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ELIZABETH
I'm an early riser by habit, certainly not by choice. Every time I would do sleepovers with Alex when we were growing up, she always threw pillows at me because I was awake when the sun rose.
Being in the loft of the huge home put me right in view of the sun as it crested from the East.
I lay awake trying to figure out just what I was supposed to do. I was horribly attracted to my husband who didn't want to be married and who was chained to a home with more personality than most of the people in my home town.
There wasn’t much I could do without my tools. The last text I had received the night before indicated the trucks would be at the house in a day or two.
Absent tools didn't mean I was completely stuck though. I had money from closing my business and for the last six to seven months I’d stockpiled as much in my savings as I could. I’d decided to move to California – I had to keep reminding myself it was my decision. Good or bad I was sticking there. If I could get a business going, then it would be my new home.
Judging by the state of the neighborhood, there was some work to be had and I had a lot of experience.
All I needed to do was to find some people to spread the word.
I was going with The House Doctor. I couldn’t wait to get it going. Hopefully, no one else had taken that name already.
I yawned, rubbing my eyes. I was tired but I wouldn't go back to sleep. My fatigue wouldn’t be escapable anyway. I didn’t know what I was doing and I wasn’t settled. What was I doing? I was stuck in the clothes I’d traveled in and I had really no way to make myself at home.
It was hard to feel like you fit in when you weren’t really welcome.
And you knew it.
Through my cracked window, the rumble of the Mustang’s engine starting up jolted me to the side. I leapt from the bed and peered out the window.
Ty pulled away from the curb. He hadn’t said goodbye or anything on my first morning there.
I turned around, deflated. How could I convince him to give us a shot, if he wasn't even going to stay around?
Alex had done the whole roommate thing. I wasn’t interested. I wanted to skip all the dating stuff, but that didn't mean I had to sit there and wait around for some guy either. I wasn't the waiting type.
What did that mean I could do? He said I could have the garage. I was going to go out there and see what it offered. No reason to waste time sitting around waiting for my husband to pay attention to me.
After I took another shower and ate a cold piece of pizza from the night before, I made my way out to the garage.
The cobbled driveway was riddled with cracks like the mortar had given up the fight and left behind the small rocks.
Tucking behind the house like an alley, the driveway domineered the side road with little room for anyone to pass by. The Manning house had more property than most of the rest of the houses on the block. The garage hid partially under a large collection of lilac bushes and oak trees. Other fences abutted the sides of the rear of the garage. If I strained on tiptoe, I could get a good look into the neighbors’ backyards.
Tyler hadn't said there was a lock or anything on the doors. I took the chance he didn't keep anything in there because he couldn’t use it so he wouldn’t care if it was locked or not. Twisting the doorknob, I squeezed my eyes shut and pushed open the door. It opened effortlessly with a slight squeak.
I gasped at the light spilling through the glass panes of the garage doors and what it revealed.
It wasn't clean, by any standards. A fine layer of dirt and grime lay on every surface I could see and most likely the surfaces I couldn't.
I walked in the man door which opened to the side against the wall. To the right and spread out in front of me was the most unique style garage I had ever seen. It was like it was designed for a woodworker or someone who only wanted to use their tools and could care less if there was room for any vehicles.
With minimal room to park a car, unless it was on the other side of the of the tool workbench, the garage deserved the title of shop more than garage. A counter-space four-and-a-half to five deep ran the length of the wall. Underneath each counter, drawers and other types of shelving waited for tools and storage.
Above the counters, while not cutting into the workspace on the surface, there were shelves and different types of canisters hanging from various cabinets across the way as well.
I don't think I could count all the electrical outlets in less than a minute – maybe ten minutes – and there were a few 220s in place as well. My welder would go perfect in that section. I could envision all of my electrical tools lined up in specific spots and my two tool boxes, red and blue, my crowning glories right in the center back to back for easy access.
I stood in the center of the dirty garage and had chills. The guy may not have been picked just right for me, but it was like Colin Davies had seen the garage and said, “I know Elizabeth needs this garage.”
I suddenly didn’t mind about my problems with Tyler. If he wanted to use me to satisfy some bet, that was fine. I was going to use him to use that gorgeous garage. I snapped some pictures of the inside and texted it to Alex with a comment, “Look what ClickandWed gave me!”
