shrugged.
‘I think the books should go by the funny sofa,’ Esme said soberly, before launching herself across the room and jumping on the chaise longue. She let out a squeak as she bounced. ‘Not as soft as it looks!’
They wandered into the kitchen, which led through to a conservatory, sunlight streaming in through the old vines that twisted up against the glass like a desperate lover. The heat was stifling, but the bright fuchsia flowers in the overgrown garden made the whole thing feel like a glass orb slowly being reclaimed by nature.
‘Can’t you see people having afternoon tea in here?’ Evie grinned at Mollie, ‘Or wine, maybe listening to some poetry or live music?’
She could see it, clear as anything, but somehow the dream felt a little too vivid, almost scary in its possibility. But this was for Ruby, and they weren’t going to run.
‘It’s like a greenhouse.’ Mollie pulled at the neck of her t-shirt, ‘But yes, if we get some fans, or find a way to ventilate it, I can’t see why not. The kitchen is pretty workable too.’
They walked back through to the main studio, wondering where the entrance to the flat even was. Evie crossed the room, found a door, and behind that, a narrow, steep staircase and another door. Which opened.
‘Holy shit!’ Evie said as the doorknob twisted, and felt her heartbeat slow with the sounds of someone unlocking the door from the other side. Of course, the carpenter guy Evelyn had mentioned. Calm the hell down.
The door swung open to reveal a man frowning at her. He was mid-thirties, or thereabouts, his dark hair peppered with the tiniest hint of grey. His stubble remained dark, however, and his eyes were a shocking light blue, looking at her with disdain. He was muscular, but Evie berated herself – obviously, he was a carpenter. His black t-shirt fit too well, and his jeans hung low on his hips. It was a good thing he wasn’t smiling, Evie thought to herself. He looked like a bad boy. Just her type. Well, her type since she’d finished with the art school hippie boys, all angular elbows and hips, living in clothes made of hemp, not bathing for weeks in the name of ‘authenticity’. This man was…. well, a man. Ruby had definitely slept with him.
‘Hi, we’re –’ Evie put out her hand, assuming his frown would soften in response to her smile. It didn’t.
‘The cavalry, I know. You’re the creative genius who’s going to save this place and make it into a special magical space for everyone.’
His mouth was a thin line, and his voice mocked her.
‘Most days I go by Evie. It’s shorter.’ She rolled her eyes, ‘And you are?’
‘Killian.’
‘The grumpy carpenter. Got it,’ her eyes sparkled as his frown deepened. ‘This is Mollie and her daughter Esme.’
Killian grunted and nodded, his lips briefly quirking up at the sight of Esme squinting at him like he was a unicorn. But just as quickly, his eyes returned to Evie, and that glare returned.
‘So listen, just so no one gets confused – this door…’ he tapped the frame ‘… goes to my workshop. I don’t do distractions. I don’t want to be involved in what you’re doing here, I don’t want tea, I don’t want to get my kumbayas out with whatever ridiculousness you’re doing in the space. I’m here to work.’
Evie could feel her blood boil as Mollie’s mouth dropped into an ‘o’, but she just smiled. Keeping her cool. She’d been to enough of those anger management classes – something had to eventually stick. And the manly carpenter was not going to piss her off. She had a dream and a goal, and Ruby had given her this place.
‘Evelyn said she was sure we’d get along just fine… learn to compromise.’
‘Compromise?’ His dark brow furrowed, and in her head, ridiculously, Evie imagined him playing Hamlet, all broody and outraged, stalking across a stage dressed in black.
‘When it comes to noise, if we… when we have events on… well, it won’t work to have drilling or banging or whatever it is you do.’
Killian’s lips quirked, and he learned on the doorframe. ‘Well, in that case, I’ll give you a list of my working hours and you can work around me.’
‘Um… excuse me?’ Esme put up her hand like she was in class, and stepped forward.
‘Yes?’ Killian answered, bemused.
‘I think you may need to look up compromise in the dictionary, because that’s not what it means.’
The carpenter’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked at Evie, ‘Is she being funny?’
‘She’s ten,’ she rolled her eyes ‘her sense of sarcasm hasn’t been cultivated yet.’
‘She’s just pedantic, honest,’ Mollie supplied helplessly, putting her hands on Esme’s shoulders, as if she was afraid Killian was about to launch himself at her daughter.
‘I was using the word compromise ironically,’ he said stiffly, directing his answer to Esme.
‘Nope, that’s not what that means either.’ The ten-year-old crossed her arms after adjusting her glasses. ‘I think you’re just being grumpy so you can be grumpy. And that’s no fun at all.’
‘Kid’s got a point, Grumpy Pants. What did we ever do to you?’ Evie countered, arms crossed to match her goddaughter.
‘I don’t want things changing. I’ve got a good place to work and I intend to keep it. Evelyn’s a good woman, and I don’t want this place getting screwed, and her along with it, just because some dead diva with an attitude problem said her friends could use the space.’
Screw anger management. Evie felt her jaw drop this time. Usually in these situations she’d see red, and she had to admit there was a little ruby fuzz clouding the edge of her vision, but that may have been a blood vessel popping from the shock. Dead diva! What a bastard.
Evie breathed deeply, in through the nose, out through the mouth, listening for the rasp of air at the back of her throat. She clenched her eyes shut and imagined those words soaring away on a breeze.
‘What’s she doing?’ The arsehole’s voice permeated her calm.
‘Auntie Evie has rage blackouts. She’s working through them though, right Mum?’
Mollie grinned at Killian, eyes narrowing, ‘Right, baby.’
Killian threw up his hands, cried ‘Bloody lunatics!’ and stormed off, slamming his door behind him. Evie opened one eye to make sure he was gone.
‘You have to do that every time he says anything mean to you!’ Mollie laughed, clutching her stomach.
‘Which I imagine, from that charming interaction, is going to be a lot.’ Evie grinned, ‘What an arse!’
‘You might want to change your inflection – that sounded like a compliment,’ Mollie smirked.
‘That was a horrible thing that man said about Aunt Ruby,’ Esme said sternly, looking at the closed door with a furrowed brow ‘do you think he was in love with her?’
Mollie and Evie blinked and looked at each other, shocked at the little girl’s perceptive skills, but also scared about what that might mean. And just how possible it was.
‘Why would you say that, baby?’ Mollie asked, stroking a hand over Esme’s silky hair.
‘Boys are mean when they love you. That’s what the girls at school say. And all those movies.’ Esme shrugged, sighing at the terrible facts of life. Mollie looked horrified, and Evie made a face, ‘Hun, if someone’s horrible to you, it’s because they’re horrible. They can’t use love as an excuse. Maybe that man did love Aunt Ruby, but when you really love someone, you’re not horrible to them, okay?’
Esme