Everywhere and Every Way(28)

"Me too." She glanced at her phone and the incoming text. "My call was rescheduled, so I can head out with you."

"How's the hotel?"

"Good. First-class pampering."

"It must be nice having everything done for you," Sydney remarked. "You  need it, with your work schedule. How are you settling into Harrington?  Have you been able to explore the town and have some downtime?"

Morgan sighed. "By the time I get to the hotel, I'm exhausted. I've seen  a lot of the shops, though, and been looking forward to using some  pieces to decorate the house."

"Have you gone to the Barn?"

She shook her head. "No."

Sydney clapped her hands. "Oh, I have to take you. You'll go nuts. It's  this huge old farmhouse converted into a place filled with antiques and  unique finds."

Her heart picked up the pace. There was nothing she loved more than  finding a shop that surprised her. Especially since their last  conversation had her doubting her choices. Maybe browsing more would  help. "I always research the area for local stores, but nothing came up  with that name on my Google search. Can you tell me where it is?"

"That's because the Barn doesn't have a website. The owner is  old-school. I'll do better. You need some girl time. Hell, so do I. It's  located right on the edge of town, next to my favorite bar, called My  Place. We'll shop, then grab a burger and a cocktail."

The idea of having a relaxing night out with a new friend was too  intriguing to deny. She was getting tired of being the only female in  the boys' club. "I'm in."

Sydney gave a squee. "Great! I can line up a sitter for Wednesday night, if that works?"

"Oh, I didn't realize you had kids."

A shadow crossed her usual sunny face. "I have one. A daughter."

"I bet your husband dotes on her." Morgan imagined a little red-haired  girl like her mama. The pang hurt, but just for a moment, and when she  smiled, it was genuine.

"No husband. I'm a single mom. Always was." She paused, and her chin lifted an inch. "Is that a problem?"         

     



 

Morgan jerked back. "Oh, my goodness, no! She's welcome to join us,  Sydney. We can do a girls' shopping trip and eat burgers. I'd love to  meet your daughter."

Sydney relaxed and smiled back. "Sorry, sometimes in a small town where  you've lived your whole life, people judge. Bad habit. Thanks for the  invite, but she's four years old, so I think she'd have more fun with a  sitter and a Disney movie."

"Then Wednesday is perfect. Thanks."

"Awesome! God, I haven't been out in ages. Now, let's get out of here before we turn into pumpkins."

They left, and Morgan drove to the hotel, looking forward to Wednesday night.


"I've died and gone to HGTV heaven."

Morgan looked around the massive space and swayed on her feet. A bit  woozy from the excitement, she spun around, head back, smile on her  face, and let herself revel in the glory of such a find. The Barn was a  giant red farmhouse with creaky double doors and a tiny sagging sign at  the end of a winding gravel path situated close to the woods. She'd been  doubtful at first, feeling as if she were stepping onto the set of a  horror movie.

Until she got inside.

The two-story loft was filled to the brim with furniture, mirrors,  signs, rugs, and endless accent pieces. Some were antique, some seemed  new, and every taste and design was represented. There seemed no  organization to it, and paper tags were attached to each item with a  handwritten cost. One battered desk held an old-fashioned cash register.  The back room contained old wood and various pieces that needed to be  refurbished. It was a complete gold mine.

Sydney laughed. "Now you're starting to scare me. It's just stuff."

"Glorious stuff. Stuff that may save my job, because I've been stuck on  this one. I know the general look I want to achieve, but they threw me  off during our last meeting. They're new Hollywood, not old money. The  Rosenthals want people to come to their house and be impressed but not  be able to explain why. It can't be about a room full of expensive  furniture or antiques. It has to look effortless, like throwing on a  shirt and jeans, yet the outfit is so perfect, everyone stares."

Sydney blinked. "Wow. You're good. I never thought furniture and decor could do all that."

"Oh, it can. You won't be bored, right? I think we're going to spend some time in here."

"I have a toddler at home. I go to the grocery store and have breakdowns in Target. I'm good."

