A High-End Finish(10)

No, Marigold wouldn’t pry, I thought. But I wished she had, just a little.

“I was concerned,” she continued, “because she wouldn’t take off her dark glasses. I could see a bruise on the side of her face and she looked terribly pale and downcast. At the time I considered going to the police, but then I must’ve gotten busy and forgot all about it.”

Marigold sipped her tea and glanced around the table. “To be honest, her behavior and the bruise might have nothing to do with Jerry, but given Shannon’s experience, I thought I ought to mention it.”

We all contemplated that silently for a few minutes, and a short while later the party broke up. It was just as well, because Marigold’s story had depressed us all.

I spent the rest of the day avoiding people while trying to forget the blind date from hell. I did some touch-up sanding at Jane’s place, then ran by two of my construction sites to check on the progress. At both stops, I was encouraged to hear my guys’ outrage over the ugly incident on the beach. I assured them all that I was fine and that yes, I’d delivered a good, swift kick to Jerry Saxton, just as they’d all instructed me to do at one time or another.

Apparently the rumor mill had already spread the news that I had kicked Jerry exactly where my neighbor Jesse had bet I would. I didn’t have the heart to mention to the guys that my kick had missed its mark by a few important inches. It would’ve disappointed them.

On the way home, I stopped at the bank to get some money. I was a silent partner in several of my friends’ businesses and had promised to drop off some cash to one of them to expand the holiday inventory. I didn’t like leaving a paper trail—which sounded shifty but really wasn’t—so I always gave them the dollars instead of writing a check.

While I was waiting in line, a well-dressed, friendly-looking woman with a short cap of blond hair walked up to me. “You’re Shannon Hammer, aren’t you?”

“Yes?”

“I’m Penelope Wells, the bank’s new loan agent. But call me Penny, please.”

“Nice to meet you, Penny.” I hesitated, then said, “I’m just here to withdraw some cash.”

She grinned. “I know you’re not here to see me. I just wanted to introduce myself because I’m looking for a contractor to renovate the kitchen in the house I just bought. You were highly recommended by several people.”

I beamed at her. “That’s so nice to hear.” We arranged to meet at her house the following day around noon. After exchanging business cards, we shook hands and she went back to her office.



Saturday at noon, I arrived at Penny Wells’s charming one-story Victorian just as she pulled up in a sporty little Miata. She was on her lunch hour, so she gave me a fast tour of her kitchen and explained what she had in mind for the redo. I took lots of notes and we flipped through some kitchen-design books for ideas on ways to finish the room. I checked for load-bearing walls and inspected the attic for any surprises, like termites or holes in the insulation or weird wiring.

“It’s an old house, but it’s in good shape,” I said when I got back to the kitchen. Pointing at the books, I asked, “Did you see anything you like in there?”

“Oh, tons of things. Can I keep these for a while?”

“Sure. Just put yellow stickies on the pages you want to show me. I assume you’re going to interview a few more contractors?”

“No,” she said, shrugging. “I want you.”

“Oh.” I was pleasantly taken aback. “Okay, great. But if you change your mind, it’s fine. Always good to get a second opinion.”

“Your reputation precedes you. Both in construction and in personal-defense skills.” She chuckled. “They’re calling you the Emasculator down at the Cozy Cove Diner.”

My mouth fell open. “Oh no. But I didn’t—”

“I think it’s great,” she interrupted with a laugh, but it faded quickly. “That jerk deserved what you gave him and a lot more.”

“You know him?”

Her lips were pinched together. “We’ve had a few interactions. My bank handles some of the home financing for his buyers.”

There was something in her eyes that told me maybe she’d had an encounter with Jerry, too. Boy, the guy really got around.

“I see,” I said. “Well, I hope he’s nicer in business than he is in his personal dealings.”

“He’s very charming. But it’s all an act.”

I sighed. “I can’t believe they’re calling me the Emasculator. It sounds like the name of some perverted superhero.”

She chuckled. “It suits you.”

“Thanks a lot.” I started to laugh.

“So, you’re hired. When do we start?”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence. I’ll write up an estimate and get it to you in the next few days. Once you’re ready to go, I’ll start looking for materials and my guys can move forward on the demo.”

“Perfect. I’ve got to get back to work.” She grabbed her purse and briefcase. We walked outside, shook hands, and parted ways.

I was proud of myself for making it through the rest of the day without once thinking about my role as the Emasculator. Especially since a part of me really liked the nickname. I mean, I hadn’t allowed Jerry to hurt me too badly. I’d stood up and defended myself, and that felt good. Still, living in a small town where people thrived on rumors and chitchat, I’d do best to keep a low profile. I worked hard the rest of the day and didn’t talk to anyone but my guys.