Chapter 280

“Ms. Melanie, there’s a woman here to see you. She…” The assistant hesitated, then lowered her voice as if unsure how to continue. “She seems to believe that you work here, and she’s insisting on meeting you personally so you can receive all the commission from whatever she decides to purchase.”
Melanie raised her eyebrows in surprise and looked at her assistant before shaking her head slowly. “Didn’t you explain to her that we don’t work on commission?”
“I tried… but she wouldn’t hear it. She just kept talking over me. It’s like she knows you-or at least knows of you. So if you have a moment, maybe you could speak with her?”
Melanie let out a sigh, already grimacing. She could guess. Her assistant looked entirely uncomfortable which meant that it was probably the same woman from the club she had met last week. The one who seemed entirely too interested in her. What was her name? Right, Marianne.
Melanie sighed and nodded at her assistant. “Fine. I’ll talk to her.”
She walked out of the office and through the store and almost grimaced as she spotted Marianne near the fabric swatches, flipping through them like she belonged there. Darn. She had hoped she was mistaken and it had been someone else.
As Melanie approached, Marianne looked up and smiled as if they were old friends, even coming forward to hug her. “Melanie. I hope I didn’t cause too much trouble.”
Melanie returned the smile politely, barely sidestepping the hug as she said, “Of course not. Welcome to LuxeArt. How can I help?”
“I’m thinking of redoing my place,” Marianne said, brushing her fingers across a roll of linen. “And the first name that popped into my head was yours. I remembered what you’d said at the club about this store, and I thought-why not come here directly? If anyone deserves the commission, it’s you, for helping me.”
Melanie’s smile didn’t shift. “We don’t work on commission. So, you can buy anything that catches your eye. I’d be happy to show you around.”
“That’s what your assistant said. I didn’t believe her at first. Still. I came for you.” Marianne shrugged for a moment and then, stepping forward, looped her arm through Melanie’s and said,” Even so, I’d like your help. I have the pictures of all the rooms that I want redone. The old pictures of how they looked and the empty ones. So, I just hope you will be able to help me with this.”
Melanie glanced around, noting the filled cart beside her. “Looks like you’ve already made some choices.”
“I have,” Marianne said. “But I’m far from done.”
Melanie nodded once and then stepped back,” We have professional interior decorators on staff. I can connect you with someone who can guide you through the whole process. They’ll be better equipped for helping you out. Do you have any specific style in mind?”
“I don’t want a professional,” Marianne cut in, her tone still pleasant but surprisingly firm for a woman who looked like she was okay with everything and then Melanie muttered, “I want you.”
Melanie blinked at that. “Ugh.I’m not a designer. I work in this place, but I’m not trained in decor.”
Marianne waved that off. “That’s exactly why I want you. I hate professional work—it always feels too clean, too impersonal. All those portfolios and mood boards make everything look the same. I’d rather have someone with taste and instinct. Someone like you.”
Melanie exhaled slowly, keeping her expression neutral. “You don’t even know me. Or my taste. What if it doesn’t suit you?”
“I know enough. We talked for quite some time at the club, remember? I trust your opinion. Also, I am going to be using my own head. I just want someone to sound my ideas against.
Melanie stayed quiet.
Marianne smiled and leaned closer. “Come on. I’ve got the pictures. Just take a look. If it’s really not for you, I’ll back off.”
Melanie glanced at the assistant across the room, then back at Marianne. “Fine. Let’s see them.”
Melanie nodded once and led her down the hallway toward the consultation room. Neither of them spoke as they entered. Melanie gestured to the table, and Marianne pulled out her phone.
She opened the gallery and slid it across. “These are the old rooms. I haven’t touched them in years. Just emptied them out recently.”
Melanie didn’t respond. She sat down, picked up the phone, and started swiping through the photos. One by one, her eyes widening as she swuped throught the first few. Bedroom. Study. Balcony. A hallway with a crooked lamp. A reading nook with an old rocking chair in the corner.
Her face didn’t change. She looked at each image steadily and unhurriedly, her face soon turning impassive.
Marianne didn’t say anything either. Her entire focus was not on the pictures that she was telling Melanie about but on her face. She just watched her. Quietly and carefully. Waiting for something. Anything. A flicker of recognition. A twitch in her brow. A pause. A comment. But there was nothing.
Until Melanie finally stopped at the image of the reading nook. Her finger hovered over it for a second longer than the rest. Marianne felt a flicker of excitement. As a little girl, she used to love sitting in that place for hours on end with her little books. Maybe Melody remembered something? If she did, conversation could flow so much more easily.
Then Melanie sighed and set the phone down.
Marianne straightened a little in her chair, hopeful. “What do you think?”
Melanie looked at her then. Marianne felt her breath catch as she waited for an answer.
Melanie tapped the table lightly once, then finally spoke.
“This house…” she began, voice quiet.
“Yes. Do you think it looks as if you know the place? It looks full of nostalgia, doesn’t it?”
Melanie nodded cautiously and began, ” This house…is quite old, isn’t it?”
Marianne felt deflated at the question as she realized that Melanie had not recognised anything…
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