“There they are. Two of my favorite ladies.”
“Paw Paw!” A conflict of desires played across Stella’s face – her determination to finish her coloring, along with her longing to jump down and hug her grandpa. Leslie chuckled. Stella compromised by staying in her seat, crayon in one hand, while reaching for him with her free hand, squirming and squealing in delight. He wrapped an arm around her and kneeled behind her, his head even with hers.
“Well now, isn’t that a work of art?”
“It’s going to be featured in my prestigious collection,” Leslie said.
“Is that right? Now you’re making me jealous.”
Stella peeked behind her at her grandpa. “Don’t you worry, Paw Paw. I’ll color you one next!” The word came out like “n-ay-xt” with her southern accent.
“You’ve got yourself a deal.” Hank stood and moved to the vacant chair next to Leslie. As the artistic effort continued, he leaned in close. “How are you doing today?”
“Great. I had a wonderfully relaxing beach day yesterday. Perfect.” She grinned.
“Just what the doc ordered, huh?”
“A day at the beach always does me good.”
He stood and slipped away, returning with two glasses of iced water. She took a hearty sip and felt the coolness saturate her system.
“What are you doing for dinner tonight?” he asked.
“I hadn’t thought about it. Of course, I can eat here, but after the feast the last two nights, I think I might want something light like a can of soup.”
He reached toward her hand and gave her middle knuckle a casual caress. “You bring the can, I’ll throw in a cold cut sandwich.”
What was he talking about?
“I’m sorry, let me ask a lady properly.” He lifted her hand and placed it in his own. “Leslie, would you come over to my house for supper tonight? I’ll treat you to a lunchmeat sandwich and canned soup.” He laughed. “I believe I told you I don’t cook.”
“I’d love to,” she said through a smile.
He reached for a red crayon and ripped a stray page out of Stella’s coloring book. She barely noticed. He wrote an address and handed it to her. “What time?”
“Um. 6:30?”
“You got it.” He wrapped his hand around hers and gave it a squeeze. He stood and placed a kiss on Stella’s head. “Bye, cupcake.” The little girl waved. He tossed Leslie a wink.
The day passed pleasantly with the slow pace inherent to a beach vacation day. She spent some time with Stella and was rewarded with a completed coloring, which she took upstairs and hung in her room next to Deakon’s masterpiece. She took a barefoot walk on the beach, working up enough of an appetite to enjoy the dining room lunch of salad, clam chowder (homemade, she suspected), big hard rolls and butter. She enjoyed a few hours of reading time while sitting on the deck outside.
Nerves loomed over her leisurely afternoon, though. Dismayed by the feeling of apprehension that had taken root in her chest, she scoffed at herself. Why on earth would she be nervous about picking up a can of soup and joining a new friend for a sandwich? Ridiculous for a woman her age. You’d think she was a teenage girl facing her first date with a cute boy.
Shaking her head, she tried to concentrate on page 57 of her new paperback, since she’d finished her first one yesterday. But when she read the same paragraph three times without remembering the words, she flipped the book shut and dropped it in her lap. She could so relate to that teenage girl; she was more like her than she cared to admit. She’d spent enough time with Hank over the last few days to realize two things: one, she liked him, and two, he appeared to like her, too. And that elevated this simple evening of canned soup and sandwiches to something past friendship.
And she had absolutely no idea how to deal with that possibility.
She dragged herself out of the chair and went back to her room to shower. About six, she walked out to her car dressed in denim shorts, heeled sandals and freshly painted toenails. She’d chosen a sleeveless top, floral-printed, with a scooped neckline. The days she’d spent in the sun had given her chest, arms and legs the healthy glow of a mild suntan.
At the grocery store, she picked out a small selection of soups: beef and vegetable, chicken and noodle, tomato. Back in her car, she typed Hank’s address into her GPS and drove the short distance to his house.
She pulled into his driveway and took in the sight of his house. It was what would generously be called a “fixer-upper.” Tiny-looking, she supposed it met the needs of a single person. Literally a square wooden house with a door and two windows in the front and an attached porch, she could see a few windows along the side. Gray paint chipped off the house’s exterior. The porch’s lattice finish had slats missing, giving it a neglected look. She pushed the gearshift into Park and gathered her things. Walking across the yard, she added another item to her mental list of items this house needed. The yard needed a mow and probably hours’ worth of trimming.
She climbed the steps but before she could push the doorbell, the door swung open and Hank was standing behind the screen, his smile causing her heart to pound a few beats faster.
“Hi, you found it.” He held the screen door open and reached a hand out for the bag. “Don’t you look pretty as a picture?”
She chuckled.
“Something funny?” he asked with a grin.
“I tell ya, I could get spoiled being around you. I’m not used to so many compliments.” She supposed it was his southern upbringing, but she had to admit she liked it.
“How could a beautiful lady like you not get flooded with compliments? Good thing you dumped that ole man of yours. He didn’t deserve you.”
She waited for a bite of pain at the thought of her failed marriage, but it didn’t come. He’d meant it good naturedly, and she accepted it that way.
