I wrote a B on the top of a student’s paper with my favorite red pen. I did love my red pen, I had to admit. I loved teaching English, too. Basically, it was a way for me to perpetually geek out over great literature. Sometimes, the kids didn’t fully appreciate the talent or skill of Dickens, for example. They said there were too many words.
Dickens might have written for the people and to support his family, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t great. So what if he wrote in extra detail because he was paid by the word? People had a lot less to do back then. There was no TikTok or Snapchat. My students would have been grateful for a long, character-driven story like Great Expectations without the distraction of their screens 24-7.
I’d saved my best student’s essay for last, knowing it would give me a boost. Some of the others had had the opposite effect. The assignment had been to compare and contrast Dickens’s Great Expectations with Kafka’s Metamorphosis. Yes, it was a hard assignment. And no, nobody reads existential literature for the pure joy of it. I felt strongly that this kind of critical thinking was important, especially in today’s world of unreliable news and social media.
Matilda’s essay didn’t disappoint. I gave her an A and stuck her paper on top of the others. She was captain of the cheer team as well as my best literature student. Polite and bubbly, a student like her was a teacher’s dream, but I also enjoyed reaching the kids others had given up on. I could feel them struggling to overcome whatever it was that made them avoid eye contact from the back row.
My second love was carpentry. I’d been able to make a little money building decks or doing light remodel jobs for friends. I’d recently put an ad out in the newspaper offering handyman and carpentry skills with hours in the late afternoon and weekend.
I hoped someone would call sooner rather than later. My car was making a strange noise, and I figured it wasn’t long for this world. I sighed and began straightening up my classroom. Instead of a blackboard, I used a an interactive board while I gave my lectures. After I’d shut it off for the day, I wiped the plastic clean and tucked the whole thing into a corner of the room.
I’d just packed up my leather briefcase, a gift from a professor after I completed my Ph.D., when my cell phone rang. A quick glance told me it was Breck. He probably wanted to get together for a boys’ night of beer and pizza. I hoped so, anyway. I’d barely seen him since he returned from his honeymoon.
I picked it up on the second ring. “Hey, how’s it going?” I asked.
“Good, good. No complaints.” He had a slow way of talking that always made me want to close my eyes and take a nap. This was why he was so good with animals; he lulled them into a state of relaxation. “I have a lead for you on a carpentry job. You have room in your schedule?”
“Sure. As a matter of fact, a gig would come in really handy about now. Who’s it for?” This wasn’t a big town, and highly likely I would know the person in need of a carpenter.
“It’s for Jamie. Out at the inn,” he added, as if I needed more explanation. I was quite familiar with Jamie, I wanted to say but didn’t. Every inch of her. I rubbed my eyes, the image of her wearing nothing but a pair of silky panties played before me. Ever since that night in Cliffside Bay, I hadn’t been able to forget what she looked or felt like. Imagine my surprise when she showed up in Emerson Pass. Once I heard about the old mansion she bought to make into an inn, though, it all made sense. She’d told me about her dream during the night I’d spent with her. The hottest night of my life.
However, she’d made it obvious she wasn’t interested in anything serious, and I’d stayed away from her as much as one could in a town this size. My friends were her friends, and the group had only gotten tighter over the last year. It hadn’t been easy to resist making an embarrassing move on her. I knew where it would lead, however, so I acted cool around her. After what had happened with my girlfriend, right in front of Jamie, no less, I wasn’t about to put myself out there to be publicly humiliated.
I squeezed my eyes shut at the memory of that mortifying night. I’d had a ring ready in the kitchen of the brewery back in Cliffside Bay. They’d had the ring and were going to bring it out buried in the dessert. Sadly, I was dumped before I could propose. Jamie had been waitressing that night, and she saw it all go down. When I ran into her later, we started talking and one thing led to another, as they always do in this kind of situation. We’d agreed to one night only and no contact ever again. What we didn’t know? In six months’ time, we’d both arrive in Emerson Pass.
