Building Home

by Dee Ernst

  Oh, he was such a nice guy to realize that about the two of them. I felt my face burst into a smile. “I know. I’ve walked that ground with them. And I’ve tasted their wine. I ask for it over a tall glass of ice, that’s the only way I can drink it. That is a great story. So, you’ve known them for a really long time?”

  He raked his fingers through his beard. “You didn’t have to put so much emphasis on the really, but yes, I certainly have. I managed to stay in touch with them, even when I was in Boston. I don’t get to spend as much time with Celeste now, just too busy. But I did see Connie a few months back. She’s not…happy where she is.”

  “I talked to Celeste last week. She gave me the whole scoop: selling the property, moving into assisted living with Connie…she’s got her new place already picked out, and it sounds nice.”

  “I know where she’s talking about, and it is nice. I’m thinking about signing up there right now, you know, planning for the future.” There was that grin again. “All it takes is money.”

  “Which they will certainly have, but, well, I convinced her to put off your, ah, ex-wife.” I said, breaking off another piece of roll for Joe.

  “You what?” His eyes popped open.

  “I think Daniel should buy the property. Has he told you about his build-a-village idea? That property would be perfect. I just need to talk him into it.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Daniel? I had the feeling this project on Main was going to be a one-off deal.”

  “Maybe. Daniel changes his mind quite frequently, especially about his business dealings. I’ve seen him walk away from a project after months of negotiations, and then turn around and invest millions on a pitch at a cocktail party. If I can convince him that he could make money—and win the approval of the entire county to boot—by keeping some of the land as green space, I think he’ll go for it.”

  “I know that Celeste and Connie would really love to see somebody take that property and try to save a bit of what they loved about it. And I know that Amy is not that person.” He shook his head and pursed his lips. “Definitely not that person. Well, he’s back next week, so go ahead and make the pitch.”

  “I will. Celeste was a little worried about putting Amy off, so I told her if there was any problem, to send Amy to me.”

  “WHAT?” His jaw dropped. “You told her to send Amy…are you kidding? Do you have any idea what that could mean?”

  I have to say I was a bit taken aback. “I guess maybe I don’t,” I said slowly.

  Mike settled back and covered his eyes with his hand, shaking his head. “Oh, my goodness. Well, if that does happen, please call me, because where ever I am, and whatever I’m doing, that is something I really want to see.”

  “Mike, if she’s as awful as everyone says she is, then why did you marry her?” The words popped out of my mouth, and there was nothing I could do to jump after them and try to drag them back where they belonged.

  He took a deep breath. “When I was in Boston, I was with a terrific woman for years. We never married because, well, because we never did. When I lost my job, I asked her to come down here with me, but she had her own life, a great career, her family was there…so she stayed and I left and it was hard. I was just starting the business with Steve, feeling totally sorry for myself, and then I ran into Amy at some business breakfast and…” He looked away, as though trying to find the right words.

  “She and I…well, you know that old song, about getting married in a fever? That was us. We met, and there was a, ah, certain chemistry. When she said we should get married, I thought it was the best idea I’d ever heard. Eventually, we had to get out of bed and start talking to each other, and that’s when the problems began. Luckily, we hadn’t been together long enough to warrant anything more than a simple, do-it-yourself divorce. We still see each other from time to time, but when it happens, I’m usually walking very quickly in the opposite direction.” He grinned. “Steve will still give me a hard time about it, every once in a while. But he knows better than to mention her too often.”

  “He did mention her, when we were talking about the Coop. And Daniel mentioned her too, when we were talking about his interest in the area.”

  “I like Daniel,” Mike said.

  “I do too. But the last few years we were together it was just that. Like. I think we stayed a couple out of habit more than anything else.”

  He looked at me steadily. “That happens to people. He told me about your mom. I’m sorry.”

  I felt a rush of tears. It happened, sometimes, just when I thought I was over her death and everything was back to normal. “Thank you.”

  “He’s very surprised that you’re here. He told me he couldn’t imagine you just leaving Rehoboth and buying a house, just off the cuff like that.”

  They had talked about me? Really. Whose idea was that? Was it because Mike was curious?

  “Daniel is right. This is unusual for me. After my mother died, the only thing left for me in Rehoboth was a career I was starting to feel very ambivalent about, so I decided to try living my life…differently. I’m taking a few risks now, doing things I never would have even thought about before. Like buying a house I’ve never seen.” Or like falling hard for Mike McCann, I thought. “It’s scary, but so far it seems to be paying off.”

  He reached over, picked up his coffee mug and took a long drink, watching me over the rim of the cup. When he set it down, he said, “Hear you went to lunch out at Curry’s last week. How did you like that blue-ribbon service?”

  I had to think for a second. “Curry’s? Is that where Steve took me? Best crab cake sandwich I think I’ve ever had, but your brother had to practically bludgeon the waiter into bringing me another glass of water.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, that sounds about right. It’s one of Steve’s favorite places.” He was watching me carefully. “He likes to bring his women there.”

