My Own Mr. Darcy (19 page)

“Could I see the plates?”
I asked.

“Of course.” Mrs. Keller
gently lifted a stack of plates from the hutch and brought them to the table.

“My mom couldn’t afford a
set of new china when she got married, so she collected different patterns one
plate at a time until she had enough plates to serve eight. She only bought
plates she loved so it took her a few years. Dave doesn’t like to use them when
we have guests—he likes everything to match—but I love them.”

“What a sweet story,” I
said. Mrs. Keller carefully laid out the vintage china.

“These are beautiful,” I
said, “and so much more interesting than a matching set.”

“Mom got this one on her
only trip out of the United States.” She lifted an ivory plate with a teal
border and gold edging. In the center of the plate was a hand-painted bird on a
branch of cherry blossoms. “She found it in a little antique store in England.
This one is my favorite.” She held up a white plate bordered with rich, royal
blue flowers and latticework. The flowers had a dreamy, watercolor quality. “It’s
called Flow Blue. I always picked this plate for Christmas dinner when I was a
child,” she said.

“These are lovely,” I
said, an idea beginning to form. “I’ve got to take some measurements. Do you
mind if I snap some pictures?”

“Of course not. I’ll leave
you to this. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Keller. And
thank you for this opportunity. I really appreciate it.”

“Chad said he thought
you’d have some good ideas, so I figured we might as well ask a friend of
Chad’s before we called in a stranger.” She patted my arm and walked away.

Something about what she’d
said or her motherly pat on my arm made my eyes sting. I wanted to do something
she’d love. I wanted to impress her. But most of all, I wanted Chad to be glad
he’d arranged this. I wanted him to be proud of me. I took a deep breath and
got to work.

Forty-five minutes later,
I stepped into the Keller’s gorgeous kitchen where Mrs. Keller was peeling
potatoes. “I’m going to go. I’ll call you in a week or so and we can go over my
proposal,” I said.

“Did you get everything
you needed?” Mrs. Keller asked.

“I think so.”

“Just call if you need any
more information or if you want to come back and look at the rooms again,” she
said. She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and walked me to the door. “It was
wonderful to meet you.”

“You too. And thank you
again. I’ll be in touch.”

Mrs. Keller waited at the
door and waved as I left.

“Did you bring homework?”
Matt asked at lunch.

“Sort of. I met with Mrs.
Keller last night. I’m working on my proposal.”

“Mrs. Keller is your
friend’s mom?” Matt asked.

“Yes. For the redecorating
job.”

Matt took a bite of his
soup before he spoke. “You know I have a whole section on interior decorating.
If you want to look through any of those books, you can.

“Thanks, Matt. That would
be great. I have some ideas but it would be nice to look through some books.”

“Is it a big job?”

“Two rooms and she wants
them completely redone. It would be an exciting job. I hope they like what I
come up with. It would be so much fun to know someone is actually living in a
room I designed.”

After I ate, I searched
through a few design books while Matt worked on invoices in his office.

The next week was
exhausting and exhilarating. Each night after work and all day on Saturday, I
worked on my proposal. I drew, colored, and collected paint chips and fabric
swatches. I went to furniture stores with my measuring tape and measured and
photographed couches, chairs and tables. I chose hardwood, light fixtures, fireplace
tile and rugs. I added prices and labor quotes. When I was finished I had a
proposal I loved and a bid I hoped would seem reasonable.

“Please let this go well.
Please, please let this go well.” I dabbed on some lip gloss, wiped my
perspiring hands on my skirt and opened the car door. I gathered my
college-worn portfolio case and my sample boards from the back seat. A light
dusting of snow covered the driveway and I was glad I’d worn my rubber-soled
boots.

“Come in, Lizzie,” Mrs.
Keller said to me before she called to her husband. “Dave, Lizzie’s here.” The
house felt warm after the cold air outside. “Let’s go into the dining room and
you can show us what you’ve come up with. Do you need any help with that?” She
pointed at my full hands.

“I’ve got it. Thank you.”

“I can’t wait to see what
you’ve come up with. I was so excited when you called yesterday. Dave? Did you
hear me?”

“I’m right here, Lola.”
Mr. Keller walked into the dining room smiling. He was a tall man, big in the
way an athlete is big after many years away from his sport. His dark hair was
graying at the temples. “You’d think after fifteen years of these horrible
roses, she could wait five more minutes without it killing her,” he said. “I’m
Dave.” Mr. Keller reached out and shook my hand. I hoped mine wasn’t too damp.

“You’d think you’d be just
as excited as I am to get rid of all these pink flowers,” Mrs. Keller said.

“Oh believe me. I am.
Please, Lizzie. Tell me you’ve come up with a plan to rescue me from the
roses.”

I loved the easy way they
talked to each other. It settled my nerves. “I hope I’ve come up with something
you’ll both love. Shall I jump right in?”