This could be the perfect home for me. I was suddenly filled with the jubilation Alex had mentioned when she was excited to see the business potential up there. I could do this. I didn't need Tyler to know what was going on. He wasn't interested anyway, no matter how much I wanted him to be.
I needed the garage doors opened, if I wanted the moving company to be able to unload my stuff. No matter how hard I tried, I would never fit my chop saw table through the man door.
Even as an oversized three-car garage, the space would be a tight fit for all of my tools. I didn't have many furnishings to worry about to store, so fitting the tools wouldn’t be a problem at least once I got them organized.
Until the movers got there, I had to do some serious cleaning and some serious repairing.
Unwilling to wait, I pulled out the drawers, looking for something, anything I could use as a tool. The rattle in a drawer when I pulled the one above it open gave me a spark of hope in my chest similar to the vibration I got when I’d seen Tyler for the first time.
Best not to think about that.
Could there be something in the drawer?
I pulled it open and revealed a flat head screwdriver and a rusted hammer jolted around inside.
The inferior tools weren't much, but I had done more with just one fork then I hoped to do with just a screwdriver and hammer. I pulled out the hammer and tucked the handle into the loop on my pants. I never knew when I could use a hammer. What I wouldn't give for a ladder though.
My phone buzzed and I pulled it out, swiping at the heart that appeared like a cold sore, plaguing me incessantly. “What do you want?” I muttered as I tried to figure out how to move around in the app.
A red text box invited me to set up for the first “step” with my husband. We were supposed to take some kind of questionnaire.
I pushed the home button on my phone and then messaged Alex. “Did you do these quirky steps that CnW keeps sending me?” Okay, it had only been one time, but I was getting annoyed by their constant contact.
Why couldn’t they just leave me alone? They were like a thorn and continually reminded me of what I wasn’t having with my husband.
A banging echoed from outside. I looked up from my phone for a minute and listened. Of course, it sounded like an amateur who didn't really know what they were doing. Rubber on metal. They were probably banging some kind of a hinge or piece to a fence.
I could count on my hands and feet the number of times I had rescued people from breaking hinges because they didn't know what they were doing.
Ducking out the door, I searched for the source of the noise.
The man who had woken me, Ty’s neighbor, wielded a mallet of some kind and hit it on the hinge of his gate, like I had thought.
“Hey, I wouldn't do that. Those are solid hinges. What's going on?” I approached cautiously with a screwdriver in my hand like maybe he was crazy and was going to turn on me next.
“Oh, the wife. How are you? I'm just trying to get this gate open. It sticks all the time. So I decided I'm going to beat it into submission.” He grinned but squinted at me with the seriousness of a man who’d had enough.
“May I?” I motioned toward the gate and waited for him to back off while I looked at the handle. “You don’t need to hit it, all we need is to adjust this right here...” I screwed in the two screws that had come loose and straightened the latch on the door frame, squeezing the handle again. “There you go. That should work just fine.”
“How did you know to do that?” The neighbor opened and closed the gate a few times, his eyebrows lifted in surprise. The bushes peaking over the side of the fence were raspberry plants upon closer inspection.
I smiled. “I'm a handy person. That's what I do. I can fix just about anything.” I held out the rusty screwdriver and tapped the edge of the handle of the less-than-desirable hammer. “When I have acceptable tools. You wouldn't happen to have a Phillips screwdriver by chance? And, maybe a ladder?”
“Sure, let me go grab those. I'll be right back.” Before I could even thank him for considering, he ducked into a small tool shed about five to eight feet away.
He returned, lugging a small step ladder and a little red toolbox.
It was possible he could have been giving me a box of candy with how excited I was to see that toolbox.
He set the toolbox down and held out his hand. “I am Ronald Phelan.”
I grasped his hand and shook it firmly. “Thank you so much. I’m—”
“Manning. Right?” He grinned, his black hair shiny in the sunlight.
“Lizzie. Let's just go with Lizzie for now. I don't think Tyler really wants to be married, just like you said.” I laughed and pointed at the hinges. “Do you mind if I just grease them a little? It doesn't take long and will definitely improve their performance.”
“Thank you, that would be great.” He dug through the small toolbox and pulled out a small canister of grease, handing it to me like he had no idea what it was.
I fixed his gate so it didn't squeak and closed the toolbox regretfully. I wished I could keep it, at least until mine arrived. I would just have to wait for mine and make do with the two pieces of rusted metal Ty left in the garage.