They walked into the tiny house, and as she expected from looking at the outside, the floor plan was very simple. The front door led into a great room and behind it, the kitchen. A short hall to the left led to two bedrooms in the back of the house, one on each side, and a single bathroom. The impromptu tour took all of two minutes. But she puzzled over the abundance of furniture crammed into the little place. And good stuff too. Rich leather couch and loveseat, an oak table that looked to be hand crafted. In the bedroom, a full suite of matching furniture. It didn’t add up. Why would he have such a ratty house, yet fill it with showcase-quality furniture?
When the tour was done, he took her to the kitchen. “What would you like to drink?”
He showed her the choices, and she opted for a diet cola. He handed her the drink on ice, and busied himself opening the soup cans and pouring the contents into three separate pots, warming up the burners on the stove.
“Can I help you with anything?” she asked.
“No, no. You relax. You’re on vacation.”
She laughed and sat at the table in the main room, where she could still keep an eye on him in the small kitchen. “Yes, I am. And I haven’t felt this pampered in years.”
The soups taken care of, Hank set out slices of bread on a cutting board, then went to the refrigerator, returning holding a variety of deli bags of meats and cheeses. He laid the options out, creating a smorgasbord. Soon, he poured the soups into bowls and they helped themselves to hearty deli sandwiches and soup.
“How was your day today? Are you still at the Old Gray Barn?”
“Nah,” he said, swallowing his bite. “Finished up there for now, but I get a lot of work from that management company. I’m down the street now, working on one of their other old properties.”
“Guess it keeps you busy.”
“Sure does.”
A question formed in her mind but she kept it unasked. Something about this man had her wondering. What was his story? He was obviously capable of refurbishing an old house to its former glory. But why didn’t he use those skills on this place?
And why was a man his age, after successfully raising a f
amily of his own, living in this sort of ramshackle hut anyway?
And how would she even tackle these personal questions with a man she’d only known a few days, without him telling her (rightfully) to mind her own business?
She picked up the second half of her sandwich and dipped it into the broth of chicken noodle soup. “So, tell me about this place. How long have you been here? Do you have any plans for it?”
He smiled, but a shadow of an uncomfortable expression crossed his face. She’d hoped the questions sounded like general conversation topics. Were they threatening somehow?
He finished chewing his bite of sandwich, then leaned back in his chair to size her up. “Long story, there.”
“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine.”
He took in a breath, pushed it out with some effort. “In fact, I do. That’s one of the reasons I invited you over here tonight.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you believe in the power of prayer, Leslie?”
His question took her by surprise because it seemed like a complete change of topic. They were talking about his house, now they were talking about prayer.
“Why, yes. Yes, I do.”
He nodded, grinned. “I thought so. I really did.” He stood and held a hand out to her. She took it and he led her to the great room, where they settled on the sofa she’d seen earlier. The leather was highly shined and comfortable as she sank into it with him.
“I’m taking a chance here, Leslie. I’m hoping you won’t think I’m crazy for saying this, but here I go. I’ve been praying for a long time, and I really believe you’re the answer to my prayers.”
He stopped and looked into her eyes, undoubtedly waiting for some reaction. Some discouragement to continuing. But he wasn’t going to find it here. After all she’d experienced on this trip, one thing she was sure of: God utilized people who believed in Him to help other people on this earth. All people needed to do was believe, and be willing to help out where needed. God does great things through those with a willing heart.
“I don’t think you’re crazy. Go on.”
An audible sigh of relief left his lips and a smile played there. “I didn’t think God had led me astray. First He introduces this beautiful lady into my life, then when you told me those amazing stories about your roadtrip, how you were able to help people just by being in the right place at the right time, and keeping your eyes and ears open, I knew it was the Creator giving me the nudge I needed.”
“An answer to prayer?”
“Yes, but for someone as stubborn as me, it takes something more than subtle. It takes something like a bang over the head with a hammer.”
Leslie laughed at the image. “Ouch. So tell me, what is it you’ve been praying about? And how do you think I can help?”
He squeezed her hand, which was still lodged in his. He looked down at their hands, then up into her eyes. “Do you remember me telling you I had a son named Jeremy?”
“Yes, two daughters and one son. And Jeremy used to work with you in your family business.”
“Right. Jeremy was my shadow when he was a kid. He enjoyed going along on my jobs with me, whenever he could. He got real handy with tools at a young age, and when he came onto a job site with me, I’d give him jobs to do. By the time he was a teenager, I swear he was about as good at handyman stuff as I was. He tried a lot of different jobs, and with me looking over his shoulder, checking his work, we became quite a team.
“After high school, Jeremy went to college and got a degree in business. He had big plans for the handyman business. I’d always kept it small. Just me in the winter months, add some seasonal help in the summer when the jobs picked up. It was enough to support my family. We weren’t rich but we certainly had enough to live on. Plus, Jeremy and I had built our home.”
He looked around the tiny bungalow. “Not this place, no. At the peak of the business’s success, Jeremy and I designed and built a big, beautiful home right off Pawleys, inland about a mile from the coast. He was the site manager and his dream was to use the house as a spec home to build a home construction business. He wanted to expand to where the big money was. Move away from doing smaller jobs, and only take on the bigger.”