“Is everything all right out there?” I hoped it wasn’t a leak or electrical issue. She’d had a grand reopening last spring, with an invitation to all her friends, including me, for wine and cheese the night before the opening weekend. She’d wanted to thank everyone for their support. After the fire had demolished her dream, it had been hard to try again. But boy had she. I had to admire her for it, too. She did the proverbial brushing herself off and getting right back to work. A year later, she had a brand-new inn, even better than the one that had burned to the ground. Every time I drove past the pretty white building down on the old river road, I smiled.
“Yes, everything’s good there,” Breck said in answer to my question. “But she needs a gazebo built for a wedding and needs it done yesterday.” I heard Tiffany’s voice in the background. “Right, yeah. Tiff says the woman’s paying for the whole thing plus giving Jamie a chunk of change to get it done in time for her wedding.”
“When’s that?” I asked.
“Three weeks from tomorrow.”
“Oh, that doesn’t give me much time. I mean, if I were to accept the job. Why didn’t she call me herself?”
“Well, um, I thought I’d run it past you first,” Breck said. “In case it felt awkward for you.”
“Nah, we’re good. You saw us the other night.”
“Yeah. I did. Tiff noticed, too,” Breck said.
“Noticed what?” That had me curious. Maybe they saw something I couldn’t?
“That you two seemed close.”
“Well, if by close you mean I embarrassed myself by staring longingly into her eyes, then yes.”
He laughed. “Maybe she digs you but is too shy to let you know.”
“She’s not shy.” I got hot under the collar just thinking about how bold and uninhibited she’d been. I’d forgotten all about my ex-girlfriend during the hours we spent together.
“Regardless, why don’t you call and see what she needs? Or pop down the hall?”
I was getting the distinct impression that this was about more than just building a gazebo. Were our friends trying to push us together? Married people always thought everyone else should be married too.
“Yeah, I guess I could do that,” I said. “But don’t get your hopes up if you’re trying to get us together.”
“No, sure, I understand. It would be a job, that’s all. One that pays well. You said you need a new car.”
“True enough.” I didn’t think my old Honda would make it through the winter. She didn’t seem to like the cold. “I’ll go out there. Worst case, she says no.” Even as I said it, I inwardly cringed. The words she says no brought me right back to the humiliation of my botched proposal.
“Good. Also, we’re thinking of having people out to the house this weekend. My mom’s house, that is.” Tiffany and Breck were still living at his mother’s house while theirs was being built.
“How’s your house coming along?” I asked.
“Slow. We’re still waiting on countertops and cabinets.”
“Those are always slow but especially right now.”
“Anyway,” Breck said, “give her a call.”
“I will. Thanks for the heads-up.”
We hung up, and I stared down at my phone. Should I call her? Would it be too awkward? Maybe she’d already found someone. If she’d wanted to hire me, she could have called. All our friends knew I was looking for simple carpentry or handyman work.
“Whatever,” I muttered under my breath. I would call and ask her if she still needed someone. I was making too much of this.
She picked up right away. My heart sped up at the sound of her pretty voice. “Hello?”
“This is Darby.”
Silence for a few seconds, as if she were trying to place who I was. “Yeah, what’s up?”
“Breck called and told me about your project.”
“He did?” Her voice went up in pitch. “That was presumptuous of him.”
Presumptuous? Weird word to use. “You have someone, then?”
Another hesitation before she answered. “No, I don’t. I was going to call you to see if you were interested but then couldn’t decide if that was a good idea.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, me too. But we’re good, right?”
“I mean, I did nurse you back to health the other day,” Jamie said.
“You basically saved my life. Which means I owe you.”
“Do you think you could do it so fast? This woman is fixated on a certain date. There was no budging her.”
“I’ve built a couple of gazebos before. It shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Really?”
“I mean, if you’re interested.” I told her my hourly rate and then held my breath. “No pressure. I could use the work, but I don’t want you to feel weird.”
She paused to take a quick breath. I could hear her inhale even over the phone and it made me remember her breathing the night we were together. Never mind, I told myself. “Yes, can you come by the inn now?”
“I’m about to head home, so yes, no problem.”
I hung up and dropped the phone into the pocket of my khakis. Was this a mistake? Probably, but what the heck? I had nothing to lose. She’d already made it clear she wasn’t interested. We were friends, that’s all. I’d be there to get a job done and that would be that. Simple. “Don’t get your hopes up, buddy,” I said under my breath.
