Sincerely,
Kelsey Grant
Executive Assistant
Eli clicked through the attachments, and when he saw the proposed budget, his eyes widened. This wasn’t just an app; they wanted a whole new social media platform with cross-compatibility and the potential to change how people spent their time online. It was an ambitious undertaking but also a risky one, as there was no guarantee a new platform would take off.
Liz was right, though. He loathed the idea of working for someone else, but it felt wasteful to trash this opportunity without even hearing them out. Before he could change his mind, he texted her.
Eli: Fine. I’ll talk to them.
Liz: Awesome. I’m raising my billable rate when you start making Gates money.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Iris woke at 9:23 a.m. without needing an alarm.
She was sleeping well these days, comfortable in a way she’d rarely been anywhere else. Both Eli and Henry Dale were good housemates so far; they never left dishes in the sink, and they didn’t scatter their belongings in the common area. If everyone else was as conscientious, this would be a successful endeavor.
Without a schedule, she’d taken to showering at night since Henry Dale used the bathroom practically at dawn and Eli went in a bit later. Iris didn’t mind either way. Really, she needed another bathroom with a shower, but in a house this old, she was lucky to have even a half bath on the first floor and the full bath on the second.
She put on comfy clothes that would serve for the trip to the hardware store and for painting afterward, then she headed to the kitchen for more oatmeal. This bowl she topped with frozen berries, making the flavor a little different at least. She didn’t mind eating the same food every day, especially if it meant not telling her family that she was having trouble making ends meet. Iris would rather eat oatmeal three times a day than get in touch with her family. But of course, as if she’d manifested the call, her phone rang anyway before she finished eating.
Her dad sounded perpetually vague, untethered to reality. Instead, he lived in the past, forever buried in texts from ancient Rome. “I haven’t heard from you in a while, flower. Your mother said you’re sulking over that boy Lily is dating. Is there something I should know?”
She stifled a sigh. “I was dating him first, Dad.”
“Oh! Well, that’s not right. Is that why you boycotted Rose’s party? I do understand where you’re coming from, but…as your mother says, aren’t you punishing Rose for something Lily did?”
She wondered if anyone would ever take her side unconditionally. “I’m not even living in Ohio anymore, Dad. I inherited Great-Aunt Gertie’s house in St. Claire.”
There was a significant pause. “Hmm. Did your mother tell me that?”
“How would I know?” she asked with gentle exasperation.
“Then if I understand correctly, your mother and sisters are making mountains out of molehills again.”
“In my opinion, yes.”
“I’ll see if I can smooth things over then. Do you need anything? Is Gertie’s place in livable condition?”
The offer was so tempting because her dad would send her money if she asked, but he’d go through her mother since she controlled the purse strings. Dad didn’t earn a whole lot writing scholarly articles about ancient Rome and Greece, and he’d lost his professor post due to a lamentable tendency to forget that he was supposed to be teaching and giving lectures.
“I’m fine,” she lied.
“Love you, flower. Sorry you always end up in the center of all the drama.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
After she disconnected, she reflected that it would’ve been nice, had her father been the type to shield her. But when he “stepped in,” the situation never improved, and Iris got accused of trying to pit her parents against each other. Dad wasn’t forceful enough to make a difference, and his wishy-washy approach often made things worse. Her mood was a bit glum as she ate the rest of her oatmeal.
As she washed her bowl, Eli came into the kitchen. “Hungry?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I ate earlier.”
“What did you have?” Iris was always looking for economical meal suggestions.
Eli tilted his head like that was an odd question. But he answered, “Scrambled eggs and toast.”
“Oh, eggs. Eggs are cheap. Note to self, buy eggs. Let’s go?” Oddly, she didn’t even need to clarify that she meant to the hardware store, not the supermarket.
Eli was a rare bird who could follow her thought processes, which were an awful lot like six squirrels unexpectedly loosed in a bouncy house.
This morning, his truck was parked behind her Sentra in the driveway, so it made sense for him to drive. She suspected he would also volunteer to retrieve the porch-fixing lumber for Henry Dale when the time came. At the rate they were going, she’d owe them both far more than a meal. Not that her homemade food was anything to brag about.
She didn’t say much as he drove to Carruthers Hardware. The men who ran the store were a married couple, and she thought one of them said his dad had owned the place before. Keeping track of details wasn’t her strong point, however. Iris greeted the dark-haired man who managed the place with a friendly wave.
“Back for more supplies?” Bruce called.
“You know it. Mitch doing okay?”
“He’s great. I’ll let him know you asked about him. He was all excited about the sale flyer he posted on social media yesterday. Any chance you saw it?”
“We did,” Iris assured him. “That’s why we’re here!”
That was the benefit of shopping at a store like this one instead of a big box place: learning people’s names and feeling like part of the community. She headed for the paint section since she knew where it was; she’d been here to buy the sage green a couple of weeks ago. For a minute, she stood looking at the color cards, trying to make up her mind. As Eli had said, it would be easier to use one color, but it had to be the right one, something pretty and peaceful.
“Any winners so far?” Eli asked.
She jumped a bit. He’d come up behind her so quietly that she didn’t even sense a flicker of his presence. “Not yet. This is an important decision. I can’t rush it.”
Her family would mock her for saying something like that. She could hear it now—It’s just paint, Iris. But it wasn’t, really. It was about building a mood, telling a story with each room, and picking a single color reduced the amount of personality she could imbue. But this was a safer and easier choice; she could use textiles to add visual interest, whatever the walls looked like.
Eli nodded. “Any favorites then?”
“I’m stuck between Snow Day and Harbor Mist.” The first was pale and should brighten the walls, while the second was a cool gray.
“If the rooms were bigger, I’d say Harbor Mist, but with the space—”
“Snow Day then. We’ll look at this as offering a clean canvas. I’ll supply the basics, and our future roomies can figure out the rest.”
“Sounds reasonable. I like how you did the main bedroom.”
“I painted it green when I was planning to move in there,” she admitted. “But then I realized I could turn the attic into a studio and sleep up there.”