Flippin’ Cowboy by Ophelia Sexton
Chapter 5: The Devil in a Pink Tool Belt
The door stuck fast in its frame for an instant longer before whooshing open.
Two women, one petite and silver-haired, the other taller by a head and at least forty years younger, turned to face him with startled expressions. The younger woman wore a heavy parka with The Renovation Channel’s logo embroidered on the breast and upper sleeve. Brand-new, dark-blue jeans hugged her long, sturdy legs above well-worn steel-toed work boots.
She had big hazel eyes and long brown hair caught up in a ponytail under a wide knitted fuchsia pink headband, and a wide, generous mouth outlined in pale pink lip gloss.
Is this Karla Jones?Nick wondered.
She looked familiar, though he couldn’t place her.
“Demolishit? Over my dead body!” he snarled. He glared at the older woman. “Mrs. Snowberry, when I invested in this project, you promised me we’d save it and restore it to its former glory!”
Most people shrank and cowered when Nick yelled at them. He might’ve felt guilty about that, except he wasn’t the type to yell and intimidate unless it was called for.
And it was most definitely called for in this situation.
Mrs. Snowberry surprised him.
“Oh, there you are!” she exclaimed and smiled at him, apparently unbothered by his unintentionally dramatic entrance, his scowl, or his raised voice. “I was hoping you’d be able to join us in time for the initial walkthrough.”
Nick’s face heated. He forced himself to apologize. “Sorry I’m late.” He couldn’t help adding, “But you can’t seriously be considering a complete demolition of this historic house!”
“My general contractor and I were simply discussing all of our options, now that she’s had the opportunity to tour the property. We haven’t decided on anything yet,” Mrs. Snowberry said smoothly. She smiled, her bright blue eyes glowing with amusement. “Nick, have you met my GC?” She turned to the young woman at her side. “Winter, this is Nick Evans, my partner investor in the Snowberry Springs Inn, and a passionate historical preservationist.”
Winter?Nick was beginning to have a bad feeling about this too-good-to-be-true deal.
It can’t be, he told himself. For one thing, the woman at Mrs. Snowberry’s side wasn’t wearing that fucking pink hard hat and the matching pink tool belt he despised. And her face looked different, too, from the person on TV.
“I know who he is,” Winter said, her tone clipped.
Mrs. Snowberry’s smile didn’t falter. She looked like she was enjoying herself. “Nick, this is my granddaughter, Winter. You may have seen her on TV.”
Nick blinked at her in disbelief.
“Winter… Winnie Snowberry?” he croaked, hoping against hope it wasn’t true. “The Winnie Snowberry? From Seattle?”
Fuck, he thought. This couldn’t be happening. The Renovation Channel’s producer couldn’t seriously be thinking of pairing him with her, of all the general contractors featured on their network!
Nick wasn’t a religious man, but he was praying hard right now. Please no, God. Let this be a different person.
But how many female GCs with the last name of Snowberry could there be?
And now that he looked more closely, her shining brown hair was about the right length, though the star of Restoring Seattle normally wore it down around her shoulders on her show.
Winnie grinned at him, but her eyes were cold.
“The one and only fake celebrity flipper,” she said in a snarky tone. “Nice to meet you, Nick,” she added in a way that made it perfectly clear she wasn’t any happier about this than he was.
In despair, he turned to Mrs. Snowberry. “This is the ‘experienced and trusted contractor’ you and Karla Jones want me to work with? You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“Hold on,” Winnie interjected. “Like I’m thrilled to be working with Mr. Tall, Dark and Snarky!” Her dark, finely shaped brows drew together in a frown. “I mean, this guy’s never seen a restoration he’s liked… except for his own, of course.”
Nick rounded on her. “Oh, yeah? I’m not the one who painted the original mahogany wainscoting and trim work in a Victorian! That was really fucking unforgivable!”
Winnie crossed her arms and glowered at him. “You remember that, but you’ve forgotten that I argued against painting over that woodwork?” She shook her head. “All it needed was a bit of sanding and staining. Geoff was the one who insisted on painting it, and as the show’s designer, he got the final word on design decisions.”
Her mouth twisted on that last sentence, as if she’d bitten into something sour.
“Yeah, well, aren’t you glad you two aren’t working together anymore?” Nick sneered.
A spasm of pain crossed Winnie’s face, and Nick instantly regretted his words.
“I’m sorry,” he said, as she was drawing an outraged breath, probably intending to read him the riot act. “That was a low blow. I shouldn’t have said that.”
She released her breath in a long exhalation. Her shoulders slumped. “Damn right you shouldn’t have. But apology accepted.”
Then she turned to Mrs. Snowberry. “Time for me to going to get going, Grandma.”
“Did you get everything you needed?” Mrs. Snowberry asked.
“Yeah, I’ve seen everything I need to see in here,” Winnie replied, carefully not looking at Nick. “I’ll draw up an estimate for the repairs and upgrades we talked about, and then you, Karla, and me should sit down and hash out a restoration plan that fits within your budget. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
She turned on her heel and marched out, closing the door very firmly behind her.
“Is she really a general contractor?” Nick asked in the uncomfortable silence following her departure. “She seems awfully… young.”
