“Which way are you headed?” I asked when we were outside on the sidewalk again.
“I’m walking you home,” he said, zipping his jacket. It had gotten a little cooler and there was a breeze coming in off the water.
“You don’t have to do that.”
He smiled down at me. “I know, but, like I told you, I am my mother’s son.”
I tipped my head to one side and studied him for a moment. “You are, you know,” I said. “You both get that same look when you’ve made up your mind about something.”
He winced. “Is that good or bad?
I bumped him gently with my hip. “From my experience it depends on whether someone’s on the same side or the opposite one.”
We walked along, talking about some of the differences of opinion Nick and his mother had had over the years.
“You know, the most humbling thing is when I look back I see that most of the time she was right.” He shook his head ruefully.
“Keep that in mind,” I said.
We were in front of my house. “This is home,” I said.
“Oh, you’re living in Isabel’s place while she’s on her honeymoon.”
I shook my head. “No. I’m not in Gram’s place. The main-floor apartment is mine. Actually the whole house is mine. Gram was living here to keep an eye on things for me when I was away.”
Nick took a step backward and looked up at the house. “It’s beautiful,” he said. “How did you end up owning a house here?”
I brushed my hair back off my face. “It’s a long story, but basically I cleaned out a barn.”
His eyes darted uncertainly from side to side. “And what?” He gestured with his hands. “You found this in an old cardboard box?”
I shook my head. “No, I found a Volkswagen bug that hadn’t been driven in twenty-five years—maybe longer. The woman who owned the barn said if I could get it out of the building I could have it. So I did.”
Nick glanced at the house once more and then his gaze came back to me. “And then the car magically turned into this house? What? Were there magic beans in the glove compartment or something?”
“You’re not that far off,” I said with a smile. “I did a little work on the car—well, I bribed Liam to do a little work on the car. Then I traded it for an old MG.” I ticked off the trades on my fingers. “I traded the MG for a camper van, which I lived in for six months. I traded the camper for a one-room cabin”—I shook my head—“and when I say cabin, I mean ‘shack’—that Jess and I lived in for our last year of college. I used the cabin as a down payment on this house.” I held out my hands. “Ta-da!”
“Wow,” Nick said, shaking his head in amazement. “Why didn’t I know any of this?”
I shrugged. “Well it didn’t happen overnight.”
“I guess I should have come home more often.”
I smiled up at him. “You’re here now. You can catch up.” I looked at the stars overhead. It was a clear night, and away from the water there wasn’t any breeze. “Thank you for walking me home,” I said.
Nick smiled. “You’re welcome. I’m not on call tomorrow night. Maybe I’ll see you at Sam’s.”
I nodded. “Maybe you will.”
He took a step toward me and I thought he was going to kiss me, but all he did was lay a hand on my shoulder for a moment.
“Good night, Sarah,” he said, and then he headed down the sidewalk. I stood there for a moment, feeling oddly disappointed that he hadn’t at least tried to kiss me. Not that I wanted him to. At least that was what I told myself.
I opened the store in the morning, and once Rose arrived I printed out a copy of the offer for the pieces I wanted to buy from the Harrington property and got Mac to take a look at it. He leaned against the counter by the cash register, rapidly scanning everything I’d printed, Elvis at his elbow. The cat’s furry black head was bent over the pages like he was reading, too.
“It’s fine,” Mac said, after a few minutes.
Elvis put one paw on the pages and meowed his approval, as well.
“Thanks,” I said. I reached over and scratched the top of Elvis’s head. “And thanks to you, too.” He bobbed his head as if to say “You’re welcome”; then he jumped down and headed toward the storage room. “I’m going to drop this off and go to the bank,” I said to Mac.
“Take your time,” he said. “I’m going to finish sanding that table.”
“And I’m going to change that window display,” Rose said as she came bustling down the stairs. Halfway to the storage room she stopped and turned around. “You don’t mind, do you, dear?”
I shook my head. “No. Do whatever seems right to you.”
She beamed at me. “Thank you,” she said.
Once Rose had disappeared into the back, Mac looked at me, a smile pulling at his lips. “You know you just gave Rose carte blanche to do whatever she wants.”
I shrugged. “It’ll be interesting.”
By the time I got back there were just a few clouds overhead and the sun was shining. Mac was sanding the top of the long table. I could see the fine grain of the wood now that the layers of paint were gone.
“You’re right,” I said, walking over to where he was working. “It should be stained. At least the top.”
He pulled the dust mask down off his face. “That’s the plan,” he said, running his hand over the dusty tabletop.
“You want me to paint the legs?” I said, leaning over to see what shape that wood was in. I could see some nicks and gouges but overall it looked good.
“Please,” Mac said as I straightened up. “You’re a lot better at detail work than I am.”
“Just let me know when it’s ready.”
The leaves on the big maple tree next to the old garage were about four or five different shades of crimson. The air was clean, and for some reason I just felt very glad to be home.
“It’s a good day,” I said to Mac as I started for the back door.
He set down the sanding block he’d been using and reached for a rag. “Hold on to that thought, Sarah,” he said.
What does that mean? I wondered as I opened the door. That thought was immediately followed by Why do I smell bleach?
The answer to that question was easy. There was a bucket of hot, soapy water that smelled like bleach in the middle of the small sunporch. Rose was on a stepladder, a hammer in one hand.
“Rose, what on earth are you doing?” I said.
She turned sideways to look at me, which made her perch on the ladder look a little precarious. “Oh, hello, dear,” she said. “I’m trying to get a nail into this bracket.”
“How about you come down?”
She shook her head, which made the ladder wobble just a bit. “I can’t,” she said. “I can’t reach without the ladder.” She made a face. “Sometimes I don’t like being short.” She looked at me. “My mother used to say I was the little package good things come in, but sometimes I wish the package was just a bit longer.”
I crossed over to her and put a hand on the side of the aluminum stepladder to brace it.
“Come down,” I said. “I’ll do that for you.”
“I almost have it,” she said, and I caught the stubborn edge to her voice.
“Please,” I said, fighting the urge to lean over and snatch the screwdriver from her hand. “I’m taller. It’s easier for me to reach.”
“Fine,” she said. She climbed down off the ladder and handed me the screwdriver. I was tall enough to reach without having to climb on anything, and it took only a few turns to tighten the screw.
“What are you doing?” I asked. Rose had moved down to the end of the porch and was looking up at the single window.
“Well, bless me,” she said. “There are already brackets up here.” My words registered then and she turned to look at me. “I’m hanging blinds, dear. The sun can be pretty strong in here in the afternoon.”