Big J, seriously? Recentering herself with a deep breath, Celene asked, “What brings you here?”
“Uh,” June’s eyes swung from Celene to Elise. “Someone here called, requesting a color stain sampler and an estimate.”
Celene’s recentering flew right out the window. “Elise, what the hell?”
“You told me to help,” Elise spat back, indignantly yanking on her faded NYU sweatshirt. “I’m being proactive.”
“Making choices without consulting me?”
“Let’s slap anything on this bitch and call it a day. Purple, vomit green.” Her dry eyes squared in challenge. “Why would you care? You don’t even like it here.”
“Well.” Juneshoved her hands into her pockets, plainly uncomfortable. “There are regulations in this community about house colors. So...”
Celene shut her eyes, conjuring herself at a lake in Maine last year, before wedding prep took over the whole family’s life. Peace. When she could hear herself think. “Elise, could you, without a doubt, look Dad in the eye after doing a negligent job on this?”
“Your Type-A personality will give you a heart attack,” Elise droned as infuriatingly as a stuffy, allergic sister could, spinning to June, who’d wandered further on the deck to squint up at their house. Through the open door, she yelled, “You’re the expert, June. Pick at your discretion.”
“Like hell you’ll leave that to someone else.” Celene strode to Elise with purpose, determined to reel this situation in before it completely slipped from her grasp. “This is the opposite of making my life easier. She’s already here, so I’ll look at the colors.”
“Thisis a time suck. Get her to choose anything. We email the realtor. We go back to New York. Done and done.”
Calling the shots uninvited. Celene swore Elise hadn’t come down from her two-day bride-tacular. “I said no.”
“I’m the one with the credentials,” June supplied. With surprising audacity, she permeated their private conversation, flexing a rose bicep tattoo as she waved upward. “You’ll need a sanding and a treatment. That alone can take a few days.” She clomped her boots to unnecessarily demonstrate shaking a flimsy post of their front deck. “Both your decks are goners, too.” Returning to the sisters, she made direct eye contact with Elise only. “We could hire contractors to fix those, but we’ll attend to the house first. My team can pinpoint the most cost-efficient stain that’ll fit in with the rest of the neighborhood. I’ve lived in Yielding forever, so I’ll oversee everything.”
Any semblance of placid lakes and blue skies had been overtaken by red. Celene fought a snarl when she ground out,“And if I think it’s fucking ugly, then what? Would you fix your mistake, free of charge?”
June whipped her head to face Celene, cheeks pink from the weather or embarrassment. “I—I, um?—”
Elise muttered like she’d been the mature one all along. “Celene, jesus christ.”
“You brought samples. I demand to see them all in a test andI’llmake that final choice, hm?” Celene stared June dead in her eyes. “I don’t give a damn how it fits the rest of the community. The neighbors across the street propped twenty creepy garden gnomes outside, and I don’t complain. Yielding’s regulations aren’t my concern.”
June, to her credit, held her ground, hedging on her height advantage. “You have some loose siding out back. I’ll use one of the boards to sample six stains.”
“We leave on Wednesday, andonlyI’ll be back two weeks after. Will that be long enough for the sanding, treatment, stain?—”
“And to get a quote on your deck, yes.”
“I have particulars about that, too. Please don’t jump the gun without my explicit directions.” Her brows hitched like they did in contentious meetings. “Will I be using your aunt’s business, or should you refer me to a competitor?”
An outwardly strong June glanced at Elise for help she wouldn’t get. Elise already checked out as she did when things got intense, entranced by her tablet.
Shoulders sagging, June said, “Gertrude’s is the best in town.”
“We’ll see.”
Uninterested in wasting more of her breath, Celene retraced her steps to the counter. She smirked, hearing June’s heavy boots scrambling to get those samples started. And her smirk spread to a true smile at messages from Skye blinking ontoher phone. Skye proposed an impressively competitive rate—expected of someone who probably handled her grandmother’s books.
Celene – 10:12 am
I accept. Please provide a contract.
Three minutes later, a link to a signing form popped up, and Celene lowered herself into a wooden dining chair. Her muscles had been so tense, they ached. A jog would loosen her up.
Skye – 10:15 am
Sent.