“How can I see where I’m going?”
“I’ll direct you.” She positioned him on the walkway. “You can open your eyes.”
He did. It took a few seconds for him to comment. “I like it. I’m not a flower person, but it makes all the difference.”
Priscilla grinned. The flower pots filled with colorful bouquets on the side of each step leading to the newly painted white door brought the entrance to life. “Ready to go in?”
At his nod, she linked her arm through his and walked to the house. She slipped the key out of her pocket and unlocked the door.
“Close your eyes again.”
He obeyed.
“Step over the threshold. That’s it. Now a few more steps, so I can close the door and put the light on,” she instructed. “All right, you can look.” Her voice rose with excitement and anticipation.
Griff whistled, low and long, as he took in the details. “It’s incredible.”
“Do you like the color?”
“Yes. I never thought I’d like blue or is it blue green?”
“Both. Would you like to see the living room?”
“Try to stop me,” he said, smiling at her.
With just a few steps and sweeping aside the temporary curtain, Priscilla ushered him into his new living room.
He strolled into the room, apparently taking it all in. He halted in the center of the room and slowly turned.
Priscilla held her breath, wondering if the same shade of blue on the two facing couches and the hints of it, along with dashes of tangerine, in the larger pillows on the white upholstered chairs would please him.
The chocolate brown edging on the walls carried into the fabrics and rug. The blue glass vases with a hint of glitter on them stood on side tables and she’d highlighted two of the black and white framed photographs with a touch of the same shade and a splash of orange, making the landscapes pop with color. The mix of candles and frames along with fresh white roses dotted the mantel.
She’d found a colorful coffee table photography book to display on the low table in front of the couches. She kept the room as simple yet cozy as possible, knowing he would hate anything too cluttered and fussy.
“As my wife would say,” he turned to face her, his eyes filled with light, “wow.”
She giggled.
“It’s amazing,” he said as he walked toward her. He cupped her face in his hands, saying, “You, Priscilla King—”
“Don’t forget the James.”
He sucked in a breath. “You, Priscilla King James, are simply amazing.”
She hoped he’d still say that once she put his pictures and stories of them on the website tomorrow.
***
Weeks had gone by and Griff’s house slowly transformed; each room displayed his wife’s talents and love of design. Simple. Chic. Elegant.
Only one of the four bedrooms remained to be finished. Of course, he already declared his study off-limits. Now he wondered if he should have barred her from touching that room.
The house once, not so long ago, had been dark and empty. Now each room had its own character and appeal. Most importantly, it was filled with light again.
And the store benefited. Interest on the website increased daily. She’d limited his pictures and edited some of their stories to feed curiosity, yet shield their privacy. Priscilla’s design tips had now blossomed into an exchange between viewers and herself.
Also, she’d run a contest, asking customers to submit a video clip of a short do-it-yourself project using one of King’s products. The winner each week would receive a hundred-dollar gift card to the store. A flood of entrants filled the email box. She’d assembled a team, including Rico, to view them and select the overall winners.
“Another home run,” he muttered, coming back into the kitchen.
“You talking baseball, Mr. G.?” Dolly asked, plunking down her overflowing handwritten cookbook on the counter.
“I was talking to myself. Priscilla’s done an incredible job on the house and at King’s, hence the home run comment.”
“Oh, my, ain’t she something? I love this kitchen.”
He smiled, looking at the small, but amazing changes to the once bland room. The aqua blue and chocolate brown glass back splash complimented the dark wood cabinets and granite countertops. The same blue color with a sliver of the tangerine in places carried through to the linens, the dining ware, and the cozy banquet. He beamed with pride at her accomplishments. “Let me help you unpack all your bowls and pans. It’s the least I can do since you agreed to make her favorite chocolate ganache cake as a surprise.”
“Ah, shucks, any excuse to spoil my girls, I say. And you’re a fine one, thinking of her and knowing just what she loves.”