Think Before You Speak Read Free

might have drifted out to the garage
unit. Thankfully it appeared untouched as I pulled inside. At least
something remained familiar, and there was comfort in that.
    “Well, Slinky,” I said to my kitty after
turning off the engine. “We’re home again.”
    My tabby just looked at me with those bright
green eyes and offered a merow in response, then returned to
licking his butt. Ugh. I grabbed the crate and lugged it into the
building, leaving mounds of clothes behind for later.
    I stood at the bottom of the stairwell and
took a deep breath of the familiar smells of musty old warehouse
scented with a hint of greasy fried food. As I trudged upstairs to
the fourth floor, the welcoming scents were joined by a sawdust and
paint chaser.
    The brand new front door greeted us with a
fresh stain of walnut. From the high gloss lacquer appearance I
almost hesitated to knock, afraid it had yet to dry.
    The thick and heavy wood sent my bare
knuckles barking with a single rap. What was this thing made of?
Hedge? Reinforced steel? Both? For a second I wondered if anyone on
the other side could even hear the deep-throated whack until
the slide, thunk, and click sounded and the door creaked open like
a bad horror movie to reveal Reggie’s dark chocolate gaze.
    “ Mein liebchen !” the interior designer
cried, throwing his arms around me before shoving the door aside
for me to enter. “Come. Come. See vat Reginald accomplished in your
absence, yes?”
    First I had to tear my eyes away from the
glaring suit jacket. Bright purple, green, red, and black swirled
in a dizzying array across the designer fabric, topped by an
old-fashioned cravat resting under his chin and jutting out like a
pincushion on steroids. The black cigarette pants were – not made
for middle-aged men.
    One thing you could always say about Reggie
Brown, I mean Reginald von Braun? You’d never forget him once you
met him. Maybe that was all part of his marketing genius. Just
don’t judge him by the fake accent and the loud clothes. The guy
was a lot of things – or wore a lot of things – but
brilliant interior designer topped the list, as evidenced by the
fact that every notable family home in the Dallas metro area
sported a one-of-a-kind Reginald von Braun design.
    Mom came strolling from the bedroom with a
worried smile on her face, tucking a stray hair strand into her
coif. “Well? What do you think, dear?”
    What did I think? The only thing I recognized
was the bank of tall windows off the dining area. Reginald had
listened and kept the window seat area just for Slinky, where my
critter liked to bask in the sunlight. What caught my eye next was
the industrial brick wall separating the living area from the
bedroom.
    “This is beautiful,” I said in awe, touching
the red stones and fresh mortar. “How did you get it to match the
brick between the windows so perfectly?”
    Reggie pursed his lips. “Ah, but Reginald can
work miracles, no?”
    “It must’ve taken an act of God to get
removing this wall past the landlord,” I said.
    “No, no,” Reggie said, waving his arms. “Zee
brick was already zere. It only took removing zat disgusting
plaster to uncover her radiance.”
    “Well, I love it,” I said, planting a kiss on
Reggie’s stubbly cheek before checking out the kitchen. “And this
kitchen.”
    Cabinet style had a more traditional feel –
definitely Mom’s doing. Stainless steel counters topped gunmetal
gray lower cabinets while a polished cement counter covered the
island with swirls of rich color like a kaleidoscope beneath the
pendant lights. Industrial motif heaven – score one for Reggie’s
keen eye.
    The new furniture was pretty traditional also
but in a color palette of charcoal leather, muted tangerine, and
aqua tones. No florals, so Reggie had won the print battle and kept
it leaning toward stripes and solids. With my mom footing the bill,
I’d been leery of what I’d end up with in the furniture department.
This? I could