“Jacey, what is all this junk?!”
No answer was forthcoming from the inner depths of the room in question. He turned back to the kitchen.
“This is out of control. My mother is coming in three days and she is going to flip her lid, if she sees all this.”
“Come on, Don. We can’t very well stifle the child’s creativity now can we?” Lucy looked him up and down with that look she was so good at. It made his resolve shiver with a shuddering shake. He didn’t like it anymore than he liked the situation at hand.
“Her bedroom is like the Leaning Tower of Pisa of used furniture.”
“Jacey is learning the fine art of upcycling.” Lucy turned her back to Don and wiped down the already glistening recycled glass countertop.
“She’s eleven! What does she know about upcycling?”
“Well, apparently more than we do. She decorated Emma Mendosa’s sun-room and it is the talk of the town. I think we may have a prodigy on our hands Don. This is no laughing matter.”
“I don’t believe I’m laughing, Lucy. There are more kitchen chairs stacked in that bedroom of hers than there are tables on this whole block. What will my mother think?”
“Don, your mother will be delighted. Jacey has spirit. She knows what she wants. Also, when will the grown man stop fearing what his Mama is gonna think??”
“It would just be really nice, Lucy, to be able to park my car in the garage. Do you know how long it has been?”
“A small price to pay Don. She is happier than the cat that caught the canary. You watch her when she comes back from her consult.”
“Consult? Oh, Mon Dieu. The child is on a consult?”
“Roll with it Don. Jacey has talent. You’ll see.”
“That I don’t question. What I do question is how I am supposed to live amongst the ruins of Jacey the junk collector.”
Don sashayed across the living room to glance back down the hall towards his daughters out-of-control bedroom. He shook his head in dismay, still worried about his mother’s impending visit. What was she going to think?