*“Okay, I’m sorry,” Brant said as he pushed his hat back. “I should never had said that things were going smoothly.”
Stevie propped a mittened hand on her hip as she surveyed the ice that had formed over close to half of the machine shed floor. The standpipe just outside the building had frozen and broken during the night, flooding the shed.
“I made that thing up about wedding karma,” she murmured.
“Guess this’ll teach you,” Brant said.
She glanced toward the open door. “Milt’s here.”
“Good. We could use some backup.”
Brant turned back to the icy interior of the shed as Stevie stepped out to wave Milt to the machine shop. When she stepped back inside, she said. “Better now than the day before the wedding.”
“Don’t jinx us.” He was only half kidding.
She sent him a look that made him laugh, even though wasn’t exactly a laughing situation.
Such a difference from yesterday, making him glad that he’d taken a chance and dropped by her place the night before. His common sense had shouted at him not to be stupid, but he’d ignored common sense, and had stopped because he’d wanted to talk; to let Stevie know what was going on in his life in real time. She was the only person he’d thought about telling.
Milt came to the open door, then made a show of stumbling backward in shock.
“Holy moly, what did you do?” he asked Brant.
“I trusted a standpipe that had never frozen before.”
“Huh.” He stepped inside, scratching his head as he looked over the damage. “Okay. Well, let’s get the propane heaters going. We’ll need more than this one.” He shot Brant a quick look. “I take it you have more in the barn?”
“We do.”
“We’ll have to work in the cold there until we get this melted and mopped up.” He turned to Stevie. “Brant told me that you’re going to have the guests in here, out of the weather during the ceremony?”
“Unless it’s a soggy mess. Then everyone will take their chances outside.”
“Well, let’s go get those heaters.” Milt strode back out the door and Stevie gave Brant an amused look.
“Once a shop foreman, always a shop foreman.”
“He reminds me of my dad,” she said.
“Just one thing,” Brant added in a low voice as they followed Milt across the driveway to the barn. “He works fast, and sometimes he doesn’t work carefully. If he climbs a ladder, hold the bottom for him.”
“Voice of experience?”
“Yep.” They were almost to the barn door when Brant said, “By the way, I called Raj this morning. Told him I wasn’t interested.”
“I’m glad,” she said.
“Me, too.” And it appeared from the look she gave him that it was for the same reason.
*
Stevie spent an entire day mopping up ice water as it melted, wringing the mop into a bucket, then dumping the bucket behind the building. The one bright spot was an unexpected call from Kara.
“You’re back in communication range.”
“And doing a couple thousand things as I get ready to head stateside, where I’ll do a couple thousand more things.”
“Worrying about the wedding won’t be one of them,” Stevie assured her as she studied the last bits of melting ice. Not unless they flagrantly tempted fate again.
“It’s going smoothly?”
“Stunningly so.”
“You and Brant—”
“Have made a truce.” Stevie’s voice softened an iota. “We’re doing well, Kara. This was a blessing in disguise.”
“You don’t have to cross the street when you see him?”
“Does everyone know about that?”
“Yes. I think they do.” Kara gave a soft laugh. “If all goes according to plan, we’ll arrive in Holly next Thursday. Brant is hiring a crew to clean the house.”
“You’ve already spoken to him?” Stevie asked.
“I did. He said you two were getting along great, but I wanted to hear it from you. He always puts a brotherly spin on things.”
“No spin. We’re…good.”
“Glad to hear it. Now for the next few days, I’ll be in and out of communication range—”
“We have everything under control here. Just focus on you and Theo doing what you need to do.”
“Exactly what Brant said.”
“Hey,” Stevie said. “Great minds and all that.”
“And all that,” Kara echoed in an amused voice.
“Do you want me to send you photos of what we’re doing?”
“I’d love to be surprised.”
“One surprise, coming up,” Stevie said.
“Talk to you soon,” Kara replied. “Better than that, I’ll see you soon.”
“Can’t wait.”
Stevie finished the floor a little over an hour later, having coaxed all the water she could out of the floorboards. Now it was up to the heaters to do their job and dry the place out.
She dumped the last bucket of water, then left the mop and pail in the machine shed just in case.
As she slipped into the barn, Brant and Milt looked up from where they were attaching rustic cedar planks to a partition that would close off an area to store coats and belongings. The catering station would be set up on the opposite side.
“Are you done, or looking to be spelled?” Brant asked. He’d offered to take turns with her, but she’d turned him down.
“I am done. Nice partition.” The frame had already been there, possibly for a grain or tack room, but whoever had built the barn had never finished it.
“Yeah. I like it,” Brant said. He motioned to the older man with his head. “Milt has a couple other ideas.”
“Let’s hear them,” Stevie said.
