A Nice Quiet Life Chapter 10

Chapter 10 After that meal out together, things were different between us. After I’d seen myself in the mirror, with colour on my face and in my clothes, I could feel the change in myself as well. I hadn’t quite got round to replacing my entire wardrobe yet – that’s expensive! – but I was using my make-up more often, taking pleasure in it. And meeting up with old Paint Sample more often too!
Tonight’s meet-up was just for a coffee in the centre of town after he’d finished playing, and I’d finished a decent stretch of writing on my new chapter. I decided to walk – I’d spent too long sitting down inside – and took the path that led past Miss Gatti’s house. It was empty, of course, but I decided to go and look in through the window and see if it looked like the fumigators had finished their work. I mean, it’s so hard to work out what she’s on about sometimes, as she’s not the most coherent of narrators, but what I’d picked up from our conversations was that the house had been declared infested, and she’d been moved out to our neighbourhood.
Presumably while the house was de-infested! And I guess it’d be a while before the lingering chemicals had gone away completely and it would be safe for her to move back in. Especially as she’s a bit elderly now. But by the end of the summer, perhaps – and Blue and I could tidy up the garden for her before she moved back in, help her with the move and so on.
Only what I saw through the window surprised and puzzled me. Blue and I needed to talk about this. I went in search of him. And maybe we needed to talk about this somewhere we wouldn’t be overheard either. I re-assessed my plans and decided not to pour everything out into his shell-like ear instantly. I’d offer to cook for him instead. Yes, I’d put a candle on the table. It just felt right, somehow…
“Let me tell you what I saw up at Miss Gatti’s house yesterday, when I walked past it. And you tell me what she’s told you about why she’s here.” “It’s being re-decorated. I know she hasn’t organised that – she’d have said so. But I thought she said she owned that house. Someone can’t just take it away from her with no compensation. They could charge her for the health-hazard clean-up probably, but that’s not going to cost the value of that house and land. No way.” “You’re right. And you know what – like, remember the builders who put up my container?”
I did remember them. I remembered being very cross with them! “Well, they’re like, the ones everyone uses – they’re good, they’re reasonable for cost, they’re local, they’re cool. And they’re not too busy at the moment to take on a big job like that house. But, like, it seems there’s been new builders brought in, from somewhere else. And I have to ask, like why, man?”
He paused and thought for a moment.
“I think we have to find out. We’ll send you, in like, disguise, to find out.” I literally leapt out of my seat in shock.
“Me? In disguise? What do you mean? And aren’t I nondescript enough already anyway?” He stood up as well and came close to me. I didn’t feel like he invaded my space any more when he did that. Quite the opposite. I actually wanted him to come closer yet. “Wait till you see the disguise I have in mind. Though it’ll be a shame to change your looks.” He paused, almost looking nervous. That was a new one for him!
“Rachel Grey, you are beautiful. Has no-one ever told you that?” You see, the thing with Old Paint Sample is, I’ve never known him say anything – ever – that he didn’t really mean. He just doesn’t do polite insincerities (he said that was why he didn’t go into the family business, whatever that was).
If he said this, he really meant it. He thought I was beautiful! It was as though something deep within my heart that had been frozen for ages just melted in a warm rush of happiness. No. Deeper than happiness. Joy. “Hey, Lady, I like, do so love you, you know. Do you think you could, like, put up with me in your life?”
I looked back at him, gazed into those blue eyes, thought of all the ways he’d maddened me, frustrated me, teased me, entertained me, cared about me. Of the way he had brought colour and unpredictability into my too safe and ordered world.
“I think I need you in my life,” I said. The next morning, after a morning’s quite productive writing (always a good feeling), I went up to Ocean’s apartment to see what was his next step in the grand plan to Find Out What Was Going On, and also Deal With Those Cats! He’d gone out early, poking his head round my door and saying he was off to borrow some useful things.
“Here,” he said, pointing at the box on the floor. “I went to Luca’s – you know, he does props and costumes for the drama group, and like, raided his stash. So, like, how good are you at acting? Can you be someone else?”
But what else was writing, if not that?
“We’re, like, going to disguise you by making you kind of real obvious.”
Okay, now I was intrigued. By the time he’d finished with me – clothes, wig, make-up – I didn’t recognise me, never mind anyone else! I looked at myself in the mirror in his (amazing!) bathroom, and came out confident that I could fool anyone. “You’re, like, a tourist. An American one – everyone knows that, man, they always chat, ask questions, are like, real outgoing. But, hey, can you do the accent?”
I’d worked for a year with a girl from the southern states who’d been over on an exchange.
“Say, I guess y’all got the cutest lil town here…” Not perfect, but close enough to Ella-Mae’s honey-soft drawl.
He grinned at me. “So cool, man!” Now to see what I could find out. I needed to be someone different – rich, confident, beautiful, outgoing, a little bit pushy but not objectionably so. And glamorous! Nothing like my normal self in fact.
I strolled up to the front of the house and projected warmth and admiration for all I was worth. “My, ain’t you just got the cutest house here. You all doing a mighty fine job of fixing her up.”
The voice – and mannerisms that I’d borrowed from Ella-Mae worked a treat. I’d watched them work for her often enough (and wished that I’d been like her) though she’d not been putting them on. It was just who she was. Presently he was talking quite freely – and boastfully – about how awful the place had been before he and his team were moved in to improve it. “I sure would crave a place like this. Me and my husband – he’s down the path aways, but I said honey I just have to get a closer look at that cute house – were hoping to buy ourselves a little summer place here…”
“I would be happy to show you inside…” His English had a strong accent, southern, I thought. Not the local accent. “Tools down men – there is a lady coming to see what we are doing.”
“I guess you are just transforming this old place. And into something mighty fine. I don’t suppose you’re aching to sell it afterwards? It could be just what me and my husband are looking for. And he doesn’t mind paying a fair price for work well done.”
“Alas, signora,” said the one who’d been doing the wallpapering. “We are only the workmen, not the owners.” “I just love your accent.” Time to spread a little more charm around. “And I am so impressed by the way y’all speak other languages too. Guess I’m just a typical American girl. Do you think you could put in a good word with the owner for me? Where would we find him?”
My ruse worked! The first guy broke into rapid Italian. But what got me my job in the first place wasn’t just my maths. It was my language skills as well. I’m fluent in three European languages – four if you count English. I always did like words.
“Watch what you say. Tell her the truth of what is going to happen – that this is going to be a boutique hotel, to go with a new golf course that’s being planned also. The place isn’t for sale. But stupid and rich Americans like her are just the kind of guests the boss wants, so paint a good picture. Maybe she’ll book for next year – I bet her husband plays golf: rich Americans do. We can’t have her trying to find the real owner.” I kept a blank look on my face until I’d heard it all in English.
“Well, that is just so fascinating! Though I’m mighty sorry the place is not for sale. But my husband just loves golf – and so do some of his European business associates. This would be a fine place to meet and do some deals together.” I could almost see the money signs clicking up behind his eyes.
“I must go meet my husband now – I’ve been way longer than I said I’d be. But I can’t thank you all enough.” And I gave him another dazzling smile. But inside I was so confused. What was really going on here? “Right,” old Paint Sample said, as we all three of us sat down for tea and cakes and a general pooling of information. “Let’s see if we can find out just what’s going on.”