Everyone was waiting for her to say something. “Thank you all for coming.” She was overwhelmed by their support. She had so many people who cared for her.
“This house ain’t going to get done if we stand around all day,” Hank called, coming up the steps. “I’ve divided people up by the jobs they think they can do.” He showed her his list.
Imogen scanned it. “Looks good. Let’s get to work.”
There were cheers and everyone divided up into their tasks.
Mr. Barker was in the garden, pruning and cleaning up the rubbish. Grandma insisted on helping him where she could. Trent started fixing the picket fence out the front while Sadie, Connor and Piper prepped the outside of the house for painting.
Inside people split off to demolish the two bathrooms, George started up the floor sander in the bedrooms and Imogen, Christian and Hank got to work demolishing the kitchen.
It was true Imogen had never swung a hammer before, but it didn’t take long to learn. Hank demonstrated what to do with the sledgehammer and then handed it to her. It was heavier than he’d made it look and she struggled for a moment to hold it the right way. She hefted it into the air and used the hammer’s weight to crash into the cupboard. The cupboard cracked and she swung again. This time it came away and the elation that filled her was heady. She could really do this.
In what seemed like no time the big items were cleared out and carried to the dumpster she’d hired. Then it was on to the tile removal.
Hank had brought all his tools, so they were well equipped. Imogen worked on the wall tiles, with a hammer and chisel. It didn’t take her long to work out she had to get the angle of the chisel right in order for the tiles to come off easily and she got stuck in. There was a kind of rhythmic quality to the work and she concentrated on the task. This was her house she was renovating. She would knock it back to its bones and rebuild.
She would make it a home.
A hand on her back stopped her mid-tile. Christian had brought her a bottle of water.
“Thought you might be thirsty.”
She took the bottle and pulled down her dust mask. “Thanks.” As she drank, she looked around. They were about halfway through the tiles. Hank had disappeared to help with another task so it was only the two of them in the kitchen and the thud, hum and grunt of the work in other rooms.
“This is incredible,” Imogen said. “I can’t believe how many people have come to help.”
“They all wanted to,” Christian said. “They all care for you.”
How had she got so lucky? Only eight months earlier she had just had her father and Piper in her life. Now she had a whole group of people, including Christian.
He stepped forward and brushed some dust off her nose. “You’re looking particularly adorable today.”
She swatted him away. “I’m a serious demolition expert,” she said and drank some more water. “We should have this done by lunch.”
“Do you want to check out the progress in the other rooms?”
She did, she most certainly did, but she also wanted to finish the kitchen. “I will when we break for lunch.”
Then she turned and got back to work.
***
By the end of the day Imogen was so tired she could barely hold herself upright as she waved goodbye to those that had helped during the day. There were promises to return early in the morning but Imogen couldn’t think that far ahead. She was dusty, dirty and her muscles felt like they were made of lead. All she wanted was a shower and a bed.
“Busy day,” Christian said, wrapping an arm around her waist.
She resisted the urge to flop against him so he could hold her up. “I don’t know where everyone got the energy.”
“They took breaks when they needed them,” Christian told her. “I kept telling you, you needed to rest.”
But she couldn’t. Not while everyone was here, working so hard for her.
“Want to take a walk around?”
She did, but she wasn’t sure she would make it up the stairs. “I might need a hand,” she said.
He smiled. “Come on.”
They went from room to room. Each one had some sign of work, whether it was the window frames being sanded, or the floors, or some other thing. Imogen spotted two floor sanders amongst the dust. The walls she’d flagged to come down were gone but the edges required patching. The wall she was putting in had its frame in place. Both the bathrooms were gutted and the front porch and back veranda had been repaired.
Outside all the trees that were staying had been pruned and everyone had been given bags of oranges and lemons to take home. There weren’t a lot of plants that needed to be ripped out, and those that had to be, were gone. Mr. Barker had hired a turf cutter and was planning to rip up the remaining lawn in the morning.
Exhaustion settled around her and tears filled her eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s too much. I don’t deserve this much kindness.”
Christian brought her into his arms. “Imi, of course you do. You are the kindest, most generous person I’ve met. This is a way people can repay your kindness.”
“Mama’s family doesn’t even know me.”
“But they want to. Perhaps this is their way of apologizing for the past.”
Imogen hadn’t considered that.
“Come on. I think you need a shower and some sleep.”
Because she was so tired and vulnerable she let him lead her to the car. He opened the door and helped her in, bending over to kiss her softly. In that moment, looking up at him, seeing the care in his eyes, Imogen realized she loved him.
She loved his concern for others, the way he made her laugh, she even loved his loyalty to the job he disliked.
She wanted to spend her life with him by her side. She could visualize him here, in her house – in their house – with children running around in the garden.
He moved away to lock up and she stared after him, her breath huffing out with the surprise. Her head was full of love mingled with fatigue, mingled with happiness.
This was a new beginning.