He turned his head and the tension around his eyes proved how difficult the telling of this story was for him.
“As Jeremy got more and more involved in the business, I let him take over more and more responsibility. Heck, I didn’t want no part of it. I went along with his business plan, but I personally wanted to stay with the handyman stuff. It’s what I’d always done, and I didn’t want to break out of my comfort zone. Let the young turk run with the big, expensive jobs. That’s what I sent him to college for.
“So, before you know it, Jeremy was in charge of all the finances – paying all the bills, investing all the income, making the purchase decisions. He was taking on bigger projects and hiring help to get them done. Before I knew it, he had twenty full time employees, taking on enough work to keep them all busy. It worried me, because we’d always been such a small operation. But I knew he was young and energetic and educated, and this was his vision, his dream. I wanted to get out eventually and leave the business to the next generation. So I kept doing what I’d always done. I stayed on the side doing handyman jobs, and I put my head down and closed my eyes to what was going on.”
A shudder slipped down Leslie’s spine.
“I knew there was trouble, but it was way too late to turn it around. I noticed Jeremy was getting touchy. You know, tense, grumpy, rude. I tried to ask questions, but he brushed me off. We both knew I’d put my head in the sand, and now that he was evidently in over his head, his attitude was, I couldn’t help. We struggled with that for a while. But the bomb hit a few months later.
“My wife, Ruthie, hadn’t been feeling well. She went to the doctor and we discovered the worst. Ruthie had leukemia.”
Leslie gasped. “I’m so sorry!”
He gave her a comforting smile. “It’s okay, darling. It’s been ten years ago now.” He turned to face her on the couch. “Don’t get me wrong. Not a day goes by I don’t think of her, but the sting of loss has passed.”
Leslie knew the feeling. She’d lost both her parents and still thought of them frequently.
Hank continued, “She started treatment and a few weeks in, I got a rejection letter from the insurance company. It came to the house, but since our insurance has always been a business expense and Jeremy was the one paying the bills, I went to him, thinking there must be some mistake. Maybe he’d missed a payment and could send it in, and we’d get the doctor’s bill paid.” He shook his head. “Unfortunately, this was the tip of the iceberg. And over the next few years, we chipped away at that thing till the whole ugly story came out in the open.”
He shifted in his seat and went on. “Long story short, Jeremy was in over his head and had made some bad business decisions. A lot of them. He’d taken on too much work and bid way too low to get the jobs. His first few construction projects, he operated at a loss. Unbeknownst to me, he wiped out the company’s savings, accumulated over my lifetime, and still couldn’t pay his employees and his suppliers. Then he started cutting corners on the projects. Eventually, he had several lawsuits on his hands. People suing him because he hadn’t paid them, because the houses weren’t good quality. How he kept this from me for so long, I have no idea. I was a fool going merrily along my way, thinking everything was fine.”
Leslie leaned in close. “You can’t blame yourself for this. Jeremy was a grown man, making business decisions. Those were his mistakes, not yours.”
Hank’s voice softened with grief. “Yeah, but he was my boy. And it was my business he was destroying. My life’s work I’d built up for over twenty years.” He shook his head. “I was so naïve.”
He pulled a shaky hand over his chin. “When Jeremy realized what deep crap he was in, he took out a huge loan and the loaner was, shall we say, not the most reputable. But
any bank or loaning institution would come in and do a check of the business to see what kind of shape the books were in. And Jeremy figured, probably rightfully, we would be turned down.”
“Because he’d spent all your money,” Leslie murmured.
“Right. So he went with some guy he found in Atlantic City. I never found out who this guy was exactly, but you can imagine. He gave Jeremy a big wad of cash and demanded a huge interest rate of return. Jeremy took it, thinking if he could pay off his current debts, he could apply what he’d learned and start pricing his jobs properly, and go legitimate – earn some good profit moving forward.”
Leslie looked down at her lap. “But it didn’t work out that way.”
“No. He used the money to pay off the lawsuits, had a little left over to pay off some unpaid bills. But the construction company’s reputation was destroyed by then. There are a lot of outfits around here that want your business to build houses. And word travels fast. News of Jeremy’s problems spread and he didn’t win any bids with his new pricing model. Nobody would hire him. Not to say I blamed them.”
Leslie sighed. “And I suppose the insurance was cancelled?”
Hank nodded. “That was one of the bills that went unpaid. By the time Jeremy had the loan money to pay it off, our policy had already cancelled. And now that Ruthie had a serious medical condition, we couldn’t get it back. We were all uninsured.”
Leslie shook her head in disbelief. What a horrible story. What a disaster this family had been through. Yet Hank had said she was an answer to his prayers. So he hadn’t lost his faith through this catastrophe. That was good. But what could she possibly do to help him?
“Obviously, once I found out about all this, I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I took over the business side and dug into all the financial issues. As much as it killed me, I fired Jeremy and all his employees, those who hadn’t already quit. I had to. There was no way around it. And I declared bankruptcy for the company. The company eventually dissolved, and I took on the responsibility of paying off all those outstanding debts.”
Pawleys Island Paradise boxset, Books 1 - 3 Page 11