Boom - Sabrina Stark Page 0,108

making it.

Her lipstick was dark red, and her hair was jet-black, cut in a classic French bob. She wore a flared black miniskirt, a black turtleneck sweater, and – not even kidding – a little black beret set at a jaunty angle on her head.

None of this changed the fact that her suggestion was totally insane.

I gave her a perplexed look. "But we already have cupboards." I pointed to the nearest row of kitchen cabinets. "See? They're installed and everything."

On the opposite side of the kitchen, Roy was holding his video camera trained in our direction. A few feet away, standing in the kitchen doorway, Brody watched in grim silence, looking even more ticked off than usual.

But hey, I was ticked off too.

At the moment, it had nothing to do with Brody. It had to do with the fact that he and I had already selected the kitchen cabinets. And they were wonderful in every way.

I hesitated. Okay, I guess this did have a little something to do with Brody, but not directly. After all, he wasn't the one suggesting that we change everything last-minute.

Still, I felt a pang in my heart when I recalled how much fun we'd had that day, going to the cabinet maker's workshop and picking out the perfect Maplewood for the cabinets, along with the perfect honey-colored stain to bring out the natural patterns in the woodwork.

Just yesterday, the woodworkers had finished installing the gorgeous granite countertops, which Brody and I had also picked out together.

By now, the kitchen was nearly completed, which made Miss LaRue's suggestion all the more ridiculous.

Her lips pursed as she eyed the cabinets. "But they're completely wrong."

No. She was completely wrong. As for the cabinets, they were completely right.

I crossed my arms. "Oh yeah? How so?"

With a condescending smile, she said, "The current trend is counter-less cupboards."

I shook my head. "What?"

"Counter-less cupboards," she repeated. And then, as if to drive the point home, she marched to the nearest upper cabinet and pulled open its door. With a delicate scoff, she said, "See? This will never do."

I looked, but saw only perfection. The cabinets looked wonderful. They even smelled wonderful – all woodsy and clean, like the rest of the house, under Brody's expertise.

Hey, I could give credit where credit was due.

Grudgingly.

To Miss LaRue, I said, "I have no idea what you mean."

She pointed to the countertop just below the open cupboard. "The newest trend," she announced, "is to have the cabinet doors skim the countertop when they open." Her chin lifted. "Counter-less. See?"

I frowned. "So wait a minute. What you're telling me, is that you want to replace these with cabinets that will make the countertops impossible to actually use?"

She bristled. "No. That's not what I mean at all."

"Are you sure?" And then, as if speaking to a two-year-old, I said, "Because the way you describe it, any time you open a cabinet door, whatever's on the counter will be knocked off."

She gave a curt nod. "Right. It's the newest trend."

I was finding this a little hard to believe. "Even if it is," I said, "it's totally stupid."

Her mouth tightened. "And why is that?"

"Because," I said, "what are you gonna do with your toaster? Or your coffee maker?"

"I presume you'll make toast. Or coffee." She gave a delicate scoff. "And your point is….?"

Obviously, she still wasn't getting it.

I marched to the same cupboard that she'd opened just a moment ago. I closed it and glanced around, searching for something to help make my point. On a nearby work bench, I finally spotted a big, crumpled fast food bag, obviously destined for the trash.

I set the bag on the granite countertop underneath the cabinet door that I'd just shut. With a smile, I pulled the door open again. As expected, the bag stayed put. "See?" I said.

Miss LaRue gave me an annoyed look. "Yes. I see. It's a bag. What of it?"

I shut the cabinet door. "Just bear with me." I glanced around and spotted some discarded cardboard. Using stray electrical tape, I taped the flat cardboard to the bottom of the cabinet door, extending the door so low, it would skim the countertop, just like she'd described.

Again, I opened the cabinet door. This time, the bottom of it – meaning the cardboard extension – knocked the bag onto the floor.

I looked to Miss LaRue. "See?" I said again.

She spared the bag half a glance. "It's still a bag."

"Right. But it could've been a toaster."

"Except it's not."

"But it could've been," I