior, leave the kitchen for now. The bedroom can wait. I mostly only sleep there, and I sleep with my eyes closed.”

“Hey, me, too. That’s amazing.”

“Shut up. But I spend time out here in the evenings, and I’ll want afire in that brick ugliness right into April. And if I cave and do something with that ugliness, I can’t leave the walls like this, or the trim, and that horrible popcorn ceiling must go.”

Nash glanced up. “Should be illegal anyway.”

“Yes!” She high-fived him. “And I can’t keep that hideous ceiling light up there. You know this!”

Diplomacy mattered in business, Nash thought. He decided on “Well, hmm.”

“And I can’t just paint over the ugly of that brick because all that brick is too heavy for the size of the room. Heavier yet with that stupid skinny mantel.”

She turned, stared at him.

Diplomacy and honesty mattered.

“I sense you might want me to disagree with that, but I can’t.”

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