“Well,” Milt said, scuffing the toe of his boot over the floor. “These planks are pretty rough. I thought that maybe we could build a dance floor. We can make it so it breaks down and”—he jerked his head at Brant—“he can use it for future events, because I think he has a real good idea renting this space out, like he’s thinking about.”
“That would be excellent,” Stevie said, shooting Brant a look. “I wonder why we didn’t think of it?”
“Because we don’t have the woodworking equipment Milt has,” Brant said.
“All you had to do was ask,” Milt replied.
“All right. I hadn’t thought of it. And it’s a great idea.”
“What else?” Stevie asked.
“Well, I wondered about making a few snowmen and having them here and there. Nice-looking ones.”
“Snowmen,” she said, catching Brant’s eye before nodding. “I think the thing to do is to make one and see what we think.”
“I found this picture on Pinterest,” Milt continued seriously. “A couple, really. I can share them if you add me to your wedding board.”
“I will,” Stevie said, pulling out her phone as if adding a retired shop foreman to her Pinterest wedding board was an everyday occurrence. “Then I’ll take a look and we’ll go from there.”
“In the meantime,” Brant said. “Milt and I are going to Pratt’s Lumber to see what we can find to make a decent dance floor. We were just finishing up here. You want to come?”
“No. I think I’ll continue putting in the hooks to hang the lights. You know, to kind of make up for time lost before people started mentioning the s-m-o-o-t-h word?”
Brant gave her a mock scowl, then said to Milt, “I’ll explain on the way.”
“You’ll want to stay off the ladder while we’re gone,” Milt said seriously.
Stevie nodded, recalling what Brant had said about Milt and ladders. “Right. Only ground level stuff.” She glanced at Brant. “I’ll be gone before you get back.”
He nodded. “Thanks for the de-ice. That was beyond the call of duty.”
“Just keep your going-smoothly comments in your head from now on.”
His smile creased his cheeks. “Yeah. Lesson learned.”
*
Stevie messaged Brant at 6:30 the following morning to let him know that she’d been asked to take an emergency sub job at the high school, but that she was worried about the wedding time factor—only nine days to go, she reminded him.
Brant assured her that with Milt’s help they wouldn’t fall behind schedule and told her to take the job. After ending the call, he skipped breakfast and headed to the barn with a thermos of coffee to finish the cedar plank partition before Milt arrived.
“How’s the machine shed floor?” Milt asked as he inspected the cedar partition. Brant had brought one of the heaters back to the barn so that they didn’t freeze while they worked.
“Still damp, but making progress.”
They spent the morning installing a drop-down attic door kit in the loft, thus negating the need to transport the sound equipment through the upper loft door via tractor bucket. After the heavy lifting was done, Brant inserted a stupefying number of small hooks along walls and rafters in preparation for hanging lights, while Milt started on his dance floor. He was half done when Brant decided to call it a day.
“We accomplished a lot,” he said.
“And we’ll get even more done tomorrow when Stevie’s here,” Milt agreed, carefully placing his tools in the toolbox.
“You want to have dinner?” Brant asked. “I cook a mean frozen pizza.”
“You got beer?”
“Is my middle name Joseph?”
“Is it?” Milt asked.
Brant jerked his head to the door. “Let’s go.”
Milt didn’t stay long. After one beer, two slices of pizza and several yawns, he was on his way, with a promise to be there bright and early the next day. They’d talked about his travel plans for the late spring and summer, and how he’d thought about moving up his departure date by a couple of weeks and swinging by Seattle to see a couple of old buddies before heading south to his daughter’s house.
After he left, Brant finished the last slice of pizza, sitting alone with the remains of his beer and his thoughts. He was tired, and, like Milt, maybe a touch lonely.
Everyone gets lonely.
He shook off the thought and was on his way to the living room when someone knocked on the kitchen door. He opened it to find Stevie standing on the back porch, a white trash bag in one hand, a carryall in the other, and a cat-got-the-canary smile on her face.
“Surprise,” she said.
“And a good one at that.” He stood back, kind of amazed at how her appearance made all traces of melancholy evaporate.
He closed the door and it was obvious from her expression that the surprise was more than her appearing on his doorstep. She set the plastic bag and the carryall on the table, met his gaze, and gave him a watch-this look before pulling a glue gun out of the carryall with a twist of her wrist.
“Nice.”
She held up her hand in a wait-there’s-more gesture, then reached into the plastic bag and pulled out a length of Yeti-worthy fake fur.
He began to get an idea of where this was going and, sure enough, she pulled out a black suit jacket and held it up.
“We’re going to make a Tundra Tuxedo,” he said.
“I subbed in the English department and they were cleaning out the drama closet. The jacket has a rip, but I fixed it before I came.”
“And the fur?”
“Doesn’t everyone have yards of fake fur at home in their junk closet?”
“I don’t know that many people with junk closets.”
“Expand your horizons, Brant.”
“I don’t have a junk closet, but I have black slacks that I never wear.”