"Okay. Let's do this."

Morgan fell into the place like a woman fell in lust. Violently hopeful,  voraciously needy, and hungry for satisfaction. She found a chaise  lounge set reminding her of old-time Hollywood, the graceful carved  wooden legs and velvet texture worn and faded. Beaded pillows in jeweled  colors and hand-stitched afghans. Beveled glass mirrors so heavy, she  could barely lift them. A mahogany dresser and matching nightstand with  peacocks hand-carved into the wood. A jewelry armoire with double doors  and ripped burgundy interior. Vivid watercolor paintings on canvas with  chipped frames, sculptures of Greek goddesses in marble, and rugs with  golden tassels in rich, swirling patterns that reminded her of medieval  castles.

Her head spun with possibilities. Between Dalton's, Tristan's, and her  own expertise, she knew she could furnish a good chunk of the house with  finds from the Barn. They needed love and renovation, and each piece  told a story and would be the focus of the room.

Usually at every step she would question whether each pick would fit the  personality and lifestyle of her client. But this time she seemed off.  Maybe it was best to go with a different approach. Trust her gut instead  of the couple's last feedback. What if she designed this home by  allowing the furnishings to dictate the theme? One outstanding piece  would pull the room together. Then she'd build the Rosenthals' flavor  and style around the centerpiece.

She'd Tim Gunn it and make it work.

Morgan set up a revolving account with Mr. Reynolds, the owner and  seemingly only worker at the place. She tagged her buys and made  arrangements to come back later in the week to go through the rest of  her list. Once she mentioned Caleb and his brothers, he relaxed and  seemed willing to work with her on finding more pieces that might fit  her vision.

When they finally reached the bar, Morgan slid onto her chair, exhausted  but replete with satisfaction. Sydney shook her head and laughed. "You  look like you just had sex."

Morgan didn't even have the strength to blush. "I feel like it. Maybe  this is why I love my job, too. I've become a professional shopper."         

     



 

"Braggart."

Morgan grinned and looked around. This was definitely not the type of  bar-restaurant boasted about in the village of Harrington. It was a  massive open space with a huge potential for greatness, but it needed  some TLC. The rustic raftered ceiling, scarred wood floors, and eclectic  art pieces made of odd assortments of wood screamed vintage. The bar  must've been impressive years ago, with a huge brick wall setting off  the endless bottles and glasses displayed with pride. The old mahogany  was stripped and dull, and the surface needed refinishing, but if it  were ever restored, it would be a mighty presence. The shadowed interior  kept things intimate, encouraging secrets to be shared. The pool table  and dartboard in the back contributed to the atmosphere of casualness,  and the booths and chairs were simple wood with red vinyl padding.  Knickknacks exploded from shelves and corners: bobbleheads, festive shot  glasses, pictures, and interestingly shaped mirrors. Two big-screen  televisions took up the corners. The scents of burgers and fries drifted  in the air, and an impressive line of drafts was set up to satisfy a  range of beer tastes.

"Whatcha drinking, ladies?"

The bartender had long coal-black hair that curled wildly around her  face, inky dark eyes, and a badass manner. A diamond glinted in the side  of her nose, and her nails were long and scarlet red. She wore jeans  and a leather-fringed tank top and had a tattoo on her shoulder of a  knife glinting with blood at the tip. Fascinated, Morgan leaned in.  "White wine. Chardonnay. I like your tat."

The woman gave her a hard stare, as if trying to decide if she was being  mocked. Finally she nodded. "Thanks." She turned to Sydney. "You?"

"Harp."

Her movements were lightning quick and graceful, and in seconds, their  glasses were in front of them. Sydney and Morgan shared an impressed  look. Sydney spoke up. "You're new here, right? Heard they got a new  owner."

The woman cocked a hip, crossed her arms in front of her chest, and scowled. "I'm the owner."

Sydney grinned. "Awesome. We needed some new blood in this place. Do the burgers still rock?"

"They're better." The woman paused, then seemed to make a decision. "I'm Raven."