Page 4 of Willowbrooke
“No, but interior design is my passion, and I know this is a big project, so I think I can give you a fresh perspective, and I would be completely dedicated to this job.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and blinked back the tears I could feel welling in my eyes.
I didn’t believe a word I was saying, and Leo knew it.
“I would really love to help you bring this house back to life.” I managed to make eye contact with him for a moment, as I’d meant those last few words.
Leo closed the portfolio. Seeing it on the counter under his large hand made it look even thinner than I remembered. “I have a lot to consider,” he replied.
“I see.” I understood what he was getting at. I figured I’d save him the time of telling me that he’d let me know, and save myself the sting of rejection that would follow. “Thank you for your time.” I stood from the barstool and put myhand out to shake his once more.
He reluctantly returned the gesture, brow furrowed. “Would you like to leave a business card?”
I paused, embarrassed. “I don’t have one.” I blinked back more tears; I couldn’t cry in front of him or I would be even more mortified than I already was. “All my contact information is in my portfolio.” I winced at the shakiness in my voice. “Thank you,” I mumbled once again, before turning on my heel and walking back through the front door. I managed to make it to my car before crumbling completely.
I felt so foolish for putting so much hope on this project and allowing myself to dream about what it would be like to start this career I’d been trying desperately to pursue for years. I wanted to know what it would feel like to finally prove to my parents that this field was good enough…thatIwas good enough…
Watching Leo while I’d described what I could see for the house, I could have sworn I had seen a spark there—that he’d seen what I had, that my vision could be his too, but then I’d ruined it because I hadn’t been able to back it up with experience.
I’d been applying to a few firms, including the one where Mina worked, but nobody wanted to hire someone my age with my lack of experience. Even though I said I was willing to take a pay cut, to start at the bottom, they wanted fresh faces and designers right out of school for their entry level positions—easily moldable and trainable.
Without experience, I couldn’t hope to work for a design firm, and without experience at a design firm, I couldn’t hope to get freelance work.
I was stuck.
My dream was dead.
I was hopeless.
Knowing she would be expecting my call, I decided to rip the Band-Aid off and talk to Mina right away. At least she’d give me a sorely-needed pep talk.
And she sure did.
“You’re too hard on yourself.” Mina sighed after I finished recounting my sorry tale. “And you shouldn’t have left before he asked you to—you cut him off, what if he had more questions—you made assumptions and ran away,” she accused me, and rightfully so.
“It’s better this way,” I tried to reframe my disappointment. “The commute is terrible from the city, the house is gorgeous, but creepy as fuck—definitely haunted.” That earned a giggle from Mina. “And Leo—he’s impossible to read—no wonder he can’t find a good fit. Are you sure they didn’t turn him down? He doesn’t even know what he wants.”
Mina’s melodious laughter filled the phone receiver. “Seriously!? Who wants to do a total renovation without having a clue about what they want to change? And what was up with all the curtains being drawn? Maybe he’s a vampire,” she joked.
I joined her giggling, but paused when my phone beganto vibrate in my hand. I pulled it away from my ear.
“Mina!” I stopped her. “He’s calling me!? What should I do? He’s probably calling to tell me I didn’t get it—doesn’t want to draw it out, right?” My heart hammered.
Mina continued to laugh. “Answer it, silly. Call me back when you’re done.”
I switched over to the other line and tried my best to sound professional. “Penny Abbot.”
“You left before we discussed salary and time frames.” Leo’s brooding tone slipped through the phone.
“I’m sorry—I didn’t realize—I thought we were done,” I stuttered.
Leo didn’t reply, so I set to answering his question about the project length.
“I would expect the interiors to take a minimum of four to six months, but we’d have to get an inspection done to see if there is any unseen damage that needs to be fixed during the process, in order to keep the home well maintained.”
“You didn’t have your rates listed in your portfolio. I assume they are standard market value.”
“Yes.” I nodded dumbly. I had figured out the lowest hourly rate I could survive on, but had planned to let Leo start the salary negotiation because the project was too important to me.
“I assume you’d require an additional monthly retainer to ensure my house is the only project you’re working on?” he inquired.