  I tore my eyes from his and focused on my sweet roll. I broke off a piece and chewed carefully. “It was just lunch,” I said. I leaned across the table. “But he asked me out, and I really haven’t talked to him since. Is there going to be a problem? I mean, with the house?”

  Mike shook his head. “No. Don’t worry about that. Steve, well, he loves women. Loves the way they look and what they say. Especially what they do. But, he doesn’t really like them. And he doesn’t get…attached. So I’m sure he’s over it by now. He may take another stab at it, but that’s just his way. But he did mention it. See, he doesn’t get turned down very often. And he seemed…intrigued by your refusal.” His eyes were bright. “Why did you say no?”

  What could I say? That although Steve was a perfectly nice and quite good-looking man, he was not the McCann I was interested in?

  This was the moment. I could look Mike straight in the eye and tell him that the McCann I really wanted was…

  But it was just too much. I gulped. “I told him that I was just getting my footing around here and wanted to stick with my women friends and concentrate of getting my life in order.”

  He nodded. “Yes. I was just wondering…well.” He folded his hands on his lap, and I felt it. A change in his attitude. A second before he had been interested, perhaps even eager. Now, there was an air detachment to him.

  Perfect. If he had any interest in me at all, I just told him to forget it, because I wasn’t going to be dating anyone anytime soon. Was it too late? Could I summon the nerve and just open my mouth and take the chance?

  The moment had passed, but I had to get us back on some sort of track. Anything that would get us together, away from the house and away from Steve. Luckily, we had the love of old junk in common. “So, about the house. I’d love to find crystal doorknobs. Those old-fashioned kind? And maybe some leaded or stained glass to put in the bathroom window for privacy. And I really want a headboard for my bed, something really cool…maybe craftsman? I love that style.”

  His expression brightened. “I know just the place for that kind of stuff. Just n
orth here, not far. You could drive up some weekend.”

  I took a mental deep breath and took the step. “Why don’t you come with me? I’d probably come home with a carload of all the wrong sizes.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Sure. Busy this Saturday?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. My big plan was cutting the grass.”

  “Well, we can head on up Onancock and take a look around.”

  Gotcha. “Really? Thanks. That would be great.”

  He pushed his coffee mug to the center of the table. “Well, Chris, this was nice, and it looks like we’ve got a hot shopping expedition to look forward to. But right now I’ve got to go and try to fix a roof that is literally hanging by a thread, and the client doesn’t understand that an estimate is just that, and not anything written in stone. Wish me luck.”

  I waved. “Luck,” I said, and watched his and Joe walk down toward the water.

  Damn him anyway. I was pretty sure that maybe, just maybe he was exactly the kind of man for me.

  And I had pretty much just told him I was not looking for any kind of man at all.

  I spent all day filling little dents with goopy white stuff, then smoothing with the side of a tool that looked like a very short-handled pancake flipper.

  The dents were caused by the drywall screws anchoring the drywall to the two-by-fours that were the walls to my house. Apparently, you needed about six thousand screws per sheet of drywall. Okay, maybe not that many, but it sure seemed like that many. The seams between the sheets of drywall also had to be filled and smoothed, but it was obvious that my skill set was nowhere near where it needed to be for that particular task. So I stuck the corner of my flipper into the mud, filled the dent, turned the flipper over, and applied enough pressure to remove all the goop except just the amount needed to create a smooth surface.

  I did not wear my old clothes, didn’t cover my hair, and didn’t wear my work boots. So at the end of the day there were flecks of white all over my nice cotton shorts—and my legs—as well as in my hair, on my arms, and down the front of my T-shirt. Don’t ask. I also stubbed eight out of ten toes against various bits of lumber, various ladders, large buckets of mud…

  Right about the time I was ready to throw my spackle knife into Tyler’s grinning face, Steve showed up, did a quick walk-through, then stopped in front of me, smiling.

  “Chris, I have to say, you’ve surprised me here. Lots of homeowners say they want to do and learn, but you’re about the first I’ve met who’s actually shown up and done all the work. Why don’t we go out and get a nice cold drink? You look like you could use a little de-stressing.”

  First of all, what I probably looked like was a hot mess in need of a steam cleaning, not a cold drink. And this was absolutely him asking me out. I thought we’d gotten over that, but apparently not.

  “Thanks, Steve, but look at me. I need hosed off.”

  He laughed. “I’ll grant you that. How about I meet you then? Later sometime tonight?”

  Oh, why was he such a nice man? And so good looking? And why was he not interested in Terri? And what was he going to tell his brother this time?

  I shook my head. “I’m already all aches and pains. And I’m not used to this—I’ll probably be asleep by seven thirty. Besides,” I said, knowing he’d hear about it anyway, “I have to get up pretty early tomorrow. Mike and I are on a doorknob hunt.”

  He made a face. “Yeah that sounds about right for Mike. He loves all that junk. Okay, but maybe next time?”

