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“It’s so spacious!” said Odelia as she marveled at the living room, which now formed one large space with the kitchen and former sitting room, and ran across the entire floor.

“And so light!” Marge enthused.

We were in luck that it was a sunny day, and the sun had free rein to cover the entire acreage of the newly formed ground floor of Odelia’s parents’ home.

“We’ll have sun all day,” said Tex, who looked every bit the proud homeowner as he explained what everyone already knew. “In the morning we’ll have the sun in the kitchen, and in the evening we’ll have the sun in the front—nice and sunny all day!”

“Are you sure, Dad?” asked Chase. “I always thought the sun went counterclockwise.”

Tex looked confused for a moment, until he saw the smile flickering on his son-in-law’s lips, and he laughed good-naturedly. “Good one, Chase. Ha ha ha. Very funny.”

“Now all we need is a good decorator,” said Gran. “And we’re in luck, cause I’ve got just the right guy for the job. Highly in demand, and he’s between gigs right now.”

Alarmed, Marge looked over to her mother.“A decorator? What are you talking about?”

“This is just the first step, Marge,” said her aged mother as she gestured around. “Four walls and a roof, that’s all this is right now. What makes a regular home into a show home is a great interior designer—or decorator—I always forget which is which.”

“Show home?” asked Tex, his proud smile morphing into a frown. It was the frown he usually reserved for his mother-in-law, and which crept up his face with practiced ease.

“Sure! Didn’t I tell you? I agreed with the contractor to make this place a show home for the next foreseeable future. That way he can show potential clients what he’s got in store for them, and he’s agreed to give us a ten percent discount on his original quote.”

“Ma, you didn’t,” said Marge.

“Don’t thank me yet, honey. First we need to dress this place up. Turn it into something fit to be printed on the pages of Architectural Digest. And that’s where Jason comes in.”

“Jason?” asked Marge, a deep wrinkle having appeared on her brow. “Who’s Jason?”

“Why, the interior decorator, of course. Jason Knauff. He’s only the most famous interior decorator in the country. He did Diane Keaton’s place, and Meryl’s new home.”

“Oh, dear,” said Odelia, as she cast a worried glance in the direction of her mother.

“Look, we don’t need a decorator, Vesta,” said Tex. “Isn’t that right, honey?”

“Absolutely,” said Marge with conviction, as she gave her mom a censorious look, which slid off the latter’s back like water from a duck.

“So I was thinking we give Jason a free hand,” said Gran. “The man is a genius, after all, and frankly I can’t wait to see what he’s going to do.”

“How much does he cost, this genius of yours?” asked Uncle Alec.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” said Gran, waving an airy hand. And before her family members had recovered from the shock her words had caused, her phone sang out a ringtone in Barry White’s sultry voice and she removed herself from the scene.

The Poole clan stood there, exchanging glances, then collectively heaved a deep sigh.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” said Odelia. “I’ll talk her out of it.”

“And if that doesn’t work, we can always murder this Jason Knauff and bury his body in the woods,” Uncle Alec grunted, and frankly I wasn’t entirely sure he didn’t mean it.

“I think it’s a lovely space, Max, don’t you?” said Dooley, who’d returned from a quick ramble around the newly finished house.

“Absolutely,” I said.

“Though it does have a weird smell to it,” said Harriet, our white Persian friend. And she proceeded to stick her nose in the air and take a sniff, then wrinkled up her nose.

“It smells to new, smoochie poo,” said her boyfriend Brutus. The butch black cat didn’t seem entirely impressed with the minor miracle the builders had pulled off. Then again, like I said, there wasn’t a lot to see yet. One big plus in my book was that this new house had floor heating. I love floor heating, don’t you? So nice and warm to the paws.

“Do you really think Gran is going to hire a decorator?” asked Dooley.

“It certainly looks that way,” I said.

“She’s right,” said Harriet. “Remember what this place looked like before it collapsed? Marge and Tex are lovely people, don’t get me wrong, but they have no sense of style.”

“I thought the house was very cozy,” said Dooley.

“I liked it,” I chimed in.

“Oh, please,” said Harriet. “It was a dump, you guys, and I think being razed to the ground and rebuilt from scratch was the best thing that could have happened to it.” She cut a quick glance to Odelia. “In fact I can think of another house that could benefit from the same treatment.”

Alarmed, I followed her gaze.“There’s nothing wrong with Odelia’s house,” I said quickly, to head off my friend’s train of thought. “Her house is just fine the way it is.”

“Oh, Maxie,” said Harriet with a shake of her head. “It needs a complete makeover. New kitchen, new bathroom—and have you seen that bedroom?”