Tribute

attention. As July sweated its way toward August, she concentrated on the house. She had plenty to do.
    “Why do you want a sink over here,” Buddy demanded, “when you’re putting a sink over there?”
    “It’s a prep sink, Buddy, and I don’t honestly know why I want one.
    I just do. Sink here.” She laid a fingertip on the revised, and absolutely final, drawing of her kitchen. “Dishwasher here. Refrigerator. And over here, the prep sink in the work island.”
    “It’s your business.” He said it in the way, as he often did, that told her she didn’t know squat. “But I’m just saying, if you’re putting this here island in, you’re cutting into your counter space by putting a sink into it.”
    “It’ll have a cutting-board top. On when I want to chop something, off when I want to wash something.”
    “What?”
    “Jesus, Buddy. Um, vegetables.”
    He gave her his bulldog frown. “Then what’re you going to wash in the other sink?”
    “The blood off my hands after I stab you to death with my screwdriver. ”
    His lips twitched. “You got some weird-ass ideas.”
    “Yeah? Wait for this one. I want a pot-filler faucet.”
    “You’re going to have two damn sinks, and you want one of them gadgets that swings out on an arm from the wall over the stove to fill pans with water?”
    “Yes, I do. Maybe I want to fill really big pots with water for pasta, or for washing my damn feet. Or for boiling the heads of cranky plumbers who argue with me. Maybe I’ve developed a faucet fetish. But I want it.”
    She walked over, tapped her fist on the wall where she’d drawn a circle with an X in it with a carpenter’s pencil. “And I want it right here.”
    He cast his eyes to the ceiling, as if asking God what possessed her. “Gonna have to run pipes, so we’re gonna have to cut that plaster to run ’em down, tie ’em in.”
    “I know that.”
    “It’s your house.”
    “Yeah. It is.”
    “I heard you bought another one, that old place out on Bing.”
    “It looks that way.” The little flutter in the belly signaled excitement and nerves. “We don’t settle until October, but it looks that way.”
    “I guess you’ll be wanting your fancy doodads in that one, too.”
    “You’ll be pleased to know I plan to go more basic there.” She had to fold her lips when she caught the disappointment on his face.
    “You say that now. Well, I can start the rough-in on Thursday.”
    “That’d be great.”
    She left him to his scowling and calculations.
    The kitchen cabinets should be done in a couple weeks, she estimated, and could be stored, if necessary, while the plumbing, the wiring were roughed, inspected, finished, inspected. The plaster repaired, the painting done, the floors laid. If her countertops came in on schedule, she might have a finished kitchen, excepting the refitted appliances, by Labor Day.
    Maybe she’d have a party after all. And even thinking about planning a party probably jinxed the entire thing.
    “Knock, knock!” Cathy Morrow poked her head in the front door. “Brian said you wouldn’t mind if I came right in.”
    “I don’t. How are you?”
    “Just fine, except for dying of curiosity. Brian’s been telling us how wonderful everything looks, so Tom and I just had to come by and see for ourselves. Tom’s out there in the back where you’re having the stone wall built up. For shrubs, Brian said.”
    “It’ll add height and depth to the yard and cut back on the mowing.”
    “I don’t think Brian’s ever done so much work for a private client—noncommercial, I mean. He’s just . . . Oh, Cilla! This is just beautiful.”
    With a flush of pride, Cilla watched Cathy walk around the living room. “It’s finished except for refinishing the floor, and we’ll do all of them at the same time. And for furniture, and accessories, art, window treatments and a few minor details such as . . .”
    “It’s so open and warm. I love the light. Are those shamrocks on the collar, or whatever you call it?”
    “Medallion, and yes. Dobby did an amazing job. And the fixture’s true to the architecture of the house. I don’t know what was there originally. I couldn’t find any pictures showing it, and my father couldn’t remember. But I think the straightforward Arts and Crafts lines and the design, with the diamond shapes of amber and deep blue, work.”
    “It’s just lovely. But, oh my God, the fireplace.”
    “Focal point.” Walking over, Cilla stroked her hand