Chapter 2. House Plans and Wedding Plans

WHITNEY

After taking careful measurements of the fire station, Buck and I thanked Betsy Peabody for allowing us to tour the property, took the stairs down to the first floor, and exited the building. The intense August sun beat down on the pavement, and the pavement deflected the heat right back up. If we stood here too long, the soles of our boots might melt. I made a mental note to include flowering dogwood trees in my design. The small trees would provide pretty pink blooms in the spring and light shade in the summer, without overpowering the building. Forsythia bushes would make nice accents closer to the road. They produced striking yellow blooms early each spring and lush foliage through the fall.

As we stopped next to our vehicles in the front parking lot, Buck turned to me. "How much do you think we should offer for this place?"

I chewed my lip, excited about this project but worried we might not be the winning bidders if we offered only asking price or below. Germantown properties, even ones in need of major rehab, went for top dollar. I'd hate to lose this unique opportunity. I performed some quick mental math. By my rough estimate, the cost of materials would be in the range of forty to fifty grand. We'd supply the labor, so there'd be no outlay of cash for workers but, if we bid too high, we wouldn't make enough profit for the project to be worth our time and effort. The remodel would take at least three months, and Buck and I would split any profit fifty-fifty, so the profit margin had to be twice the amount of a reasonable salary for that time period. Still, I thought we could go fifteen thousand over asking price and still make a nice chunk of change when we resold it. Both Buck and I had good credit, and we'd been pre-approved for a loan that would cover the amount we'd need. "What do you think about fifteen over?"

"Let's do it," Buck said.

We parted ways in the fire station parking lot. While he headed out to help his father with a carpentry job, I drove home to work on the design for the firehouse. I had no formal design training, but I was addicted to rehab shows, magazines, and websites. Not to brag on myself, but I might have a little natural talent, too. I'd worked carpentry jobs with my uncle and cousins for years, so I knew how to blend form and function.

As I pulled into the driveway of my home, the stone cottage in the Belmont-Hillsboro neighborhood of Nashville, my buff-colored cat Sawdust stood atop the cat tree in the front window, arching his back in a deep stretch. He put a paw to the window in greeting, happy to see me. I was happy to see the sweet little guy, too. Before I'd fallen in love with Detective Collin Flynn, Sawdust had been my number-one guy. Now, the two shared my affections.

Sawdust hopped down and met me at the door as I walked in. His partner-in-crime, a cute calico kitty named Cleo, came skittering out of the kitchen. The adorable kitten belonged to my roommate Emmalee. After tossing my purse onto the couch and treating both the cats to an ear rub, I went to the kitchen. There, I found Emmalee warming up a mug of the morning's leftover coffee in the microwave. She wore her chef's uniform, her long mahogany hair pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. She worked as the assistant manager of Colette's eatery, the Collection Plate Café.

"Off to work?" I asked.

She downed the coffee in three quick gulps. "The playhouse is sold out tonight," she said as she rinsed the mug and placed it in the dishwasher. "The café is going to be busy."

"I hope it'll be filled with big tippers."

"You and me both." She cocked her head. "How'd the firehouse tour go?"

"We're planning to make an offer, but we're not the only ones in the running. It's going to be competitive."

She raised her hands and crossed her fingers. "Good luck!" She grabbed her purse, bade me and the cats goodbye, and headed out the door.

For two people who lived together, Emmalee and I rarely saw each other. We both had busy careers. My work started early, and I was often gone before she climbed out of bed in the mornings. She worked late most nights, and regularly arrived home after I'd gone to sleep. I hoped it wouldn't be the same for me and Collin once we were married.

I plopped myself down on a stool at the breakfast bar with my computer, a pencil, and a pad of graph paper. Sawdust hopped up to lie on my lap, while Cleo sat on the counter, batting at my pencil as I moved it across the pad, sketching designs for the firehouse. As I worked, I consulted the pics I'd taken earlier.

Large metal lockers stood along the back wall of the garage bay for the firefighters' turnout gear. The lockers would make great storage spaces, so we'd leave them in place and coat them with bright yellow paint akin to the stripes on firefighter gear. Red paint would be fun for the exterior door. I'd use the same color on the kitchen and bathroom cabinets. New black countertops and appliances would look great in the kitchen. An online search led me to a site that sold cabinet knobs in the shape of fire hydrants. Perfect. The wood flooring on the second story was worn down in the high-traffic areas, evidencing decades of firefighter feet having traversed the building. But while some might see the uneven flooring as a flaw, I saw it as character. We'd leave the floors in place, though we'd sand them and apply fresh stain. A soft yellow paint would work well on the walls. Or maybe a pale gray? I'd get samples of each and see how they looked once the other work was completed. This place is going to look so cute when we're done with it!

