The Restoration of Celia Fairchild - Marie Bostwick Page 0,99
the dogs. We were used to each other, so much so that I sometimes wondered how I’d ever lived here alone. It was a big house, meant to be filled with family. Now, once again, it was.
“My shift ends at one,” Teddy reported. “You sure they’re taking the dumpster away today? I want to start cutting back some of those hedges.”
“Should be gone by the time you get home. That’s what Lorne said.”
“Good,” Teddy said. “If we’re going to have a baby, we need a garden.”
I kept telling Teddy not to get his hopes up, that there were three families who wanted this baby, but he was excited about being an uncle. Sensible caution aside, I couldn’t help but smile when he referred to Peaches as “our” baby.
Teddy grabbed two leashes from the entry table and opened the door. I told him good-bye and turned back toward my room to get dressed.
“Hey,” he said, looking up at me, “what are you going to do today?”
“You mean after I get dressed and eat a piece of cinnamon toast?”
“Uh-huh.”
I shook my head. “Absolutely no idea.”
KNOWING THAT THE kitchen was next on the renovation schedule and that I might not have access to the stove for much longer, I skipped the cinnamon toast and made myself a cheese omelet, trying to ignore the pleading eyes of the two dogs who sat hopefully at my feet while I cooked.
“The scrambled eggs were a guilt offering,” I told Pebbles. “It’s not something that’s going to happen on a regular basis.”
Pebbles blinked pathetically. I took a pinch of shredded cheddar from the bowl and tossed it to the floor, then repeated the procedure so Bug could get a bite. They inhaled the cheese, then sat down sweetly, blinking again. “That’s all,” I said, pointing my spatula toward each dog in turn. “I’m serious this time.”
“You sure? Smells pretty good.” Lorne came into the kitchen and headed toward the coffeepot. By this time, we were all used to each other. Lorne and the rest of the crew wandered in and out at will, popping in for coffee or a snack, or just to say hello. I liked that. The house made more sense with more people.
“Hey, Lorne. I can make you some breakfast if you want. I want to use up the eggs before you and the guys start tearing my kitchen apart.”
“Nope, I’m good. Just need a warmup.” He poured coffee into a green thermal mug. “And to tell you that, unfortunately, I won’t be able to tear up your kitchen today. There has been a delay.” He lifted the mug to his lips, giving me a meaningful look over the rim of the cup. I felt my jaw set.
“Let me guess, Mr. Fitzwaller paid us a visit. What is it this time?”
“He doesn’t think the plan for the kitchen remodel meets code.”
“Of course it meets code!” I shouted, tossing my hands in the air to express my disgust. Bug sat up straighter and licked his chops, hoping more cheese was forthcoming. “The people at the building department already approved it!”
“Yes, indeed,” Lorne said, sarcasm made clear by his exaggeratedly polite tone. “And I pointed that out to young Fitzwaller. However, he is of the opinion that they were wrong and insists the plan go back for a second review. Until it does and is approved—again—I can’t get to work in here.” Lorne made a growling noise as he slurped his coffee.
“I know we were joking about seeing if Slip knew anybody who could cure our inspector problem, but I’m starting to think it might not be such a bad idea. Just kidding,” he said, holding up a hand. “But seriously, Celia, this guy is way more trouble than he’s worth. He’s costing me time and you money.”
Both were important, money as well as time. The home visit was less than a month away, but the money part was an even more immediate concern.
“What now?”
“After all the fuss about the electrical panel, Fitzwaller has decided that the new one isn’t sufficient to carry the load. He says we have to install a subpanel.” Lorne hooked his thumb into his belt loop and shook his head. “Was there some kind of ancient feud between the Fitzwallers and the Fairchilds? Because I’ll tell you, Celia, I have never come up against a guy like this.”
I turned the flame off on the burner and took the pan from the stove. I wasn’t hungry anymore. “What’s a subpanel going to