by Rye Hart
“It was. I found a contractor that I trust, though I don’t know if I can afford his rates. He’s coming by the cabin later on today to take a look at things. See what kind of estimate he can give me before we talk about what’s feasible.”
“You have someone there that can sit with you while you do that?” she asked. “I can get a flight out or something.”
“Sarah. I’m not a child. I’ve got this. It’s just some pricing, and the guy seems really nice. Liked by the locals, too, which is a big thing in towns like this.”
“One, you’re twenty-two, so technically you are still a child.”
“Says the girl who’s a year younger than me,” I said
“And two, I’m just looking out for you. With everything you’ve been through the past few months, it would be okay if your head wasn’t screwed on straight.”
“Are you calling me crazy?” I asked. “Because if you are, then you’re late to that party.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me flying out?” she asked.
“Sarah. I’m fine. I’m serious. If all else fails, I’ll ask my neighbor for some advice.”
“Uh huh. That neighbor. We’ll talk about him later How much do you have for the repairs?”
“Between the inheritance money and my savings account, I can put exactly $32,461 into the repair of this cabin.”
“And by the way you talk about it, that doesn’t sound like near enough,” she said.
“I was up front with the contractor and told him taking out a loan wasn’t going to be in the cards. He was understanding and even talked about payment plans I could do, which would help my money go a lot further.”
“Payment plans?” she asked.
“Yep. They come in, do the work, draw up the bill, and then I put a certain percentage down and split up the rest into monthly payments over the course of however many months I want to pay on it. That thirty-two thousand could make monthly payments for two, three years before I’d be in trouble, and that would give me plenty of time to get my art going in the right direction.”
“Amanda, don’t get too in over your head. I wouldn’t go spending any more money than you have.”
“I know, I know. I’m not going to go crazy and update the entire place and spend two hundred thousand dollars or some shit. But, if the major repairs took $40,000, I could do the monthly payment thing, use some of the money from my online sales to pay the rest over time, and the big things could get fixed.”
“Just making sure you’re not losing it over there,” she said. “First the cabin’s okay, then it’s a wreck, then you meet some handsome neighbor you’re boning-”
“We aren’t having sex,” I said.
“Fine, a handsome neighbor you want to bone. I’m making sure you’re still being rational .”
“Thanks. I think. Anyway, from what I was able to tell the contractor, the major repairs alone will cost more than what I have. He won’t be able to have a firm estimate until he comes and takes a look at the place, but the general figure was already thirty-five thousand.”
“Yikes. And what does that cover?”
“Replacing the staircase, repairing the porch under the assumption that it doesn’t have to be replaced, fixing the cabinets in the kitchen, stabilizing the kitchen counter, and steam-cleaning the furniture after all the work is done.”
“They steam clean?” she asked.
“No, that was a different service I priced out after I talked with the contractor in town. Anything else will take me way over budget, so I’m hoping for the best when he gets here.”
“When are you expecting the contractor?”
“Around three o’clock today. And yes, I’ll call you once he leaves.”
“Good. I know you’re in the town you grew up in, but you’re a single woman living in a cabin on a mountaintop. That makes you vulnerable, and I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“I appreciate it, Sarah. I really do. Right now, my focus is on repairing this cabin and painting.”
“And your neighbor,” she said.
“And painting,” I said, ignoring her. “Sarah, I’d forgotten how beautiful it was out here. The animals and the sunsets and the trees. It’s inspiring. I’ve already drawn one picture.”
“What was it of?”
“A bird that perched on the windowsill outside. Which reminds me, when all this is said and done, this cabin has the perfect windowsills to have little window box gardens. You know, like herb plants and shit.”
“‘Herb plants and shit.’ You make it sound so magical out there.”
“Shut up. I hate you. Anyway, just some thoughts after all this big stuff’s taken care of,” I said.
“It sounds like you’re preparing to set up camp there.”
I paused as I thought on her statement. In a way, I was. I was slowly settling into a place I’d considered home for years. I was beginning to dig through my grandmother’s room, and with her articles of clothing came memories of us sitting on the porch and talking. I wanted to put up another porch swing like we had before I’d broken it as a kid. And put a couple of rocking chairs on the porch so I could go out there with coffee and watch the nighttime set over the forest.
“I guess it does, huh?” I asked.
“I’ll support you in whatever you decide,” Sarah said. “As long as you have a room for me to come visit. Because I can’t live too much longer without my Amanda.”
“You’ll always be welcome here,” I said. “My grandmother would’ve loved you.”
I felt tears rising in my eyes as I thought about my grandmother meeting my best friend.
“Anyway,” I said. “I should get cleaned up. The contractor will be here in a couple of hours, and I should at least put on a bra.”
“Might be a good idea,” Sarah said, giggling. “Call me right after.”
“Will do,” I said. “Talk to you soon.”
End of Sneak Peek. Would you like to know how this continues?
Click Here: Rock Hard Neighbor: A Single Dad Next Door Romance
COPYRIGHT © 2018 RYE HART - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. While, as in all fiction, the literary perceptions and insights are based on life experiences and conclusions drawn from research, all names, characters, places and specific instances are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. No actual reference to any real person, living or dead, is intended or inferred.