“This shouldn’t be too hard,” Garry said, eying the bed. “It’s only head and footboards and the rails. If we take the drawers out of the dresser…”
“That’ll help. I can use it for storage in the basement.”
As they took everything down there, Garry asked, “What happened to all his things, like clothes and knickknacks and what have you?”
“When I spoke with his lawyer, back when I first found out I’d inherited the house, I asked him to give all Gramps clothes to the local thrift shop. As for the rest of the stuff, other than the furniture, he said he’d hire someone to pack it up and…Okay, I guess that’s what’s in the boxes in the shed, except for all his tools.” He gestured toward the workbench along one basement wall, separated from the washer and dryer by a slop sink.
“So you’re in for a treasure hunt, once you’ve settled in,” Garry replied with a grin.
“From what I remember, he didn’t have anything remotely close to a treasure.”
“You never know. There could be some stuff that has antique value.”
Wylie nodded. “Maybe. I guess I’ll take a look if I get terminally bored.”
A few minutes later, as they put the drawers back in the dresser, Garry said, “Do you mind if I ask what you’re going to do, once you’re all moved in? Tom told me you were a private detective. Are you going to start up again, here?”
Wylie snorted. “Not if I can help it. I want to get away from all that. I guess, for a while, I’ll just enjoy not having to do anything. Okay, I’ll do some redecorating, paint the walls, and maybe get new carpeting that doesn’t look like it was laid when the house was built, and get rid of the God-awful linoleum in the kitchen.”
“That’ll keep you busy for the next couple of months,” Garry said with obvious amusement.
“I suspect so.” Closing the last drawer, Wylie headed upstairs with Garry right behind him. When they got to the kitchen, he asked, “What do you do to keep a roof over your head?”
“I own The Parish Garage.”
Cocking his head, Wylie said, “I don’t remember seeing it the last time I visited Gramps. Oh, well, at least when my car decides to die I know where to take it.”
Garry grinned. “You might be disappointed.”
“Why?”
“It’s a bar and restaurant. Before you ask, it used to be Miller’s Garage.”
Wylie snapped his fingers. “Then I do know it, or where it is.”
“Good. I used to manage Molly’s Eats but I always wanted to have my own restaurant. It’s what I went to school for. When Miller decided to shut down his business and retire, I bought the building. Then I did extensive remodeling on the interior and renamed it The Parish Garage. We’ve got the best food in town, at least according to my regulars.”
“Great. I might check it out tonight. I’ve got the feeling by the time I get finished doing at least a cursory cleaning and unpacking some of the boxes I’m not going to be in the mood to cook.” Wylie opened one of the kitchen cupboards and sighed. “I’ll have to go grocery shopping before I can cook, and that won’t happen until tomorrow.”
“Stocking up would be a good idea,” Garry agreed. “That said, I’d better get out of here. My employees like it if I show up on time to let them in.”
“Thanks for your help. I owe you.”
“Invite me to dinner when you’ve settled in,” Garry replied. “It’ll be a change from restaurant food, even if—” he grinned, rubbing his fingernails on his shirt, “—what we serve is the best around.”
“No ego there, but you’re on in spite of the ‘brag’. Again, thanks for giving me a hand.”
“You’re welcome.” With that, Garry left, followed soon after by the movers, once they had brought in the last of the boxes. Since Wylie had labeled them, they took some upstairs to the bedrooms and put others in the kitchen or the main room, as designated.
“Now I have to figure out where they put the vacuum,” Wylie muttered as he looked around. “There’s no way I’m unpacking anything until I’ve done some basic cleaning.” He finally found it, hidden behind the boxes holding his books.
He didn’t finish cleaning until late in the afternoon, at which point he sank down on his sofa with a sigh of relief—until he looked at the boxes which still had to be dealt with. “I need a servant or three,” he grumbled. “Or better yet, I need to see if Garry’s restaurant is as good as he thinks before I do anything else.”
Going upstairs, he quickly unpacked his suitcase and the boxes with his clothes, hanging up his pants and shirts and putting the T-shirts, sweats, and underwear in the dresser after moving it and the bed where he wanted them. Then he made the bed once he found the box holding his linens. When he finished, he got a towel and a washcloth from the same box, as well as the personal items that were in his suitcase, and went to take a shower. Setting the soap and shampoo on the window ledge, he stepped into the shower, turned it on, and let the hot water ease the aches in his back and shoulders while he washed up. When it turned cool he stepped out, dried off, and dealt with his hair. Returning to his bedroom, he got dressed in clean jeans and a button-down shirt. Checking that he had his wallet and keys, he went downstairs, getting his jacket from the hook by the front door, in deference to the cool night air. He locked the door on his way out, and took off for where he remembered Miller’s Garage used to be—at the far end of Market, the main street which ran through the ten block area that comprised the town’s business section.
Wylie found the building easily enough because it looked as it had the last time he’d seen it, albeit with fresh paint and a sign over the front entrance that said ‘The Parish Garage—Fine food and drinks’. He parked in the lot next to it and then went inside.
