Page 6 of The Life Daisy Devlin Designed
Plus, she reasoned, working for Matt could spell total disaster! Or they might find that they were still madly attracted to each other, and they’d both managed to suppress it for the last five years. Which would be ... a total disaster, obviously.
At the same time, it was definitely a sign that Matt had bought a house she’d wanted to redesign for so long. Daisy was a firm believer in signs – she just hadn’t always read them properly. Once, she’d thought she and Matt had the perfect relationship.She’d envisioned a future where they might even marry and have a family. And look how that had turned out! Even now, she wondered how she’d missed those signs – the foreshadowing of a bombshell.
What if Laura had been right, and she’d made a huge mistake by contacting him?
But if Matt decided to ignore her text, it was probably for the best. Things hadn’t been great between her and James for a while, and having Matt back in her life might ... what? Make things worse? How would that be possible? Her stomach squeezed. In the past year or more, James had been subtly pulling back from their relationship. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d even had a proper conversation.
Daisy had tried to pinpoint exactly why, but the only thing she could think was that he regretted making the commitment to buy a house together. Even more worrying was that as he’d pulled away from her, he’dgravitatedtowards Alma. Daisy didn’t actually believe that James was cheating on her, but she’d definitely been sidelined. Because while James and Alma had connected over their Nintendo Switches, Daisy, whose own hobbies ran to knitting cute sweaters and upcycling vintage clothes, found herself completely excluded.
Which made her more determined than ever not to let her private life affect her career. She wouldn’t apologise for wanting a real chance at an award she’d gone for every year since landing her first job in the industry.
The reality was, she needed a win. And that had nothing to do with Matt.
CHAPTER 3
“They’ve delivered the wrong fucking island unit, love.” Kenny, the foreman for Freya Maguire’s Victorian house, rubbed the back of his stubble-head and looked around the half–finished room.
Daisy stayed calm. “I’m sure they haven’t, Kenny. I designed this kitchen myself, so it’s been made to that spec.”
Kenny sucked his breath in through his teeth. “No offence, love, but maybe you got some measurements wrong.” He pointed to the huge slab of marble on the floor in the middle of the room. “That’s the top of their island unit, and it’s supposed to be just two and a half metres. If we were still doing this in old money, love, you’d be short a couple of feet!”
He handed Daisy the hard copy of the drawings she’d given him.
She took a professional measure from her pocket and, ignoring Kenny’s pointed sighs, checked the slab and the unit it was supposed to fit. “Shit.” She straightened up. “You’re right.”
The foreman huffed. “So what do you want me to do?”
Daisy looked around the large basement where the kitchen was being installed. “Take a break. I need to see if I can sort it.”
Kenny turned to the two other men on his team, who were running piping along a back wall. “Tea break, lads. Somebody find the biscuits – and they’d better be the good ones.”
Daisy left them to it, sliding open one of the big glass doors to the newly laid sandstone patio, warmed by some welcome March sun. Sitting down on the bench beside the garden’s side wall, she blotted out the delighted shrieks of Freya’s youngest child, who was being chased by her minder, and checked over her original drawings, before calling the suppliers.
Several frustrating minutes later, she hung up. This was worse than she’d thought. It wasn’t a simple delivery mix-up – they’d made the wrong size.
And they’d be ten days waiting for the right size. She couldn’t afford a delay like that. She sent Freya a quick text, asking if she could call her. Freya worked as a solicitor for a busy firm, and Daisy just hoped that she’d get a minute to check her messages.
A moment later, Freya rang. “I’m on a break – how’s it going?”
Daisy filled her in.
“Bollocks!” Freya said.
“I don’t want to delay the kitchen.”
Freya sighed. “Me neither. What do you suggest?”
Daisy took a breath. “Actually, I have an idea.”
A couple of minutes later, she ended the call and came back into the kitchen, where the three men eyed her over their mugs of tea.
“We sorted then, love?” Kenny helped himself to another biscuit.
“All sorted, Kenny.” Daisy beamed. “But I will need to call on your excellent carpentry skills.”
She waited politely as Kenny made a show of thinking about it. She’d known Kenny since she and Laura had set up their business, and she trusted his judgement completely. And, since his wife’s death just four months before, he’d thrown himself completely into his work. After a few moments, he sighed and put his cup on the counter.
“Tell me what you have in mind.”