The living area and kitchen planned, I turned my attention to the bedrooms and bathroom. Because the rooms were designed to be used by multiple firefighters at once, all were especially spacious. I flipped to the next page of the pad, sketched the current bedroom and bathroom layout, and stared at the draft, considering our options. Hmm. One of the bedrooms could remain as is to serve as the master. We'd put up a wall to divide the other bedroom in two, turning the place into a three-bedroom home. The ugly, utilitarian bathroom could likewise be divided in two. We'd add an entry from the master into a spa-style bath, with a walk-in shower, freestanding soaking tub, and toilet with a bidet attachment and heated seat, which were all the rage. In the secondary bath, it could be cute to leave one of the metal toilet stalls in place, and paint it red. The other stall would be replaced by a standard tub and shower. Hexagonal white tile would look great in both baths.

Now, for the rooftop patio. A perimeter railing of sturdy metal posts with black cables would provide safety without obstructing the view. A propane-powered firepit would make a nice focal point, and provide warmth and ambiance on cool evenings. A slatted cover would provide respite from the sun on hot summer days. Outdoor curtains could be added to soften the look and provide privacy.

I proceeded to sketch the designs and typed up a detailed description of our plans. When I was done, I e-mailed a copy to Betsy Peabody along with the amount of our bid, and cc'd Buck. I crossed my fingers and looked to the heavens. Please let them accept our proposal!

As the deities pondered our fate and that of the old fire station, I turned to a matter that I could control—my wedding. I'd always been a homebody and an introvert, preferring a small handful of close, trusted friends to a large roster of gal pals. Though I wasn't lacking in confidence, I didn't generally relish being the center of attention. My heart sang at the thought of becoming Collin's wife, but we'd agreed to keep the ceremony short and sweet, and the celebration fun but simple. Even so, there still seemed to be a million and one details to sort out for the celebration. Making a guest list. Selecting invitations. Registering for gifts. Making a wedding website. Finding a deejay and drafting a playlist. And of course, we needed a place to host the event, so choosing a venue was at the top of the list. In fact, Collin and I planned to tour several venues over the next week.

For now, I could work on my part of the guest list and the registry. The only gift Collin wanted for our wedding was a GPS attachment for his computerized telescope. We planned to spend our honeymoon in North Carolina, stargazing in Hominy Valley and various spots along the Blue Ridge Parkway, before continuing on to the Outer Banks, home to lighthouses, the tallest sand dunes on the east coast, and a herd of wild horses, not to mention the Lost Colony of Roanoke and the site of the Wright Brothers' famous first flight. I could hardly wait!

I spent the next quarter hour making a list of family and friends I wanted to invite to the wedding, knowing my mother would add some names, as well. Collin was making a list, too, and I'd asked his mother to provide me with names and addresses for those she'd like us to invite. Her list had been provided promptly, and was quite long. We'd need a sizable venue to accommodate everyone.

Once I'd completed the guest list, I began searching for things online that we could add to our registry. Having both lived on our own for several years, there was little we lacked. We had plenty of dishes and cookware, bedding and towels, and decorative items. In fact, we'd probably be getting rid of duplicate items when we merged our households. Would it be weird to register for a new drill press? I figured it was no less weird than the GPS thingamabob that Collin wanted, so I started a gift registry at Ace Hardware, adding an electric dust collector, too.

These tasks completed, I took a shower and headed to bed. I plugged in my phone to charge and sent a text to Collin, checking in. How was your day?

It was a half hour later when his reply finally arrived. By then, I was two chapters into a new murder mystery novel. Busy. Working a double homicide. Appears to be drug related.

The duties of a homicide detective were hardly nine to five. Of course, the same went for a house flipper. Buck and I often worked evenings and weekends, though I had so much fun seeing my visions come to life that I didn't much mind so long as it wasn't keeping me from time with Collin.

Knowing my fiancé was busy, I simply sent him a kissy face emoji along with We'll catch up later. Sighing, I set my phone down on the night table. It was a good thing Collin and I would be moving in together after the wedding. Cohabitation was the only chance we had of seeing each other on a regular basis.

I turned out the light. Sawdust shifted into position next to me, and I draped an arm over him. I gave him a soft kiss on the head. "Good night, boy."

He revved up his purr and settled his face on the blanket.