What had been the garage’s small showroom and office area was now a well-appointed bar with an archway at the side opening onto the restaurant—which had previously been the repair area of the garage. At the moment, given the hour, the place was busy, every table occupied in both the bar and the restaurant.
“Are you here for dinner?” the woman at the hostess station asked him.
“Yes.”
“Only you or will someone be joining you?”
“Just me.”
She checked her computer, took his name, and told him there would be approximately a fifteen minute wait. He thanked her, and then crossed the room the bar, getting there seconds after someone vacated a stool, sat, and ordered a beer.
He’d barely taken his first sip when he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Garry standing there.
“You found us.”
Wylie chuckled. “It wasn’t all that hard.”
“What do you think of my place?”
“From what I’ve seen so far, you did a great job of turning it into a restaurant,” Wylie replied. “It’s popular, too. Tourists?”
“About half and half, as usual. The joys of Earlston being a tourist town.”
“Keeps you in business, so don’t knock it,” Wylie said with a grin.
Garry laughed. “Trust me, I’m not. Have you settled into your house?”
“Define ‘settled’. I vacuumed and dusted, made the bed, put away everything that belongs in the bathroom, and my clothes. By the time I finished it was dinnertime, so here I am.”
“Tomorrow you tackle the downstairs, I take it.”
Wylie nodded. “More or less. Deal with the kitchen then grocery shop, which should put a big dent in my bank account. Oh, is there someone in town you’d recommend to paint the main room for me?”
“Yep, Carl Mulligan. He’s the local jack-of-all-trades, so to speak. He painted my bedrooms and did a damned good job of it.”
Wylie was about to reply when the hostess came over to tell him his table was ready. He thanked Garry for the suggestion and followed her to one against the far wall of the restaurant. After perusing the menu she handed him, he was ready to order when the waitress came over. After she left, he took the paperback h
e was reading from his jacket pocket. He’d barely opened it to where he’d left off when he heard someone say, “I hear you need a good painter.” Looking up he saw an older man wearing overalls and a baseball cap.
“You must be Carl Mulligan,” Wylie replied.
“Yep. Garry pointed me your way.” Without asking, he pulled out the other chair and sat. “You’re Tom’s grandkid, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Forget the ‘sir’. I’m Carl, pure and simple. So what do you need painted? My guess would be the main room. God-awful color now, if you ask me.”
Wylie laughed. “I agree. I haven’t thought about what color it should be quite yet.”
“Tell you what. I’ll come by tomorrow with some paint samples. You can look at them and then decide if you want to hire me.”
“Thank you.”
“Your granddad was a good man, Wylie,” Carl said. “Drank a bit too much but can’t say’s I blame him. He missed his wife something awful.”
“I know.”
“He was real proud of you.”
Wylie looked at him in surprise. “He was?”
“Yep. ‘Course he probably never told you. He was kinda shy on giving out compliments, but he’d brag about how you had your own business, you and a partner. Wasn’t too happy about your other choices but I get there’s not a damned thing you can do about that.”
Chuckling, Wylie replied, “Not really.”
“Okay, I’ll leave you to it since Nelly’s on her way over with your dinner and…What time tomorrow?”
“Can you wait until after one? I have to grocery shop in the morning.”
“Sure thing. See you then.”
Carl had barely left when the waitress, who Wylie could only presume was Nelly, set his meal down in front of him.
“Do you want another beer?” she asked.
“No thanks, but I would like some coffee.”
“Okay. I’ll be right back.”
She was, filled his cup, and then said, “I hear you’re Tom Lewis’s grandson.”
“The word spreads fast. I am.”
“It’s a small town, so don’t be so surprised. Nice to meet you. He used to come in now and then. I liked him.”
“So did I,” Wylie replied, which wasn’t totally a lie. He had, when his grandfather was sober.
“I’d hope so.” She smiled, said, “Enjoy your dinner,” and moved on to another table seconds after he said, “Thank you.”
The food, as Garry had promised, was excellent. Wylie ate slowly while he read, savoring every bite. When the waitress came by to ask if he wanted dessert, he declined. “If I eat any more I’ll waddle out of here. Perhaps next time. If I may have the check, please.”
She gave it to him, he handed her his credit card, and then finished his coffee as he waited for her to return. Once he’d signed the slip, adding a tip, he stood and walked toward the front door. Garry intercepted him, asking if he’d enjoyed his meal.
“Definitely. I’m sure I’ll be back, often.”
“I hope so,” Garry replied.
“And I haven’t forgotten,” Wylie said. “Once I’m fully settled in, if that ever happens—” he rolled his eyes, “—I’ll have you over for dinner.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
With that, Wylie left. When he got home, he spent some time unpacking the boxes of kitchen items, including the non-perishable food he’d brought with him from his old place. That way, he’d be able to make breakfast in the morning. Then, he realized that wouldn’t happen until he went shopping. I don’t think I want soup or dry cereal without milk. At least I have coffee to get me going.
He gathered up the empty boxes, took them down to the basement, and then went upstairs to get ready for bed, which meant washing up, brushing his teeth, and putting on a clean pair of briefs. Before he lay down, he crossed to the window that looked out over the back yard. Beyond the fence surrounding it he saw houses to the north, and then low, rolling hills with lights from a few scattered homes shining through the trees.