She was going to make the most of it.
***
The alarm buzzed Imogen awake and she moved before she thought better of it.
“Ahh,” she moaned as muscles she hadn’t known she possessed protested.
Next to her Christian chuckled. “I hear you.” He stretched, groaning as he did so.
Imogen checked the time. Every fiber of her body wanted her to turn off the alarm and go back to sleep but all her helpers would be gathering at the house in an hour and she needed to be there to let them in.
She slapped off the alarm and carefully maneuvered herself into a sitting position. “I think I might have been run over by a truck last night.”
Christian sat up behind her and massaged her back.
Imogen’s eyes rolled back into her head. “So good.”
He laughed. “Let’s get you into the shower.” He helped her up and she followed him into the shower. The hot water ran over her back, soothing her aching muscles.
“How am I going to do it again today?” she asked.
“There’s not as much work. The heavy stuff is all done. It will be mostly sanding and scraping today.”
That didn’t sound like much fun to her, but it needed to be done.
And if the others could do it, so could she.
After the shower and the caffeine hit she felt more human but not enough to keep her eyes open during the ride to her house.
When they arrived, Hank and his wife, Marla, were already there working on the outdoor room that was going to be Imogen’s sewing room.
“Morning folks,” Hank called from on top of the roof where he was replacing some tiles.
“How can he be up there already?” Imogen asked.
Marla grinned at her. “He’s the fittest person I know. You forget he does this every day.”
Guilt hit her. It was supposed to be his d
ay off. “He should really get some rest,” she said.
“Nonsense,” Marla said. “He hasn’t been this excited about a project for a long time. You won’t be able to keep him away. In actual fact he’s talking about branching out to do more renovation work rather than just new builds. You’ve given him a new interest.”
Her words made Imogen feel better but she wasn’t entirely convinced. Before she could make sure George’s father really was happy, others started to arrive. Hank came down from the roof to give them all tasks and then went back up with Christian to give him a hand.
Imogen was sanding when Mr. Barker arrived carrying a rolled-up tube of paper.
“Imogen, I wanted to show you my design for your garden.” He gestured her over to the table.
Imogen couldn’t believe he’d done anything. She’d only given him a vague idea of what she wanted yesterday.
He spread out the plans. “This is the front yard.” He took her through the details, including paving the driveway and building a garage on the side of the house that would match the architecture.
It was a simple design and one that would be easy to manage. “Looks wonderful. Send me the invoice for all of this work next week and I’ll pay it straight away.”
He smiled at her and placed the other design on top. “This is the backyard.”
The first thing Imogen noticed was the words secret garden. She examined the drawing as Mr. Barker explained his vision. It was everything Imogen wanted.
When she was finished, she flung her arms around the man and hugged him tightly. “It’s perfect.”
When she let go, his face had gone beet red. “Well, ah, if you like it I could go to the nursery and get the plants for the front yard today. The back will need some structural work before it’s ready for planting.”
“Yes, please.” She wanted to go with him but she couldn’t abandon the house. “Call me when you’ve got everything and I’ll give them my credit card number.”
“It’d be better if you came with me,” Mr. Barker said.
Ingrid was standing nearby and must have overheard. “Go on, honey. Buying plants is one of the most fun parts. We’ve got everything under control.”
“I can’t leave when everyone’s working so hard for me.”
“Of course you can. We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t want to help.”
When Imogen still hesitated Ingrid added, “Do you want me to get Grandma to tell you?”
Imogen smiled. Her grandmother would tell her in no uncertain terms to go. “All right. Thank you. I’ll take my cell in case you need me.”
“We won’t.” It was said with a smile.
After telling Christian where she was headed, she joined Mr. Barker in the car.
At the nursery Imogen was enthralled by the number of plants and colors available.
“If you find anything you like, we can always change the plant selection,” Mr. Barker said.
“Thank you, Mr. Barker.”
The man smiled at her. “I think you’re old enough to call me Ethan,” he said.
“All right. Thank you, Ethan.” That was going to take some getting used to.
They wandered through the nursery filling the cart. A few times Imogen spotted something she loved and added it. Ethan smiled and made adjustments to his notes.
When they arrived back at the house it was mid-morning. The roof of her sewing room had been repaired and people were mostly sanding or scraping floors, window and door frames to prepare them for painting and sealing. The amount of work that had been done was amazing. As soon as the bathrooms and kitchen were finished she could move in.
Feeling guilty for going shopping, Imogen got straight to work planting. It was fabulous to get her hands dirty, dig through the soil and help her garden come to life.
By midday her front yard was complete, with the exception of the lawn.
Christian walked down the front steps of her porch and over to her. “Everyone’s breaking for lunch.”
Imogen turned to him and wrapped her arms around him. “It’s amazing. How am I going to thank everyone for their work?”
“Come with me.” Christian took her hand and led her out to the front pavement. They stood next to each other and looked back at her house.
