Flipped Out Read online

  I nodded. “She and Noel got married a couple of years ago. Second marriage for both of them. He’s the one who suggested that Derek and I should do an episode of your show.”

  “If Mr. Carrick suggested it, then I’m sure it’s a good idea,” Nina said loyally. “You’re familiar with the Waterfield Inn, I take it?”

  Derek and I both nodded. “Kate McGillicutty is my best friend,” I said, forgetting momentarily that she was Kate Rasmussen now.

  Derek added, “The Waterfield Inn is the nicest B and B in town. You’ll be comfortable there.”

  “We’re already settled in. Flew into Logan last night and drove up.” Nina smiled.

  The Waterfield Inn has only four guest rooms. The big suite on the third floor where Mom and Noel had stayed when they were here in December, and three regular-sized rooms on the second floor. There were five people on the TV crew. I couldn’t help wondering who was rooming with someone else. Adam and Nina? Adam and Fae?

  Or maybe no one was. There were two bedrooms on the first floor of the B&B, too, behind the kitchen and dining room, in the “private” part of the house. Kate and her daughter Shannon had lived in them until Kate married Wayne and the newlyweds moved out to the renovated carriage house. Shannon was still in hers, but maybe Kate had offered the other to Fae, while Nina was in the suite and the three guys had the three second-floor rooms. The first-floor rooms weren’t outfitted as guest rooms, but Fae might not mind, and she might even enjoy being next door to Shannon, who was close to her own age.

  Problem solved.

  While I’d been speculating on possible Hollywood hookups, Nina and Derek had moved on to the job ahead and what the next week would bring. Nina was explaining about the production schedule and why she’d prefer that he not wear the white T-shirt he had on while the cameras were rolling (too much of a contrast to his tanned face). She also said that we should avoid fabrics with patterns, like herringbone, corduroy, and pinstripes, all of which would create a wavy rainbow-colored pattern called a moiré effect on-screen. Since it was July and hot, and since most T-shirts don’t come in those patterns, I didn’t think we needed to worry.

  She turned to me. “Red and deep orange aren’t good colors for the camera, either, and it’s probably best to avoid black or really dark blue, since you’re relatively pale.”

  “Sure.” I nodded obediently, although privately I thought that the list of admonitions didn’t leave me with a whole lot of options. Derek and I both wear a lot of white T-shirts to work, since they’re cheap and easy to replace when they get ruined. And they get ruined a lot. I’d have to pull out some of my nicer stuff this week. Which might not be a bad idea anyway, since I definitely wanted to look my best on TV.

  “Nothing shapeless,” Nina continued. “You know how they say the camera adds ten pounds? It’s true. In life, you see not only the person but also what’s around them, so they tend to appear smaller. On camera, all you see is the talent, and that means you take up more space, which makes you look bigger. So be sure to wear clothes that make you appear taller and leaner, not wider. Shapeless clothing will make you look lumpy on camera.”

  Derek and I both nodded solemnly, Derek not without an amused twinkle in his eyes. Neither of us are overweight, but who wants to look lumpy on every TV screen in America?

  “Why don’t you show me around?” She looked past us to the house. “Tell me what you’re planning to do, so we can get some kind of shooting schedule together.”

  “Of course.” He glanced at me. “You wanna do the honors, Avery?”

  “You go ahead,” I said. He was the contractor; I was just the lowly designer.

  We did a walk-through while Derek pointed out the architectural features and explained what we planned to accomplish over the next five days.

  “We’ll refinish the floors, but that won’t be until the end of the week. One of the last things we do. It doesn’t make any sense to do it first and then walk on the new polyurethane for a week. Plus, polying floors takes time. A coat a day for three days, and letting it cure. I’m sure you don’t want to wait around for that.”

  Nina shook her head. “I’m afraid we don’t have that much time. After this, we’re going to New Hampshire for a week. We’ll wait for the first coat of poly to dry and do our final shots of the finished product, but then we’ll have to head out.”

