“I was beginning to think you were going to stay in bed all day.”
Phoebe’s voice scared Delaney. She jumped, dumping the catalogs and her project binder on the floor. Papers with her chicken-scratch ideas and the shiny brochures she’d collected scattered.
“Oh, jeez.” Her heart slammed against her ribs, and she pressed her hand over the pain. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
Phoebe crouched and collected the papers, and she glanced up at Delaney with an expression that wavered somewhere between concern and suspicion. “Are you sick? Or did Ethan really wear you out that badly the other night?”
Delaney didn’t have the will to argue. She didn’t even have the energy to roll her eyes. But she did scowl. “I was thinking.”
“Uh-huh.” With a handful of brochures, Phoebe turned and dropped her knees to the side, sitting on the floor. “Bet you were.”
Delaney set everything in her hands on the coffee table and avoided her aunt’s probing eyes by gazing at the porch. “While I’m here, I was thinking about putting some pretty French doors in this room. And these floors would be gorgeous refinished. If I rent a sander for the bar, I’ll bring it over here and clean these up. It’ll be a quick and easy way to brighten up this beautiful porch. What do you think?”
“I think your evasion skills are as sharp as ever.”
“How do you feel about granite for a kitchen countertop? Or maybe quartz. Quartz has little sparkles. Bet you’d like that. You don’t have much counter space, so it wouldn’t be too expensive.”
“You’ve only got one more day.”
Delaney sighed and glanced down at her flurry of notes. “I know.”
She had a rough idea of the costs, the risks, and the potential outcomes in her head. No amount of looking at numbers was going to make this decision any easier, because her greatest barriers to taking this on were in her heart.
“If I promise to hold back all my sarcasm and smart remarks, will you talk to me about it?” Phoebe asked, her voice filled with sincere concern. “I’ve tried my best to let you handle this your way, in your own time, but I have to tell you, Delaney, I’m going a little insane with the way you’re letting time wind down to the last second.”
Guilt seeped in. She flicked a look at her aunt. “I have an appointment at four.”
“You do?” Her brows fell. “Are you sure? I’ve heard that Ethan is next to impossible to get an appointment with on short notice.”
“It wasn’t short notice. I made the appointment after you explained how Avery, Chloe, and I would be held responsible for the cost of the demolition. I know it seems like I’m in denial, but I don’t want this to explode into an even bigger problem for any of us than it already is. We all have enough challenges in our lives.
“At the same time, I don’t want to throw both money and time and effort away. If it’s a loss, I need to face it, suck it up, and move on, or it becomes an even bigger loss than it needs to be.”
Phoebe shook her head, covered one of Delaney’s hands with her own, and squeezed. “You never fail to impress me—you know that?”
“I couldn’t feel any more uninspiring if I tried.”
The truth was, the only place she felt inspired or relaxed or truly happy was with Ethan.
And that was a problem.
A real problem.
“To f
ace all this while thinking about your sisters and handling angry run-ins with Jack and Austin with grace is truly amazing,” Phoebe said with a shake of her head. “Don’t sell yourself short.”
Delaney frowned. “How’d you hear about the run-in with Austin?”
“Gus, the bartender at Patterson’s, is Joe Tilton’s cousin.”
“Who’s Joe Tilton?”
“The husband of one of my renters.”
“Of course, the store.” Delaney tossed her hands in the air. “I swear you could run the CIA out of that place.”
Phoebe grinned. “Maybe I already do.”