Page 104 of Mr. Fixer Upper
“Golf course today?” she asked.
“It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta babysit the network VPs. How are things in Brooklyn?”
“Moving right along. It’s the mess before the order. But I think this is going to be a show-stopper when the house is done.”
“Good, good,” Eddie said in that distracted way of his. “You don’t need to check in every day, you know. I trust you. You know what you’re doing. You don’t need me to hold your hand.”
“Just trying to do a good job,” Paige said.
“According to Gannon you’re doing better than good,” Eddie told her. “And post-production is thrilled with what you’re feeding them. You and Gannon really work well together.”
“Not you, too, Eddie,” Paige groaned.
Eddie chuckled. “Sorry, kid. He got to me. That’s a man that cares a hell of a lot about you.
“I’m not having this conversation with you or anyone else for the fiftieth time today,” Paige announced. “We’ve got the replacement windows coming on the truck, and I’ve got to go find the permit so I can wave it in the meter maid’s face when she shows up to yell at us again.”
“Have a good one,” Eddie signed off.
“Yeah, yeah.”
Paige made another call to an in-house production assistant who was assisting Gannon’s team by organizing orders and deliveries to the house and then took a minute for herself. The autumn sunshine was warm, and there was a thick door between her and Gannon.
He was slipping through cracks in her defenses right and left. She’d always been impressed by his talent, enough to mostly overlook his cockiness and attitude. But seeing him working with his whole crew, guys he’d known for years, some of whom had worked with his grandfather, was like getting to know his family.
They all had a genuine respect and affection for the man, and as far as Paige could tell, the feeling was mutual. More often than not, after a long day of filming, beers would be cracked open, and wives and children would appear.
It was so different fromKings of Construction.There they were constantly surrounded by strangers before picking up and moving on to a new group of strangers. Here was a community, a family, and Paige’s own crew was welcomed as such into the fold.
She spotted a familiar woman, tall and impeccably dressed, approaching. Her dark hair was coiled in a sedate, yet classy chignon. The navy blue suit hinted at the fit figure beneath. But the stride, in nude heels precisely two inches in height, spoke of confidence and no nonsense. The walk, purposeful without being hurried, was as familiar to Paige as her own.
“Hello, Paige,” her mother offered, standing hands folded over her stylish leather bag just outside the gate.
“Mom, what are you doing here?” Paige rose from the stoop, brushing off the seat of her jeans and hurrying down the stairs.Had her mother really taken time out of her day to come wish her a happy birthday? That would be a birthday miracle. Usually her mother sent her a perfunctory email, and Leslie’s assistant mailed her some shiny, expensive gift.
“It’s lovely to see you as well, dear,” Leslie said, subtly correcting what she felt was a rudeness. “I was at a symposium down the block at the hospital, and I thought I might come visit my daughter at work.”
“No special occasion?” Paige prodded.
“Must there be one for a mother to see her own daughter?” Leslie asked pointedly.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Her own mother hadn’t remembered her birthday,Paige thought dryly. She could get some serious mileage out of this around the dinner table.
“Would you like to come in and see the house?” she offered, hoping her mother would say no.
“I certainly wouldn’t want to end up on camera,” Leslie sniffed, her disdain evident.
“We’re not shooting for another thirty minutes,” Paige promised.She could do half an hour with her mother without wine. Couldn’t she?
“All right then.”
Crap.
Paige flipped the latch on the gate and swung it open for her mother. Leslie St. James didn’t open her own doors. “Just promise not to say anything condescending to anyone inside. They’ve been working their ass— They’ve been working nonstop. So put on your cocktail reception face,” Paige ordered.
Her mother rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to be rude to your… co-workers. This is your work, such as it is, and should be respected,” she said, eyeing the plywood floor of the foyer with a dubious expression.
