“Don’t talk about her that way! Actually, don’t talk about anyone that way. That’s incredibly hateful. And hurtful.” Iris’s palm itched to deliver a slap, but that would just get her hauled in by the police. Again.
“Fantastic. You’re one of those. No wonder.”
Iris spoke through clenched teeth. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re trying to police my thoughts and actions. This is a free country. I can say what I want! I wonder how you ended up so sensitive yet so rude at the same time. You don’t even know basic manners and you’re lecturing me?”
“Seems to me you’re the rude one,” Henry Dale said quietly. “Miz Collins apologized when you came looking for a scrap. And now you’re disrespecting her deceased auntie. Does that seem like good manners to you, ma’am? Truly?”
Susan clamped her mouth shut, seeming at a loss for words. She aimed another hateful look at the house that didn’t live up to her standards. In contrast, Susan’s place was immaculate with no peeling paint; she’d chosen pale-yellow siding, and fake navy shutters framed the windows. Her hedges were geometric, and though it was autumn, everything about her property still somehow maintained a clean silhouette.
Finally, she said in a grudging tone, “I suppose I could have overreacted about not being apprised of your schedule for the repair work.”
“We’ll be out here for two or three days,” Eli said. “But we’ll try to keep it down.”
Iris bit back a sharp retort. Henry Dale had reined Susan in, and Eli seemed to be taking a conciliatory approach, so she shouldn’t fan the flames. “I intend for the house to be beautiful again, but it will take time.”
And money. So much money.
“The first thing you should do is get the place painted. Purple is a ridiculous color. If only we had a homeowners’ association to—”
“What color is preferable?” Iris asked tightly. She loved this purple house. Though she had no intention of painting it a “normal” color, she was curious what Susan would say.
Susan smiled, evidently imagining that she was being consulted. “White is a good choice. Or gray. A very pale blue might work. I believe the Victorians were fond of dark tones like olive or umber, but I’m not sure how it would look or how it would blend with the rest of the neighborhood. Whatever you decide, do be mindful of the rest of us. Your choices impact our property values.”
“I’ll remember that,” she muttered. But I don’t promise to care. Essentially, she was done with this conversation too. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
She went inside without another word, still fuming. They hadn’t even made that much noise. A few cuts on the saw? It hardly seemed worth all that drama, and how fucking unbelievable that Susan Calhoun imagined she had the right to advise Iris what to do with her own home. What a…harridan. Iris had been reading a historical romance the night before, and the word leapt into her mind from the pages of the book.
Wrath carried her all the way up to the attic, and she checked her online store for the first time today. Ten orders. I have ten orders. While she wouldn’t get rich from this, she was moving in the right direction. Excited, she packaged up the chosen pieces along with thank-you cards and a code for 10 percent off their next orders. The packages were small; she’d bought a number of gift boxes and padded shipping envelopes in setting up, which was part of why she hadn’t been able to pay rent at her old place.
Don’t think about past failures. Fresh start, remember?
She got online and created labels for each envelope—small and light translated to economical shipping, and she scheduled the pickup for tomorrow. Diving into design work—her favorite part—Iris lost track of time. It was hours later when a knock at her door drew her out of the wondrous world she lived in, most of the time. Sometimes she felt like she was trying to design things she’d seen in her dreams, and the reality never quite lived up to her imagination. Marvelous artifacts, jewels made of fruit and flowers—ah, it was so disappointing to find that her creations didn’t match what was in her mind.
Standing, she stretched, rolling her neck and shoulders. “What’s up?” she called.
“You have a guest,” Eli answered.
Oh right. I was supposed to meet Mira.
“I’ll be right down! Can you offer tea or coffee?”
“On it.”
Quickly Iris brushed her hair and made sure she didn’t have any strange ink smears on her face, as sometimes happened when she was sketching. Then she hurried downstairs to meet their prospective housemate. When she got to the front room, Sally was chatting to Mira like they were old friends, showing off one of her knitting projects—a rainbow scarf to match the rainbow cardigan that Iris envied.
“It’s gorgeous,” Mira said.
She stood as Iris offered her hand. “Mira Yoon. Well, technically, it’s Mi-rae, but I go with Mira when I’m in the US. Which is most of the time.”
Iris took a seat. The other woman had short hair with a side part and an undercut. She wore a tailored black trouser suit with tasteful accessories, no makeup apart from a hint of lip color. “To recap, your sublet fell through, is that right?”
Mira nodded. “I’m in a bit of a bind.”
“Would you like to see the room first?” she asked.
“I think so. If I can’t see myself in the space, then there’s no point in chatting because I won’t be staying, even if we get along well.”
“Makes sense. You’d be on the third floor. This way.”
Mira didn’t say much on the way up, but Iris could tell she was making careful note. She probably noticed that all of the hallways needed to be painted, but that couldn’t be helped. At least she and Eli had done the bedrooms. Otherwise, nobody would be tempted by such cramped, dingy offerings. Without fanfare, she opened the door and let Mira have a look. What would deter most people was the wardrobe in place of a proper closet. Technically speaking, this room couldn’t be listed as a bedroom because of that.
“It’s small,” Mira said eventually.
“Yeah, that’s why it’s priced low. This is the bigger of the two rooms, to be honest.”
Immediately, Mira went across the hall with apparent curiosity and peeked in. “Wow, you weren’t kidding. This is…more of a nook, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. I wasn’t even sure if I should rent it at all.”
For storage solutions in the tiny room, she’d mounted a short bar on the wall for hanging clothes and set up shelving with cinder blocks and scrap wood she’d found in the shed. She’d painted some crates, and in addition, she’d created a daybed out of palettes and topped it with a new foam mattress. In her own boxes, she’d unearthed a string of fairy lights, and she’d affixed those above the bed. At least the walls were bright, right? Maybe somebody with imagination could do more with the space, as Iris had thought it best to leave the room like a blank canvas.
“This is quite clever,” Mira said.
“Thanks. I did the best I could.”
* * *
When Eli brought out the coffee Mira had requested, he learned that she was upstairs with Iris.