* * *
The early-autumn sun felt good on my shoulders as I walked toward the entrance of the inn. The landscaping in the front was simple but elegant with neatly kept grass and shrubs. Painted white, with modest columns in the Georgian style, the inn seemed perfect to me.
Maisy was at the front desk. I’d had her youngest child, Holly, the year before in my senior English class. She’d been a delightful student and had just left for her first year at college.
“Maisy, are you working here now?”
“Just started.” She beamed at me. “What do you think? Do I seem like a career woman now?”
“Your kids must be proud of you,” I said.
She grinned and tucked her hair behind her ears, giving her a youthful, puckish appearance. “They’re too worried about themselves to even think about me. As it should be, of course. But it’s nice to have a job of my own and a reprieve from my taxi duties.”
“I can imagine. I’m here to talk to Jamie about a project.”
“Are you still paying off those student loans?” Maisy asked. “Is that why you’re taking on more work than you already have?” She had slipped into her mother voice with me. I wasn’t that much older than her children, so it was understandable. Maisy was a great mother to her own and others. Strays like me, I thought with a pang. There were moments I missed my mother as fiercely as I had when I first lost her. They came in sudden waves like this.
“Yes, I’m afraid so,” I said, composing myself. “And there’s something wrong with my car.”
Her brow creased with worry. “Oh dear. I wish there was something I could do to help.”
“You raised wonderful children,” I said. “Your debt to society is paid.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Holly’s already pledged to a sorority, if you can believe it.”
I could. She had been a popular student, pretty and athletic. “I hope she’ll be careful.”
“Me too. I shudder to think about the parties.”
“She’ll be fine,” I said, immediately sorry I’d brought up the dangers. That was not what a mother who had just sent her baby off to college wanted to think about.
“Anyway, off you go. Knock her dead.” Maisy waved me toward Jamie’s office. “And don’t be afraid to ask for what you’re worth. The client’s covering all the costs.” She pointed to her hand. “Big rock. Don’t undercut yourself. ”
I laughed despite my inward caving of spirit at the word worth. “Will do.” I waggled my fingers at her and headed toward the open office door.
Jamie sat behind a modest but pretty vintage cherry wood desk working on a laptop, her slender, manicured fingers clicking above the keys. Her dark blond hair, streaked with golden highlights, was pulled into a high bun with only a few strands left to dangle near her high cheekbones. Between that and the crisp white blouse, she presented a different image than her sporty running look from the other night. Both looked good on her. Darn it anyway. Why did she have to be so pretty? None of that mattered, I reminded myself. This was a job. One that would save my proverbial bacon at the moment.
She looked up and smiled. “Hey, Darby. Thanks for coming by.” Formal. Businesslike. Okay, I could match that.
“Not a problem.”
“It’s probably best if we go out to the back gardens and talk about what’s possible.” She picked up a square photograph from her desk and handed it to me. The color had faded and the corners lifted slightly from years of being stored away somewhere, but I could see right away that it was a standard gazebo with eight posts and a shingled roof. “She wants it to look like this.”
All hope for the job and all that lovely money vanished. “Yeah, so this is totally standard. You could buy a kit and put it together in no time. I can do it for you, but honestly, almost anyone could put it together.” This would be so easy I could probably do it in a day.
She tilted her head, looking at me. “She wants it exactly like the old one. No kits. She said that specifically.”
No kits. This woman must have way too much money. “Okay, that’s a little weird. She knows it’ll cost more this way?”
“Yes, apparently. And then there’s the rosebushes. I told her those were impossible.”
I nodded. “I could plant some but they wouldn’t be blooming. If you want them, though, I’m happy to do it for you.” I’d never actually planted roses, but I’m sure I could do it. I’d worry about that later. For now, I wanted to see the outside, do some measurements, and put a quote together.
She gestured toward the door. “Let’s do it.”
I’d like to.
Putting aside my filthy thoughts, I followed her out of her office, doing my best to keep my gaze from drifting to her shapely hips in those clingy slacks. This might prove to be a long job for more reasons than a simple gazebo. Keeping my thoughts from straying toward Jamie would not be easy.