Out of Eden. Beth Ciotta

she’d printed from the Internet, plus pages she’d ripped from a shoe supply catalog. “I ordered some of this stuff online last night.”

      Faye groaned. “In a drunken stupor? That’s not good.”

      Kylie ignored her. “These shoe displays, these mirrors. And check out these prints I found on Art.com.”

      “Interesting mix of abstract and art deco,” he said. “Nice.”

      “Sure. If McGraw’s was in a cosmopolitan hotspot,” said Faye. “But it’s in Eden.”

      “Please don’t mention cosmopolitans,” Kylie said, massaging the dull pulse at her temples. “Anyway,” she pressed on, “I was thinking about painting the walls this color with these accents. Maybe something similar for the exterior? And wall-to-wall carpet. I like this color. Or maybe this.”

      Travis nodded. “Bold.”

      Faye looked around his shoulder. “Disastrous.”

      “I get what you’re going for,” he said.

      “Yeah,” Faye said. “Spenser’s boot up her butt.”

      Kylie smirked. “Ha.”

      “Do I look like I’m kidding?” Faye asked. “Spenser will have a cow. And what about your mom and grandma? What about tradition?”

      “The only tradition I care about is Kabuki Theater and zongzi.”

      “I’ll bite,” said Faye. “What’s zongzi?”

      “A glutinous rice dumpling wrapped in bamboo leaves.”

      “I take it back. I won’t bite. Sounds disgusting.”

      “It’s the food of honor at the Dragon Boat Festival.”

      “Still disgusting.”

      “You don’t know that. Maybe it’s orgasmic. Not that I’ll ever know,” Kylie muttered. The way things were going, she’d never make it to Japan or China, let alone both. She’d be lucky if she ever made it across state lines. She glanced at Travis, who was still studying her photos. “Since you get what I’m going for, would you please box up everything I need?”

      Travis raised a brow. “Everything?”

      Kylie nodded.

      Faye nudged her. “Don’t you think you should get an estimate?”

      “If you’re talking an extensive renovation,” Travis said as he moved to his work station, “it could get expensive. Especially when you factor in labor.”

      Kylie scrunched her nose. “Hadn’t thought about hiring help.”

      “Don’t tell me you planned on handling everything yourself,” Faye asked.

      “Not all by myself.”

      Faye’s eyebrows rose to her bleached hairline. “Me? You expect me to help? I’m not good with simple home repairs, let alone an entire renovation.”

      “You renovated the Orchard House.”

      “I picked out colors and furniture. Stan renovated the building.” Faye blinked, smirked. “Oh. You expect me to rope Stan into helping.”

      Kylie smiled. “Free shoes for the family for a year?”

      “As tempting as that sounds…”

      “In addition to some sort of cash fee, of course,” Kylie added. Maybe that’s why Stan and Faye were fighting. Money troubles. “I wouldn’t dream of taking advantage of anyone, especially your husband. You guys are like family.”

      “Stan won’t take money from you. Same reasoning. Family.”

      “What about the shoes?”

      “What about the B and B? We have a business to run and I can’t do it alone. Not with two kids in the mix. Besides, we’re knee-deep in our own spiffing-up. The Apple Festival is next week. Starting midweek we’re booked solid and…” Faye broke off and looked away.

      “What?”

      “Never mind.”

      “But—”

      “Just when did you plan to start your renovations?” Faye asked, swinging the subject back around.

      Kylie’s head spun. “Today.”

      “Naturally.”

      “I know it’ll be hard work,” Kylie babbled, flustered by Faye’s ongoing sarcasm, “but, I want to reopen McGraw’s on opening day of the festival. I ordered a special line of stock. Shoes that’ll appeal to the tourists and…” She flushed when she noted her friend gaping at her like a widemouthed bass. “You’re right. What was I thinking? I can’t expect you and Stan to…never mind.”

      “We would if we could, Kylie.”

      “I know. It’s okay. I didn’t think things through. Drunken stupor and all that. Obviously, I’m going to have to hire a crew or at least one very productive man.”

      “I have an estimate,” Travis said.

      Kylie and Faye moved to the counter. They looked at the figure Travis had scratched on a yellow pad. Kylie swallowed. “That much, huh?”

      He slid her Internet printouts under her nose and picked up a pencil. “If you cut this and this—”

      “Nope. Gotta have those.”

      “What about these?” Faye said.

      “I’ve had my eye on those for months. Spied them in InStep Magazine.”

      “You could cut cost by renovating the interior only,” Travis said.

      “Yeah,” Faye said. “It would save time, too. Also, Spenser would only be half as mad.”

      It was the exact wrong thing to say. Kylie shook her head. “I want the whole sushi roll.” She nabbed the pencil from Travis and scribbled her own figure. “This is how much I have to spend on supplies and labor. Obviously, I need someone who’ll work cheap. And fast. Oh, and I’ll throw in free shoes.”

      Travis looked at the figure.

      Faye looked at the figure. She whistled. “You’re taking that out of the business account? Without Spenser’s approval?”

      “No. I’m dipping into my personal account.”

      “Dipping? It’ll wipe you out! What about your dream trip?”

      “It’s just that, Faye. A dream. Sometimes you have to make lemonade out of lemons.” She shrugged. “Or in this case, cider out of apples.”

      “I can’t believe you’re giving up,” Faye said. “You’ve worked so hard. Skimped and saved. Again. I can’t—” Her cell phone blared—ringtone of the month, Evanescence’s “Bring Me to Life.” “I have to take this,” she said after checking the screen. “Hi, Miss Miller.” Sting’s kindergarten teacher. “He did what? He…I can’t hear you. You’re breaking up. Hold on.” Faye gestured to Travis and Kylie she needed to move outside.

      Kylie wondered what planet she’d been on when she’d thought about enlisting Faye and Stan’s help. They had full lives. A business. A family. A marriage. They didn’t have time to indulge her life crisis. Especially when they were, possibly, immersed in their own crisis. Except, if that were the case, why hadn’t Faye confided in her? Which brought Kylie back to her initial worry that Faye’s anger was actually directed at her, not Stan. But why?

      Dang.

      “What about me?”

      Kylie blinked out of her musings and focused on Travis. Her temples throbbed as she processed. “You’re offering to help me renovate?”

      “I