  Derek nodded. “We’re prepared to finish up what needs doing next week. In the living room, we’re not planning to do much except paint the walls and refinish the floors. In the dining room, we’ll replace the chandelier and paint and, again, do the floors. Avery will whip up some cushions for the window seat.”

  I nodded.

  “What’s your background, Avery?” Nina wanted to know while Fae took a tighter grip on her pen.

  “I’m a textile designer,” I said. “Parsons School of Design. I worked in New York for a while, first as a grunt in the garment district and then as a designer for Philippe Aubert Designs. Reproduction furniture. And then I inherited my aunt’s house and moved to Maine. Now I work with Derek.”

  Fae’s pen made scratching noises on the clipboard as she hurried to make note of all this.

  “And you?” Nina turned to Derek.

  “I’m a doctor,” Derek said calmly. “Medical school, residency, a year of general practice. My father’s the local GP. I decided I’d rather work on houses than people.”

  “Interesting.” Nina glanced from him to me and back. “And how long have you two been together?”

  “We met at the beginning of last summer,” Derek said. “When Avery came up to Waterfield to work on her aunt Inga’s house.”

  “Derek was the handyman I hired to help me.” I smiled. “After we finished renovating my house, we decided to go into business together. So I settled down here permanently.”

  “Lovely.” Nina smiled back. “We’ll mention some of this in the introductions. Establish a rapport with the audience. They’ll want to feel like they know you.”

  Of course.

  “I’ve been watching your show,” I said as we moved into the kitchen. “There used to be a host who did the introductions and explained the projects, didn’t there?” He hadn’t been among the crew we’d been introduced to, so unless he was fast asleep back at the B&B, he wasn’t here.

  Nina nodded as a shadow crossed her face. “Stuart. He’s not with us this time.”

  “That’s too bad. I liked him.”

  He’d reminded me a little of Derek. Tall, sandy-haired, easygoing. Handsome in a casual sort of way.

  “We did, too,” Nina said. “He had an accident a few weeks ago. On one of the work sites. Stepped on a live wire and got electrocuted.” She shook her head, her face pale.

  “Oh, no.” Derek and I exchanged a look. “That’s horrible.”

  Nina nodded. “Thankfully it wasn’t fatal. He’s still in the hospital, and probably will be for a while, but he’ll survive. He’ll need physical therapy for one side of his body, as well as some speech therapy. We’re hoping that, over time, he’ll recover fully, but I don’t think he’ll ever be able to come back to work with us.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  Nina nodded, acknowledging the sympathy. “We haven’t had a chance to replace him yet. For this episode, Adam will take over.”

  Adam?

  “I thought you said Adam was the runner.” I’d thought the runner was the junior member of a camera crew. The one who assists everyone else and does most of the grunt work.

  “He is,” Nina said. “But he’s also had drama training, and he looks good on camera. He’ll pull it off.”

  Of course. How hard can it be, right?

  “Here’s the kitchen,” Derek said. “We’re keeping the cabinets, since they’re in good shape, but we’ll paint them and add new hardware, as well as a new sink and faucet set, and a new kitchen counter. It’s already been ordered. We’ll pick it up in a couple of days.”

  Nina nodded while Fae made a note
on her clipboard. “What about the floor?”

  We all looked down at it: pristine but uninspiring off-white sheet vinyl.

  “If we had more time,” Derek said, “I’d tile, or at least lay another form of flooring over it. But it’s in good shape, just a few years old, and time is of the essence, so we can just keep it and throw a couple of runners on top. It’ll coordinate well with the overall look once we get the rest of it done.”

  “We ordered the countertop to match,” I added.

  The plain vanilla floor continued into the tiny utility room, where Derek explained that we’d hang some shelves and cabinets to make things look tidier. From there, we headed to the two bedrooms, which would both get new light fixtures, fresh paint, and refinished floors. We ended up in the only bathroom.

  Nina looked around. “This is a big job.”

