“And earn more,” Eli said.
She grinned. “There is that as well.”
“Do you have painting supplies already? If not, I have some in my truck.”
That made sense if he’d just finished flipping a house. Iris wondered idly how that worked; did the owners often let him stay there while fixing it up? But when it was ready to be sold, he probably had to relocate quickly, and it was probably tough to know exactly what date that would happen.
“I have what I used for the main bedroom, not enough for two people, though. So if you’re willing to dedicate your own—”
“Of course, it’s no problem. Then we just need the paint and some new plastic sheets for the floors.” He hesitated. “I know you don’t have much to spend on house reno, but I was thinking… We’ll probably have paint left over. If we buy some self-adhesive wallpaper, we could do an accent wall in the front room then use the leftover paint in there.”
Iris could imagine the wall he meant; it was widest one in the space, and it was currently an eyesore, painted in some dreadful sponge-daubing technique that was supposed to make it look like a Venetian palazzo but failed on all counts. Neither the colors nor the style worked with the rest of the house. She’d figured that living with it was the only option, but now Eli gave her hope for a reasonably priced fix.
“Were you thinking of doing the paper above the wainscoting?” Which her great-aunt had painted dusty blue for some reason.
“Exactly. I have some primer left in my truck. We can do Snow Day on the wainscoting and other walls.”
Just then, she spotted a bin of deeply discounted wallpaper. “I think I see why you’re suggesting this. I’ll tell Bruce what color we need and take a look.” She headed to the counter with the color card. “We need four gallons of Snow Day. There will be other odds and ends, so don’t ring us up yet.”
“I would never,” Bruce said with a smile. “You might find something else you can’t live without.”
As Iris went over to the discount wallpaper bin, the bell on the door jangled, and an older woman she’d never seen breezed in. She had white hair gloriously tumbled in unruly curls, haphazardly tied with a floral scarf that didn’t match the different flower pattern on her billowing dress. This woman was also wearing lime-green Crocs, ruffled ankle socks, and a gorgeous rainbow cardigan that immediately made Iris jealous because she didn’t own one just like it. She whipped past Iris in a swirl of blackberry and jasmine. Iris breathed in the scent and wondered what perfume the woman was wearing.
“Mom! I didn’t know you were stopping in today.” Bruce was beaming as he came out from behind the counter and gave her a hug.
“I didn’t know myself. But I was baking today, and I thought of you and Mitch. You both like my cheesecake squares, right? I packed a few for you.” She dug into her bucket bag and produced a small container.
“Are you kidding? We’ll inhale them. Thank you!” Bruce pulled the lid off to snag one, and even from this distance, she could smell the lemony sweetness. “Are you still staying at Ethel’s place?”
“Worrying about me again?” Exasperated tone, delivered with a gentle pat on his arm.
Bruce sighed. “You haven’t had a permanent address since you and Dad divorced. I’m the last person who would insist you stay in an unfulfilling marriage, especially after what we talked about. But—”
“You’re still worried. Look, I promised Ethel I’d take care of Percy until she gets back from the Caribbean. After that, I’ll find a place, okay?”
“Sounds reasonable. I love you. And I’m proud of you, even if the rest of the family doesn’t understand.”
“I knew you would,” Bruce’s mom said in a fond tone.
The older woman swirled out as swiftly as she’d come, and Iris realized she had been staring at the wallpaper without really seeing it as she unashamedly eavesdropped. Why? Because it seemed like Bruce’s mom might need somewhere to stay. Wonder how she would get along with Henry Dale.
Of the bargains offered, only two patterns spoke to her. The white-and-black herringbone would be difficult to line up properly, which would make it more time-consuming, and it didn’t match the feel of the house. She picked up two rolls of the gray-and-white damask. That would class up the room and go nicely with the paint. I can probably get covers for some of the furniture too. Iris took the wallpaper to the counter while waiting for Eli.
“I wasn’t trying to listen in,” she said to Bruce. “But in a week or two, I’ll have more rooms to rent if you think your mom might be interested.”
“That would be great. She’s never lived alone, and she’s a social butterfly, so I’ve been concerned about her. My dad and mom were together for forty years, and then… Well, it’s best if I let her tell you. If she chooses to.”
“I hear senior divorces are on the rise,” Iris said.
“True.” The hardware store owner seemed unwilling to proffer more details, and she didn’t pry. “I’ll take your name and email if that’s okay?”
“You can have my cell number too if you want.”
“Perfect.”
She entered the info into the Notes app on his phone as Eli walked up with the plastic and a few extra trays. “All set?” he asked.
Smiling, she said, “Yeah. Maybe more than I expected.”
* * *
Eli wasn’t sure what Iris meant by that.
But she explained without him asking as they hauled their purchases out to his truck. He laughed as she went into great detail describing the woman’s hand-knit rainbow sweater. It sounded like Iris had already made up her mind about renting a room, even if she didn’t even know the lady’s name.
Why wasn’t it this easy to talk with anyone else? With Iris, conversations just happened; he didn’t need to fish frantically for new topics.
It’s so restful.
He stopped, shading his eyes to be sure of what he was seeing. Across the square, two women were scrubbing what looked like a nasty piece of graffiti from their shop. Someone had added “WILL BURN” to the Fix-It Witches logo in sloppy red spray paint. Iris followed his gaze and sighed.
“I guess even St. Claire has some badness,” Iris said.
“You’re okay with them? Witches, I mean.” That was definitely a fact-finding question. Her attitude toward witches would tell him a lot about how she might react to him being a shifter.
“I try to treat everyone equally,” she said. “But honestly, I’ve never met one…that I know of. But I think that’s what has people riled up. The sense that it could be anyone and that humanity has been…infiltrated. Ugh. I don’t even know why we’re talking about this.”
That response didn’t offer as much insight into her thoughts as he’d hoped, but it would likely seem strange to persist. He wanted to say something about HAPI—Humans Against Paranormal Influence—and see how she reacted. Chapters had sprung up all over, and a former local politician had been yelling online about it for several years. Now others were joining Dan Rutherford, and Eli hated to see the movement gain traction.