Page 84 of Ten Beach Road

“And if I did?” He snagged her gaze.

Deirdre stepped between them. “The kitchen is too important for egos to get in the way. I want to show you what I have in mind so that you can both sign off on it.”

She gave Chase an eyebrow.

“Fine.” His agreement was grudging.

Avery got the other eyebrow.

“Sure.” Avery shrugged. “Why not?”

“Good,” Deirdre said. “Because whoever did this to this house should be shot.”

Avery had to agree. The kitchen could have been a set onThat ’70s Showwith its speckled turquoise Formica countertops that coordinated with the boxy turquoise Frigidaire. The white twelve-by-twelve floor tiles were cracked and without character while the turquoise-and-white laminate cabinets screamed Florida almost as loudly as the white seashell knobs.

“Shot in front of a firing squad,” Avery added.

“Live on HGTV,” Chase said, shooting Avery a look. Avery shot one right back.

“Right,” Deirdre said, taking charge. “I’m glad we’re in agreement. Of course, the footprint of the kitchen has already been changed with the incorporation of the butler’s pantry. And I love the original built-in along that wall.” She waved an arm to encompass the space. “All we need to do is restore the kitchen’s harmony to the rest of the house.”

Avery and Chase nodded; they kept their gazes on Deirdre and off of each other.

“I think we should go for reclaimed wood countertops—I can get solid pieces of oak twenty-four inches wide that’ll look fabulous and tie the room to the rest of the house. The floor should be real Spanish tile and I’d do the backsplash in hand-painted reclaimed tiles. I’ve got a great salvage person over on the East Coast.”

“And the cabinets?” Avery asked, not wanting to be impressed.

Deirdre did a three-sixty, taking in the space in one final glance, though Avery suspected she’d been measuring and thinking about the kitchen since the day she’d arrived.

“I think soft green glass-fronted cabinets would be spectacular in here.”

Chase nodded. “Sounds good.”

It would, of course, be far more than good. It would be fabulous. “Would you put in a stainless-steel sink?” Avery asked casually.

“Absolutely.” If Deirdre had been hoping for praise, she didn’t show it, continuing with complete assurance. “Of course, we’ll want top-of-the-line appliances. There’s room for a Sub-Zero refrigerator with matching cabinetry. And I’d put a freestanding Aga stove over there.” Deirdre pointed to the spot. “And we’ll put in some spectacular period lighting, something iron I think, over a Biedermeier table and chairs.”

Avery, who could see it all, realized she was nodding far too happily and stopped so abruptly she nearly gave herself whiplash.

“What do you think?” Dierdre asked.

“It sounds . . .” Avery paused, searching for the right word. “Fine.” She threw in a casual shrug for good measure.

Deirdre’s eyebrow went sky high. Chase gave her a knowing smirk; he read her far too well. But Avery didn’t care. It would be a cold day in hell before Avery handed Deirdre a compliment no matter how well deserved.

“We need to go ahead and start the kitchen and pool house,” Deirdre said. “But I’ve been thinking I might pitch the house to the designer and symphony guilds. I don’t know when they do their primary show house here, but maybe they’d be open to an additional fund-raiser.”

Avery felt a real stirring of excitement. Turning Bella Flora into a designer show house would be a great way to get the house furnished and decorated for almost nothing. It would also give John Franklin a whole lot of additional marketing opportunities.

“That’s a great idea!” Chase broke into a smile. He nodded with complete abandon. “That would be huge!”

Avery’s smile was considerably smaller and her nod briefer; she imagined a letter “H” for hypocrite scrawled across her forehead. If anyone but Deirdre had proposed the idea, Avery would have been bobbleheading, too.

Nicole swiped at her forehead with the back of her arm and stuck her cell phone back in her shorts pocket. If they hadn’t had a camera-toting audience she would have lifted her sweat-soaked cable company T-shirt and mopped her face.

“Well?” Avery asked. “What do you think?”

“I left him a message. His secretary said he’d be back in later today. I’ll do my best to convince him.” “Him” was Tim White, a former New York client who owned a company that installed and repaired steam heating systems. Something that didn’t seem to exist in Florida.

---