  She wasn’t kidding. The bathroom was 1930s vintage and looked every bit its age. The tub was scratched and worn and needed reglazing, while the sink cabinet was a hideous natural oak, added sometime in the 1970s, with a molded plastic top. The floor was an interesting pattern of old-fashioned octagonal tiles, but many of them were broken and the grout was crumbling. We had decided we had to replace the floor. The white subway tile around the walls was in better condition; we planned to fill in with new tiles where the old ones were cracked, instead of tearing out and starting over. Derek had already removed the existing plumbing, preparatory to replacing the ugly vanity with a pedestal sink. That’d be in keeping with the period, plus, there was a linen closet built in beside the tub already, so the extra storage wasn’t necessary. Add a new low-flush toilet, paint the walls, and we’d be good to go.

  “We’ll spend most of our money and efforts here,” Derek said, “and on the front. First impression is the most important thing in flipping, and research shows that women buy houses based on bathrooms and kitchens, so those are where we’ll focus on the inside.”

  Fae’s pen scratched across the paper as Nina asked, “What do you plan to do outside?”

  “Let me show you.” He headed for the door to the outside with the three of us trailing behind. “The roof is in good shape, but it could use a scrubbing, so we’ll power wash that, along with the siding. Then we’ll do some landscaping to the front. Dig up an old porch swing from somewhere and paint it a cheerful color. There are a couple of good salvage stores around here that’ll probably have an old swing we can buy. Avery will make some cushions to go on it. She’s also got some pendants she’s planning to make to hang from the porch ceiling.”

  “Twine pendants,” I shot in. “They look a little bit like rice lamps.”

  “We’ll paint the door and sidelights, maybe hang some shutters. Add a lot of window boxes and planters, and that should be it.”

  Nina smiled. “Sounds great. Did you get all that, Fae?”

  Fae nodded.

  “Then let’s put together a game plan.” Nina rubbed her hands together as Adam wandered back up onto the porch, gazing around.

  “What’s going on?”

  Nina didn’t bother answering, just continued to address Derek and me. “Today, we’ll want to shoot some introductory film. Get a few seconds of the harbor, of downtown, of some of the renovated and historic homes in town. To set the scene.”

  “Here we are,” Adam said, in what was clearly intended to be a stuffy announcer’s voice, “in picturesque Water-ford, Maine, forty-five minutes northeast of Portland—”

  “Waterfield,” Fae muttered.

  Nina raised her voice, perhaps to head off the argument before the children could start squabbling in earnest. “We’ll do that a little later. First we’ll film the house as-is and get the two of you on camera. After that you can get started on the work. Where do you want to begin?”

  “I’ll start with the bathroom,” Derek said. We’d already discussed this and decided on the proper order of things. Day by day, hour by hour. “I’ll reglaze the tub, then remove and replace the broken wall tiles, tear out the sink cabinet and toilet, and then start ripping up the tile floor. Avery’s gonna start with the kitchen cabinets.”

  I nodded.

  “Marvelous,” Nina said. “Avery, your shirt will work fine for today. Derek, do you have another T-shirt you can wear? One that isn’t white?”

  Derek usually keeps a change of clothes in the truck. It tends to be a pair of clean jeans and a button-down shirt, so he can look fairly respectable if he has to meet a potential client directly after work, or in case we’re going out to a restaurant or over to his parents’ house for dinner. He shook his head.

  “Maybe you can go without a shirt,” Adam said, with a grin.

  Nina thought for a second. “It’s warm enough.”

  It was. July in Maine isn’t as cold as one might think; the temperatures were the same as they’d been last summer, in the upper seventies. And showing footage of a bare-chested Derek might boost ratings. I know it would keep me glued to the TV screen.

  Fae giggled and ducked her head, her cheeks pink.

  “I’ll take the truck and go get a different shirt,” Derek said, “while your crew sets up. This is a small town. It won’t take but a few minutes.”

  “I’ve got a couple of your shirts at the house,” I suggested. “That’s even closer than your place.”

  He nodded. “I’ll be back in a few.” He headed for the door.

  “We’ll get things ready for when he comes back,” Nina said. “Adam, familiarize yourself with the house, please. Avery can show you around. Fae, with me.” She didn’t wait to see whether she was obeyed or not, just headed down the steps with Fae in pursuit. Adam turned to me and grinned.