  What was I supposed to say? I shook my head. “I don’t think so, Steve. Like I said, I’m just trying to get my feet under me, and…”

  He held up a hand. “Yes. I know. Sorry.” He looked at me. “Didn’t mean to push. I just think you’re an interesting and attractive woman, Chris. That’s all.”

  I knew I was blushing and was grateful for the coating of drywall dust that covered my skin. “And I’m flattered. Really.”

  He nodded, as though to himself, then flashed a smile. “Have a good weekend. I hope you find your doorknobs.”

  I watched him go with a sinking heart. Perfect. Next time he and Mike got together over a beer, Steve would be sure to tell him how I still wasn’t ready to be dating anyone, Mike would probably slap him on the back in sympathy, and take one giant step further away from me.

  Unless I could do something tomorrow to change his mind.

  Needless to say, I completely blew off all Friday night activities and soaked in a tub for almost an hour before falling asleep on the couch, my head still wrapped in a towel, by eight thirty.

  Terri was nice enough to help me to bed when she came in from the pier.

  When I woke up, muscles I never knew I had were screaming at me, asking what the hell was I doing to them after fifty years of devoted service, and begging, please, don’t ever do it again.

  “I swear, all I did was stand and spackle,” I muttered to Terri as I washed down Aleve with very sweet coffee.

  “And when was the last time you did that?” she asked, arching her eyebrows over the rim of her mug.

  “Never,” I muttered. “Just you wait till you spend your vacation over there. I’m betting you’ll be hurting. God, when did we get old?”

  “This has nothing to do with age,” she said with conviction. “It has everything to do with your body being completely not used to manual labor. If you’d been alive two hundred years ago and spent all your days hauling wood and washing clothes in a river, you wouldn’t feel a twinge.”

  “If I’d been alive two hundred years ago,” I muttered, “I know I would have been one of those people the settlers would have happily traded to the Indians. Hauling wood my ass.”

  She burst out laughing. “I have to breakfast. Enjoy your day.”

  “I will. And tell all the ladies I said hello, and one of these Saturdays I’m going to join you.”

  She trotted out, and I finished my cereal, drank more coffee, and waited until the Aleve started to work, then got dressed and ready to meet Mike.

  He picked me up in a two-seater, a tiny convertible sports car that looked like it belonged in a 1960s spy movie. I stood at the curb and stared. I never would have imagined him with a car quite like this.

  He waved me in. “Don’t look shocked. I’m a man of many facets.”

  Obviously. “What kind of car is this?” I asked as I buckled myself in.

  “Austin-Healey Sprite,” he said. “My baby.”

  “I can’t help but notice there’s no back seat or trunk space. If we want to buy something, there’s no way to get it home.”

  He grinned. “Exactly.”

  I had to hold my hat on my head the whole drive up, but it was worth it to feel the breeze on my face. Driving in a top-down convertible wasn’t very conducive to conversation. After a few attempts of shouting over the road noise, I just sighed happily and looked at the scenery. We arrived in Onancock just before noon, and Mike parked on a side street.

  “Eat then walk?” He asked.

  I nodded. “Mike, if you spend any time with me at all, you’ll know that if there’s a choice between eating and anything else, eating comes first.”

  He took me to a building right on the water that had been a general store, and I ate crab and scallops and sweet tea, and then we walked around town, stopping in a few art galleries before arriving at the antique market, which proved pleasant enough, and fairly safe, until we walked all the way through and came across a treasure trove of architectural salvage pieces. I looked, mouth open, and sighed happily.

  “Mike, would you look at all this stuff?”

  He was grinning. “I had a feeling this would be the place for you. Remember, we can’t bring anything home bigger than hinges or maybe a doorknob or two.”

  Actually, we brought home enough doorknobs for the entire house, as well as hooks to hang bathroom towels, a rectangular piece of ironwork to hang from the ceiling on the porch, and hinges for the new screen door. We did not find any stained glass,
and he did manage to talk me out of a few items.

  “Chris, I know this mantle is beautiful, but you don’t have a fireplace.”

  “I know, but I could use it as a headboard in the guest room.”

  “Another big-city-designer idea?”

  “Stop that. It’s a very common design idea and you know it. And how about this?”

  “It’s a milk separator. You planning on making cheese?”

  “But it’s so cool…”

  The man saved me a fortune. But looking around at all the things that wouldn’t work for my house, I started thinking about what I could do if I did renovate another house. Hmm.

  On the way back we stopped at Eyre Hall, one of my favorite places in the world, and we walked through the late afternoon sun to the creek, then sat, perfectly and happily quiet. I could hear other people in the gardens, and the sound of their voices mixed with the chirping of the birds and the quiet song of the water.

  “This was a good day,” he said at last.

  “Yes, it was.” We were not touching. We weren’t even sitting that close, but I had never felt so aware of a man’s body before. He was leaning forward, his forearms resting on his thighs, hands clasped. I could see glints of silver and gray among the dark brown hairs on his arms and the fabric of his knit shirt stretched across his shoulders. I was thinking that I could just run my fingers lightly across the top of his shoulders, and down the center of his broad back…