Mr. and Mrs. Keller sat
across the dining room table from me. I tried to keep my hands steady as I
pulled a foldout easel from my portfolio bag and put it on the table, ready for
the sample board.
Just do it like you did it for Mr. Castinello on your
final project. You can do this
. I took a deep breath.

“It
was easy to find lots of ideas that would be very different than what you
have,” I said and they both chuckled. “But I wanted to find just the right
balance of masculine and feminine. And even though you want it much less busy,
I didn’t want to go so far to the other end that it felt sterile and
impersonal. Please stop me at any time and ask questions or let me know if
there are any things you’d like changed,” I said. They nodded.

“It’s nice to have some sort
of inspiration to go by and when you showed me your antique plates and I saw
how much they mean to you, I knew I wanted to work them into the design.”

“Ah yes,” Mrs. Keller said
and leaned in closer. Mr. Keller wasn’t as easily impressed. He probably
pictured the explosion of pink flowers being replaced with an eruption of blue
flowers.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Keller,”
I said. “I’m not sacrificing you to the floral gods.”

Mr. Keller laughed.

I placed the sample board
on the easel. “These rooms have wonderful natural light. All the windows make
it the perfect candidate for dark wood, so I went with these wide plank,
hand-hewn boards. We’d carry it all the way from the entryway to the dining
room. It’s rich and warm and very masculine.”

“I like that,” Mr. Keller
said.

“For a color palette, I went
with something earthy and relaxing. I’ve got this gorgeous tan chenille for two
sofas. There are lots of options, but I really like these for the space. I sat
in them and they’re super comfortable and with this upholstery, they’ll be
subtle. To have some contrast with the browns and tans, I chose this dusty
teal.” I held out a picture of one of the plates. “I took the colors—teal and a
little pop of orange—from this plate.” Mrs. Keller nodded. “I thought we could
make the window treatments from this dupioni silk. It’s just the right shade of
teal but when it catches the light, it’s shot with orange.” I held out a sample
of the silk. “See how you can’t even see the orange unless you’re at the right
angle.”

“I’ve never seen fabric
like that,” Mrs. Keller said, holding the fabric at different angles in the
light. “This is gorgeous. Who’d have ever thought of teal and orange?” My hands
had stopped shaking and I was beginning to feel more relaxed.

“I want to pull out the
orange in some of our other fabrics, too,” I said.

Mrs. Keller handed the
fabric swatch to Mr. Keller who took a turn holding it up to the light.

“I love these chairs,” I
said. “Comfortable but simple. And this fabric is perfect, I think. It’s a
Scalamandre stripe. The tan works well with the chenille couch and it has this
tiny orange pinstripe.”

I pulled a few large
photographs out of my portfolio. One by one, I showed them to the Kellers and
then laid them on the table in front of them. “Here are the rugs I had in mind.
And I think these tables and lamps would fit nicely into the room.”

They nodded after each
photograph. “For the fireplace, I’d like to resurface the surround with this
fantastic glass tile.” I handed them a section of the long, narrow tile. “The
color is great with the window treatments and I like the liquid, almost glowing
quality. I think it’s the perfect way to finish off the room. Any questions or
should we move on to the dining room?”

“Looks good so far,” Mr.
Keller said with a smile.

“The paint in the living
room will be biscotti—this nice, natural color here. I wanted a little contrast
for the dining room, without going too dark, so I went with this soft blue.
It’s called ocean and I love how it works with the other colors.”

“Nice,” Mrs. Keller said.

“I didn’t want to go dark table
and chairs right next to dark floor, so I think this sisal rug under the table
is a good option. It breaks up the dark wood. And this buffet is such a good
size. You really won’t lose any storage when we get rid of the hutch. Mrs.
Keller, for art in here, I’d like to use the plates. I thought we could hang
them on the wall above the buffet.”

“I love that. We don’t use
them any more anyway,” she said.

“That’s a wonderful idea,”
Mr. Keller said.

“They’re so lovely and
meaningful, I just thought it would be nice for people to be able to see them.”

Mrs. Keller wiped away a
tear and Mr. Keller put his arm around her. “You just scored some serious
points,” he said.

I showed the Kellers the
last few design elements. “Do you have any questions?” I asked.

“When can you start?” Mr.
Keller said. I took a deep breath and tried not to show too much excitement.

“I love it. I absolutely
love it,” Mrs. Keller said. “I love everything about it. Let’s do it.”

My portfolio and sample
board were the only things that kept me from floating away as I walked to the
car. They liked my design. They had no problem with the cost and they were understanding
about my work schedule at the bank. It couldn’t have gone any better.

The savory aroma of Pok
Pok’s chicken Khao Soi filled my car. I’d driven around this neighborhood for
at least ten minutes trying to find a familiar landmark. Why hadn’t I paid more
attention either time I’d been to Chad’s house? Maybe I wouldn’t find it and
I’d have to take the food home and eat it myself. It smelled so good, it was
tempting.

And then I saw Cal’s Video
Connection, the little store where we’d rented
Pride and Prejudice
.
Okay, now I was on the right track. I turned down a familiar looking street and
then turned once more and there it was.