The picket fence was freshly painted white, the garden was full of color and the front of the house, though needing a coat of paint, was well on its way to looking its best.
Imogen’s neighbor Natalie came out of her house and walked over to them. “I can’t believe the work you’ve done in a weekend,” she said.
Imogen introduced her to Christian and then said, “I’ve had a lot of help.”
“I’ll say. Mrs. Smithers would be thrilled. When are you moving in?”
“As soon as I can. The bathrooms and kitchen need replacing first.”
“Well good luck to you. I’m sure you’ll both be very happy here. It will be nice to have a family there again.” Natalie said goodbye and walked back to her house.
Imogen didn’t comment on Natalie’s assumption she and Christian would both be moving in.
She glanced up at him. She loved him, wanted him to be part of her life, but she had no idea how he felt about her.
His expression was thoughtful. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted him to be thinking so hard about them, so she grabbed his hand. “Let’s get something to eat.”
He let her lead him around the back to where the others were gathered for food.
Grandma had outdone herself again and there was plenty to eat. Imogen piled a plate full and went to talk to Hank.
“How do you think we’re going?” she asked.
“By the time we’re finished this afternoon all there will be left is a little bit of sanding inside and the rest of the outside. I’ve got the kitchen and bathroom people booked to come next week. You should be ready to move in by mid next month.”
Excitement fluttered in Imogen’s stomach. She’d never imagined it would be so soon.
“One thing I would suggest is you pay someone to paint the outside of the house. Everyone’s done a great job prepping the areas they can reach but you really should get some scaffolding up and the professionals in.”
“Can you recommend someone?”
“Yeah. I’ll email you the details tomorrow. He’s a little bit pricey but he’s the best.”
Imogen had no idea how she could express her thanks to all of these people. They had done it for nothing, had worked extraordinarily hard on their days off to help her. Her father would have thrown money at the house but this way felt right for Imogen. She wanted to rebuild the home she’d bought, wanted to put her own sweat into it and make it shine. It was amazing.
The thought of her father made some of the fluttering stop. She’d not heard from him since they fought. Imogen needed to fix their relationship if she could. She wanted her father to be part of her life still. She wasn’t going to let her father’s resentment fester as it had with the Ryder family. Perhaps she’d invite him around to her house next week so he could see what she’d done with it.
“Right people, break’s over. Time to get back to work,” Hank called as he put his plate down on the table and moved back inside.
There were a few light-hearted groans but everyone did as he asked.
Imogen was putting her plate on the table when Grandma stopped her.
“You haven’t eaten enough,” she said with a frown. “Finish what’s on your plate and then you can get back to work.”
Imogen didn’t bother arguing. She picked up the plate and took a mouthful of the food.
“What’s bothering you, lamb?” Grandma asked.
“Nothing.” Imogen could hardly tell her grandmother she was upset her father wasn’t there. It would seem selfish and ungrateful.
“Of course there is. Your mother got the very same expression on her face when something was bothering her.”
Surprise flooded Imogen. “Really?”
Grandma nodded
. “You’re very like her.” She patted Imogen’s shoulder. “So what’s wrong?”
“I was wondering what Papa was up to.” That was the truth, though perhaps not the whole truth.
“Piper said he was busy with a show.”
“Piper spoke to him?”
Grandma nodded. “She called to invite him to come.”
Imogen didn’t need to know what he’d said. The answer was as clear as his absence.
So he had known about the weekend. There was a lot that needed to be said between them but Imogen was determined to fix it. She wasn’t going to spend almost thirty years estranged from her father because of their argument. They needed to come to an understanding.
She put down her empty plate. “I’d better get back to work.” She gave her grandmother a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for everything.”
Her grandmother smiled and replied, “Off you go then.”
***
Imogen spent the rest of the afternoon scraping and sanding the bedrooms. They were the most neglected rooms because the previous owner hadn’t been able to get upstairs to tend them. Still, by the end of the day, all that was required up there was a new bathroom, a good clean and then the painting. She debated whether she could move in now. The toilet was working so the only thing really lacking was a bathroom to wash in. She considered washing using the hose in the backyard. A few cold showers wouldn’t be so bad, would it? She could have breakfast when she got to work and she usually lived on take-away food anyway so that didn’t have to change. If she moved in now, she wouldn’t be a burden on Piper.
“You’re deep in thought.”
Christian’s voice right behind her made her jump back from the window she’d been standing at.
“I was debating whether I could move in now,” she said.
He frowned. “Why? The place is a mess and you don’t have a bathroom.”
Imogen sighed. “Piper’s place isn’t really big enough for the two of us and I hate relying on her.”
“Why don’t you move in with me?” Christian looked as surprised by his suggestion as Imogen felt.
She opened her mouth to say something but no words came out. Did that mean he loved her? Did he mean it only as a temporary measure – a friend helping out a friend? Did he actually want to live with her?
The Texan Quartet (Books 1-4) Omnibus Page 51