I think I’m going to like it here. In fact I know I will, even though it’s very different from the city. Thanks, Gramps, for giving me the house.
He stretched and yawned, suddenly very tired from everything he’d done since he’d arrived that morning. Getting into bed, he pulled up the covers, and moments later he was asleep.
Chapter 3
Wylie was awakened early Wednesday morning by sunlight streaming through the window. He got up, dressed, and then went downstairs to brew coffee, which he drank while making out a list of everything he needed from the grocery store. He knew there were two of them in town, a smaller mom-and-pop one and another belonging to national chain. Given that he was starting from scratch as far as filling the fridge and adding to what was in the cupboards, he opted for the larger one.
As he drove down the Market Street, he checked out the various buildings on either side. There were several shops that carried items by local artists, as the town had a reputation as an arts and crafts center. There were also several stores that catered to tourists looking for antiques and other collectibles, as well as several small restaurants, a movie theater, and a bowling alley, all housed in buildings that had been built fifty to one hundred years ago. Most of the shops had second stories which he knew housed businesses and apartments.
When he was through the downtown, he drove another mile, passing homes that, from the look of them, were as old as the buildings along Market. It was a bit of a shock when he saw the modern grocery store, a couple of fast-food places, and two service stations that catered to people who were passing through town on the way to wherever. He found a spot to park in the grocery store lot and went inside.
An hour later, feeling as if he’d bought out the store, he was in line to check out.
“You’re Tom Lewis’s grandson,” the woman behind him said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Wylie replied. He had no idea who she was, which was quickly remedied when she introduced herself.
“I’m Mrs. Harte. My husband and I live in the block behind Tom’s house. Well, your house, now. I knew it was you by the load of groceries you have, and the fact that there’s a family resemblance.”
“So I’ve been told, Mrs. Harte,” Wylie replied.
“Please call me Betty. How are you settling in?”
He chuckled. “It’s only day two so it’s going to take a while, but so far, so good, thank you.”
“Are you going to redecorate?”
“If painting the main room counts as that. Well, not me per se. Garry Parish recommended Mr. Mulligan for the job.”
“You know Garry? He’s a nice young man. My daughter Alicia is quite smitten with him. Not that it does her any good,” she added, lowering her voice. “He’s not the least bit interested in women.”
Wylie almost said, “Neither am I,” but decided discretion should be the watchword until he found out if being gay would present problems. From the fact she spoke so softly, he thought it might, at least for some of the older people in town, the way it had been for his grandfather.
At that point, he had to unload his cart onto the conveyer belt. “It was nice to meet you,” he told Betty.
“You, as well.” She smiled, tapping his arm. “You know you’ll have to have a house-warming party to get to know all your neighbors.”
“Umm, I suppose.”
“If you need help with it, call me. I love planning parties. After all, it is what I, well me, Jake, and Alicia, do. We’re ‘Parties from the Heart’, a play on our last name.” She handed him a card which he pocketed, thanking her before he finished emptying his cart.
When everything was bagged and paid for, he returned to his car. Most of the bags fit in the trunk. The rest went into the back seat. As much as I bought, maybe I should have used Gramps truck, if it runs. Something he put on his mental to-do list to find out—sometime.
* * * *
Carl Mulligan showed up at the house
at one-fifteen, giving Wylie barely enough time to put his groceries away and make a sandwich, which he was holding when he opened the door.
“Go ahead and finish that,” Carl said. “I’ll take a look around while you eat.”
Wylie did, since he was hungry, and then looked at the paint samples Carl had spread out on the dining table.
“My suggestion is something light but not white,” Carl said, pointing to one row of samples.
“Not those two,” Wylie protested as they were green toned. “They’re just a paler shade of what’s already here. I like the rich cream ones.” He chose two, holding them up to the woodwork. “Too dark, but…” He picked up the ones a couple of shades lighter. “What do you think?”
“This one brings out the richness of the woodwork,” Carl replied after studying them. “Are you planning on re-carpeting, too? If so, you might change your mind once you take the old stuff up. My bet is there’s nice hardwood flooring underneath this.” He tapped a toe on the carpet.
Wylie nodded, grumbling, “It’s never-ending, isn’t it.”
Carl laughed. “It is, so we’ll do the walls and you can make up your mind about the carpet when I’ve finished.”
“When can you start?”
“I’ll have to pick up the paint, so Friday if that works for you. It’ll give you time to move all the furniture into the middle of the room.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Welcome,” Carl replied with a grin. “Now you’re certain this is the one you want?” He held out the sample.
“Yes.”
“All right. I’ll see you Friday morning, bright and early. I should be able to get this finished by Saturday afternoon at the latest. Oh, you might want to know what this is going to cost you.”
“It would probably be a good idea,” Wylie agreed. Carl took a tape measure and a pad of paper from his bag and spent the next few minutes jotting down the dimensions of the walls. Then he got out a calculator and a sales pad. After figuring it out, and adding in the cost of the paint and supplies, he handed the results to Wylie.
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