None of the GCs he knew were so young. Or so pretty. Or wore pink hard hats and pink tool belts with cute pink tools.
Winnie Snowberry drove him crazy every time she came on-screen in Restoring Seattle.
Over the show’s three seasons, he’d concluded that she was just a poser and that a less-photogenic GC was working behind the scenes to do all the real work on the houses featured.
Mrs. Snowberry peered at him in surprise. “Of course she is!” Indignation tinged her voice. “And a good one, too. Haven’t you seen her work on Restoring Seattle?”
He shrugged. He didn’t want to admit that he watched the show faithfully every week.
Instead, he finally focused on his surroundings and looked around. The downstairs layout felt original, with wide cased openings facing each other on the left and right side of the entrance hall, leading into what had originally been the dining room and parlor. At the back of the foyer, the hotel’s check-in desk stretched across an arched opening that presumably led to a kitchen and a pantry, and possibly a downstairs bathroom.
Next to the arched opening, a grand staircase with an intact carved newel post led up to the second story.
He could strip and restore the wood trim around the parlor and dining room doorways. Likewise the home’s original staircase. As for the rest…
“What do you think?” Mrs. Snowberry’s voice broke into his thoughts.
“It looks like a complete gut job in here,” he said. “Not a lot of original features left.”
And nothing he wanted to save from the horrible, terrible, no-good renovations that disfigured these once-elegant Victorian rooms.
He added, “But this house has good bones. I think we can restore it.”
Behind him, the front door creaked open.
“I’m glad to hear that,” a feminine voice tinged with a soft Gulf Coast accent said. “Hi, Abigail.”
He spun to face the newcomer and found himself facing a stylishly dressed Black woman with loosely curling dark hair cut into a bob.
She and Mrs. Snowberry exchanged hugs, then she said, “Nick Evans, I presume? I’m Karla Jones, executive producer of Reviving Snowberry Springs.”
She extended her hand and stepped forward.
Nick stripped off his right glove and shook hands with her. “Pleased to meet you in person at last, Ms. Jones.”
“Call me Karla,” she said, with an irresistibly warm smile. “And may I call you Nick?”
“Of course,” he replied. “Whenever I hear ‘Mr. Evans,’ I think someone’s looking for my dad.”
Her answering laugh was deep and throaty.
“I just saw Winnie driving off,” Karla said. “How did your walkthrough go? Did you two have a chance to discuss your plan for restoring this place?” She tilted her head, her brown eyes studying him. “The plan is to film you and Winnie doing your official walkthrough tomorrow. Both of you need to be on the same page about the scope of work and restoration plan here.”
“You mean, it’s going to be a problem if one of us wants to demolish this beautiful building, and the other person wants to bring it back to life?” Nick asked, not trying to hide his sarcasm.
“Winnie doesn’t want to demolish this house any more than you do,” protested Mrs. Snowberry. “She was merely presenting all the options available within our current budget.”
Nick snorted. “Yeah, right.” He faced Karla. “Look, Winnie Snowberry is absolutely the wrong person to collaborate with on this restoration project.”.
Karla’s eyes widened in surprise. “Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind about working on the show?”
“No, of course not!” Nick protested. “I love the idea of restoring this house. And on my way over here, I saw some other buildings that could use a good restoration, including that gem of a train station.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “I just can’t work with someone who has as little respect for historical preservation as—as Winnie Snowberry! Surely there’s some other photogenic general contractor in Montana I could work with on your show!”
All the warmth disappeared from Karla’s expression. “Nick, I don’t think you understand how this works,” she said, her tone cool. “Even if I wanted to fire Winnie—which I don’t, by the way—the network execs would never stand for it.”
“But—” Nick protested, ready to launch into his case.
Karla made a sharp, imperious gesture with her hand, cutting him off. “Winnie is the sole reason we got the network to pick up this show. She’s the celebrity draw here, not you.”
“That’s not fair—” Nick tried again.
“No Winnie, no show,” Karla said firmly. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Besides, as this building’s owner, I get the final say on whether you get to work on the restoration, young man,” Mrs. Snowberry added.
Two pairs of eyes, one dark brown and one bright blue, stared at him challengingly. Heat rose in his face.
After a long moment, Karla said, “This is how it’s going to be, Nick. Either you show up for the filmed walkthrough with Winnie tomorrow and play nice, or we’ll refund your investment and find someone else who’s willing to take on this restoration as part of our Reviving Snowberry Springs project. You have until the end of the day to make your decision.”
“I—I see,” Nick managed. In his wildest dreams, he never thought his big break would play out like this.
“Now, if you’d like to look at the rest of the house, you’re welcome to do so,” Mrs. Snowberry said, unsmiling.
“That would be great,” Nick said numbly.
Tablet in hand, he trudged up the stairs.
His thoughts whirled as he mechanically took photos of the damaged second floor and wrote himself notes. Can I do this? Can I really work with the woman I’ve publicly criticized and mocked for years?
He could only imagine the firestorm of commentary that would descend on his head if he announced that he and Winnie-fucking-Snowberry were partnering up on a restoration project.
Was selling out to HomeRenoTV a price worth paying to achieve his dream of preserving Montana’s unique heritage?