  3

  Derek came back within fifteen minutes, dressed in a blue T-shirt and the same snug, faded jeans as earlier. By then, the camera crew was ready to begin shooting and I was ready to shoot Adam. He was one of those guys who was totally in love with himself and absolutely convinced of his own charm, which he turned up to scorching levels whenever he had to deal with anyone of the opposite sex. I had been right—he really was just like Philippe: slickly charming, insincere, and a great, big jerk.

  When Derek walked back through the door, I excused myself from Adam and made a beeline for him. “Thank God you’re back.”

  He put an arm around me. “Adam giving you a hard time?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle. But he doesn’t talk about anything but himself.”

  “Most people like to talk about themselves.”

  “Most of us realize that we have to play fair and let other people talk, too. Or we become insufferable bores. Like Adam. He told me every detail of his career, from playing Baby Jesus in the local Christmas pageant as a newborn until this point. I know way more about Adam than I ever wanted to. More than anyone should.” I changed the subject. “Everything go OK?”

  “All I did was go to your house to get a clean T-shirt,” Derek said. “What could go wrong?”

  I shrugged apologetically. “Cat attack?”

  I have three. Jemmy and Inky, two full-grown Maine coon cats, were part of my inheritance from Aunt Inga. Jemmy is striped, with that distinctive, plumy, raccoonlike tail, while Inky is smoky black with bright green eyes. They’re beautiful creatures, and they must have loved my great-aunt, but they mostly just tolerate me, and I’ve stopped trying to get them to be more affectionate. They prefer curling up with each other to curling up with me, and if that’s the way they feel, there’s not a lot I can do to change their minds, at least not after bribery has failed. I feed them and talk to them and take them to the vet for regular checkups, but beyond that, we’ve just agreed to coexist peacefully, with no special privileges on either side.

  Mischa is a different story. Derek and I found him on Rowanberry Island in April, when we started renovating the Colonial house. He had taken up residence under our front porch. Over the course of the next few weeks, I coaxed him out with tuna and milk and tried to make friends with him, and then I became attached to the little
guy. When we finished the renovations, he came back to the mainland with me and moved into Aunt Inga’s house. He’s much friendlier than Jemmy and Inky. Mischa loves being held and stroked, he sleeps in bed with me (unless Derek’s there; then he gets jealous and we have to put him outside in the hall), and he screams pitifully whenever I leave him in the morning. It’s been a real adjustment for Jemmy and Inky, who have been none too happy about sharing their house and their food bowls with a young upstart. However, things are starting to iron themselves out. Mischa isn’t romantically interested in Inky, so Jemmy doesn’t need to posture or assert his prior claim, and since Jemmy couldn’t care less about me, Mischa doesn’t feel that his position as feline consort to the queen is threatened. Except by Derek. Which was why I felt the need to ask how the trip to my house had gone.

  “Well,” Derek said. “Yeah. There was that.”

  I winced and took a step back to look him up and down for damage. “He attacked you? Again?”

  “He attacked my leg. Tried to climb up to my throat to claw it out. Growling the whole time.” He grinned. “Good thing he’s little. If he was the size of Jemmy, I’d worry.”

  At close to twenty pounds, Jemmy is big even for a Maine coon. Inky is smaller, around fifteen, but they’re both large cats. The last time I’d taken Mischa to the vet, he’d weighed in at seven pounds, but Dr. Piedmont had warned me he wasn’t finished growing yet, and to expect him to gain another few pounds. But he’s part Russian blue and sleek, with shorter fur than the bushy coons, and he’s still on the lean and hungry side.

  “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  Derek didn’t look like he was walking wounded. There were no fresh scratches on his hands or forearms, and no bloodstains on his jeans.

  “I could feel his claws going into my leg when he tried to climb up, but once I sent him flying, it was no problem.”

  I rolled my eyes. “As if I’d believe you’d ever hurt a living creature, Mr. Hippocratic Oath.”