“Thank you. I appreciate you getting it for me.” I looked longingly at the box.
He pushed it toward me. “Go ahead and borrow them. Did you say you needed the ladder?”
I’d forgotten my request and was suddenly grateful that I’d asked. That close to tools and then to have them taken away would’ve pushed my patience for my circumstances. “Thank you, I did. Can I bring them back in a little bit?”
“I'll be back after seven tonight so any time after that is fine.” He scratched his nose and nodded, a shock of shiny black hair falling across his forehead. He reminded me of a kid with his lanky build and optimistic expressions.
We parted ways and disappeared back into the garage. With the tools he had in the box, I could do more than just fix the garage door. I climbed the ladder and went to work.
After just a few minutes, I had the garage door opening and closing manually. Someone had unplugged the garage door openers and I reconnected them. Everything worked fine. I rolled my eyes at people's incompetence.
There were a few things in the house that were driving me crazy and I couldn't help but spend the rest of the day cleaning and fixing anything I came in contact with. For instance the loose balcony connections were driving me nuts. There had to be some kind of a safety ordinance or law that was being broken with those just being like they were. The loose hinges on the front door and most of the doors in the house fell under my tools.
The leaking faucet in the kitchen took me less than two seconds to fix and the kitchen itself needed to be cleaned. I was on a roll and my motivation only fed on my productivity.
Close to six o'clock and I had gotten so much done. The garage was clean and ready for my tools and the garage doors worked like brand-new.
I needed a shower after my busy day. Most likely I didn’t smell the best. Was there any chance my clothes would get clean, if I took a shower? I wondered how long it would take my clothes to get clean in the washing machine and dryer downstairs.
Would I take the chance of running around naked in a house I wasn't welcome? Just the thought almost had me laughing out loud.
Hmmm. Maybe I could just take a shower and wash my clothes with me. If I wringed them out as best I could, I could maybe wear them damp. It wouldn’t be comfortable but if nothing else it would be clean.
I opted to try it. The bar soap was going to work on more than just me.
Finger brushing my teeth was not doing it for me either, but what could I do? Go up and steal Ty’s toothbrush? Which probably wasn’t the best way to be trusted in the house.
After my shower and in my damp clothes that honestly didn't feel too bad, I made my way back down to the kitchen. It was almost seven and I was starving. I was sick of pizza. There was nothing else to be had. Even the Golden Grahams weren’t more than crumbs.
I grabbed a piece of pizza anyway.
The lights went on at Ronald's house, the sign I was waiting for to take him his tools.
Down at the fence, I met him where he’d stopped by his raspberries to pick from the plant. I held out the red box set it on the ground by his feet and retrieved the ladder. “Thank you so much. I really needed that. It was almost like a therapy session.” I grinned, happier then I’d been since I left Arkansas.
“You're welcome. Did you want some dinner?” The look in his eye hadn’t been there the night before. I wasn’t imagining his interest. I wasn’t interested and he was which made things very uncomfortable.
Not to mention I was newly married. “Well, I did just get married, even though it was to a guy who isn't really interested. It's a little early for me to commit adultery.” I laughed but I said it firmly enough that I think he got the point. I hoped he got the point. So far he was my only friend and I didn’t need to lose him this early in the game.
He tilted his head and smiled. “Let me know if you change her mind.”
I smiled and returned to the house. Closing the door behind me, I leaned against the hard oak panel and rubbed my head. I wouldn't have minded any kind of food just not pizza.
Ty's voice cut across my silence. “Making friends?” He stood by the kitchen sink, with a glass of water in his hand and in a position that suggested he'd been watching out the window.
I pushed away from the door and jerked my thumb over my shoulder while running my hand through my long brown hair. “Yeah, he just—”
Ty held up his hand, stopping me. “No, it's fine. We aren't really married. Do what you need to do to pass the time.”
I stepped forward and braced my hands on the counter. “Then let's just cut our losses now. I mean, you're not interested. I could be doing something more with my time and you obviously don't want me here.” Hurt and disappointment smothered my happiness at my productivity for the day. I barely knew Tyler and his rejection burned more than I wanted it to.
“It has nothing to do with not wanting you here, Elizabeth. All it means is I can’t fit you in my life. I feel bad I came across disinterested last night or even uncaring. I have a tendency to only think about myself sometimes when I have a specific goal in mind. I know it's a fault and nothing against you. It's nothing personal. It's just how it is. It's just easier.” He turned to lean a hip against the counter and crossed his arms.
