Aftertaste - Meredith Mileti [111]
I spread out a blanket from the diaper bag, give Chloe the peg board to play with, and head for the kitchen, where I’m joined by Ben. He pulls out his tape measure and a pad of graph paper, and we get to work. We try the stove where it’s already been roughed in, and the dimensions work, give or take an inch, which Ben assures me they can shave off on either end of the cabinetry. But the problem with a stove of this size and power is that you need a significant ventilation system, so I suggest moving it to the opposite wall, an idea Ben likes, as it means the pasta spigot will be closer to the main sink and disposal.
When Skip arrives a while later, Ben and I have a sketch to show him. Skip, who had barely given me a nod when Ben introduced us, looks at the sketch and almost instantly begins shaking his head.
“Nope, this won’t work,” Skip says.
“What do you mean, it won’t work?” Ben asks.
“Well, for starters, what’s this?” he says, pointing to the large rectangular block we’ve drawn just above the stove.
“That’s the ventilation hood for the stove. You need one for a stove this size,” I tell him, trying to sound official. After all, I’ve been asked here in a somewhat professional capacity.
“Well, that’s going to be an issue. She wants the stove on the island. She’s planning on installing a wall-sized flat-screen TV over there”—Skip points to the long wall by the foyer—“and she wants to be able to watch it while she’s cooking.”
“Well, she could put it on the island, couldn’t she, Mira?” Ben asks.
“Well, I—”
“Just nix the hood,” Skip says.
I shake my head. “You need something, and a downdraft won’t do it for a stove this size.”
Skip lays the sketch on the plywood countertop and considers it. After a while he takes the top of his pen and begins cleaning out the dirt from under his fingernails. “How much we talking anyway?”
“I’ve had some experience with professional appliances, so I’ve taken the liberty of preparing a rough estimate,” I tell Skip, handing him a sheet of paper on which I’ve tallied the approximate costs. “This, of course, doesn’t include installation, or the cost of materials for cabinetry and countertop. I know she wants marble counters, but—”
“This is just for the appliances?” Skip has suspended his excavation efforts and is now distractedly running his fingers through his hair.
“Yup. Ben can give you a rough idea of the installation costs.”
“Shit, I had no idea,” Skip says.
“Well, the good news is,” I tell him, “your client probably does. Presumably, she knows something about the brand names she’s suggested. Anybody who knows Gaggenau, knows it’s very high-end.”
“Is this $3,600 for a coffeemaker? That can’t be right! No coffeemaker should cost that much,” Skip says, pushing Ben’s sketch aside and fixing me with a withering stare.
“Look, I didn’t pick the machine. She did. That’s what they cost. Me, I get by just fine with a little stove-top macchinetta at home, but we had a Jura at the restaurant, so I know how much they cost. Most good coffee places have something similar. But you have to want to serve lots of really good coffee to justify one.”
The edges of Skip’s lips are white as he whips out his cell phone. “Okay, I’ll give her a call.” He doesn’t even say thank you.
While Skip is breaking what does, in fact, turn out to be surprising news to his client, and Ben is trying to make an appointment with the general contractor to firm up his estimates, I give the kitchen another once over. If it were mine, I decide, I would do all open shelving, no top cabinetry. Poured and stained concrete for the counters, with a small, marble, inset pastry station. I’d keep my little macchinetta and instead use the coffee station space for a second oven with a warming tray underneath.
Chloe had been happily hammering away at her peg board, but now begins to fidget. Ben and Skip are still on the phone, so I walk Chloe around the apartment,