“I don't have two-thousand dollars to pay you right now. I don't want to lose my deposit either, especially if it turns out I'm more detrimental to my business being me.” His sardonic smile hinted at more than just humor.
“I'm sorry. I know how hard that is, always worrying about your company.” I understood more than he knew. I had been so worried the first two years of running mine I was going to lose it. “Don't you have a manager?” That had been my issue. I didn't have a manager.
“Yeah, I'm the manager. But I don't fit with the brand and people don't trust us. We go in and take over companies, restructure them, and when we’re pushing the important of family and keeping people in their roles, it’s hard for them to believe us because I don’t have a family. I’m awesome at being a manager, with the profits and losses, hiring and firing, and I can get accounts like you wouldn't believe. The brand, though, it’s more important than you think. Unfortunately, I let the brand consume the business and now I am a counterproductive piece of the puzzle.”
“Can you sell it?” That's what I had done with mine. I didn't say it, but I sold mine even though I knew the new owners would run it into the ground in no time. I had to separate my personal attachment from the business.
He tilted his head, considering me. “I honestly hadn't considered selling it.”
“You might consider it before the brand eats up too much of your profit margin and you can’t get what you deserve for it. That way you can come out ahead. The new owners can sink or swim. You never know, there might be another brand out there waiting for you.” I hated being the overly hopeful person. Sometimes too much optimism was annoying.
I was too easily swayed by the love it or leave it idea.
“Thanks, you gave me something to think about. Have you had anything to eat yet?” He stepped back and revealed grocery bags behind him, probably ten. Hopefully, they were filled with food.
“I haven’t eaten anything other than pizza. I feel it’s only fair to give you a heads up that... I don't cook. Like seriously, I don't cook.” I didn't mean to be so blunt but we would starve, if he expected me to cook anything in the kitchen.
His chuckle sent a delicious shiver down my spine. “Don't worry, I do cook and well. I just rarely have a reason to cook.” He smiled softly at me and pulled off his suit jacket, revealing a broad chest and a well-fitted dress shirt. Rolling up the shirtsleeves of his white shirt, he twisted his arms and dark blond hair dusting his arms reflected the sunlight streaming through the windows.
What type of a wife was more interested in what was underneath his shirt then what he was saying? The kind that was attracted to her husband.
He flung his tie over his shoulder to keep it out of the way and smiled at me. “I’m going to teach you how to make my famous goulash. Hopefully, you're not allergic to burger or potatoes or onions. Because that's pretty much all that’s in it, and it's delicious.” He pulled out a bag of potatoes and eyed me suspiciously. “You know how to wield a knife though, right? Or a potato peeler?”
I laughed. “Yes, but there are no utensils in this whole kitchen.”
“Oh, yeah, they’re in the pantry. We were trying to sell this place for a while but can't get it to sell.” He moved to the pantry and pulled open the door. Inside numerous bins had been stacked on top of each other, but I hadn't noticed them when I was digging through the drawers and closets.
“You’re not going to be able to sell this place. Not like it is. You need some serious renovations.” Even if he did them, why would he sell this place? I could tell it was a landmark, or should be, it was so gorgeous. If he took care of it, the home could probably be registered as a historic place.
I didn't mention what I'd done that day. He would notice or he wouldn't. It didn't matter to me. I knew what I had accomplished and I was satisfied.
“Yeah, it's turning out to be a bigger pain than I thought. Sorry you have to be shackled to it, too.” He offered me a side smile that was more apologetic than flirtatious. But either way, I would take a smile from him. Was it sad that I just wanted to smile at him all night? I had a feeling that our time was short.
“I’m not sorry.” Would he hear the invitation in my voice? The need to connect in some way to the man I had married? He wasn’t interested because of his business. I was second to his company.
My phone double-buzzed in the annoying pattern I was growing to despise. I pulled the cell from my pocket. “Do you get these annoying reminders to do the Steps together? There’s a questionnaire we’re supposed to do. Would you be able to sit with me and do it so the thing will leave me alone?” I felt stupid asking, but I’d reached a point of desperation.
He screwed his lips to the side and squinted. “Yeah, sorry, I have work to do. Maybe we can try tomorrow.” His expression all but screamed not in this lifetime.
Tyler couldn’t even take a few minutes to do the questions with me because of his job.
I wasn't a fan of being second.