“You must fetch those,” she said. “I’ll plug in the gun.”
He started for the bedroom, calling back to her, “Do we need scissors?”
“I brought two pairs.”
Brant came back with the pants and found Stevie helping herself to an ale.
“I hope you don’t mind. Good crafting often involves good beer. At least in my house.”
“But not tepid beer.”
“Heavens no. Want one?”
“Well, I’m not driving, so sure.”
They settled at the table with beer and hot glue and commenced cutting fur into the shapes of the lapels and pocket flaps. After some discussion, they decided on fur tuxedo-style stripes down the outer legs of the slacks, and fur cuffs on both jacket and pants.
“We’ll have to piece the stripes,” Stevie said.
“Theo won’t care,” Brant assured her.
“I hope he’ll at the very least put this on for some pictures.”
“Kara will be lucky if he doesn’t wear it to the ceremony.” Stevie met his gaze with a smile, and he added, “Theo’s a lot like you. He doesn’t care what people think.”
He gave a jerk as he burned his finger on hot glue.
“Careful,” Stevie said. “It’ll raise a welt. I know from experience.” She started gathering up the scraps of fur and stuffing them into the trash bag while Brant finished the stripes down the pants.
When he was through, he tried unsuccessfully to brush away the bits of fluff adhering to his shirt and jeans.
“You might need a vacuum for that.”
“Noted.” He glanced at the clock. “This is the second night in a row that I’ve kept you late.”
“Yeah. I was yawning all day in class, but”—she hesitated before saying—“it was worth it. I like knowing the plan.”
“Me, too.”
“The school really appreciated me being able to drop everything and be there today, and they understand that I won’t be able to do it again until after the wedding. I’ll be here in the morning ready to hang lights and boughs.” She cocked her head thoughtfully. “Did we decide which we’re doing first? Lights or boughs?”
“Milt will tell us. And, by the way, thanks.”
“For?”
“I told you I wanted to ease up and have fun and look at me. I just spent an evening gluing fur to a man’s suit.”
“Sacrificed a pair of slacks.”
“Got fluffy stuff all over my kitchen.” He leaned down to take her lips. She tasted of ale and sweetness.
“You are officially now a fun guy.” She stepped back. “I should go.”
“Leave the fluff, take the gun. I’ll handle cleanup.”
She packed the gun into its heatproof holder, then stashed it, along with the scissors, in the carryall.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She slung the carryall over her shoulder, causing little white filaments to rise in the air, then drift to the floor.
She was almost to the door when Brant said her name. She turned back, but it took a second for him to find words. He wasn’t even certain why he’d said her name. Maybe it had to do with how lonely his kitchen was about to become.
“Text me when you get home?”
“I will,” she said. She gave him a smile, then disappeared out the door.
And yes, as soon as the latch clicked shut, the house felt empty.
*
“That is beautiful,” Stevie said on an awed breath and she circled the dance floor Milt was in the process of building. “My dad would be impressed.”
“I don’t know about that,” Milt said. “It’s pretty simple. It’s just that oak planks are a lot smoother than these old redwood planks, although if you priced these babies out today it would blow your socks off.”
“I’m sure it would,” she agreed. As the daughter of a contractor she was familiar with lumber prices.
“Once I get the oak planks laid, and run the sander over them, this’ll be pretty nice.” He beamed down at this handiwork, then glanced over at Stevie. “By the way, did you get my pins?”
“I did,” she said. “And I love them. Especially the snowman with—”
“—the striped scarf?” he asked.
Behind him, Brant’s mouth twitched, and Stevie gave him a warning look even though she knew that he wouldn’t hurt the older man’s feelings.
“You should see it,” she said, pulling out her phone.
Brant looked then grudgingly agreed that the snowmen were cool.
“Not that we have time to build snowmen right now,” Milt said as he started to the barn. “Now that the hooks are up, we have lights to hang—”
“Boughs first or lights first?”
He held up a finger, indicating she’d made a good point. “Boughs first, then lights, and then when we’re done stirring up dust, I’ll put a coat of polyurethane on the dance floor.”
“Boughs first,” Stevie said as she and Brant headed behind the partition where the cross saws were leaning against the wall.
“Then we’d best get cutting.”
Stevie reached out to brush at Brant’s shoulder. “You have a little fur on your jacket.” She whisked away a small white clump of Yeti fur.
“Nothing like what Theo has to contend with.”
Milt was hammering away on the other side of the wall, and Brant took advantage of the moment to slide his hands up the sleeves of her coat and pull her closer for a kiss.
“Hey, you two,” Milt said.
They jerked apart before realizing that he wasn’t calling them on public display of affection. He wasn’t even on their side of the partition. He was looking for them.
“Back here,” Brant called.
“Ah.” He ambled through the door, the hammer in one hand. “I was thinking that while you’re out harvesting branches, you might grab some of that holly growing along the fence.”
“Great idea,” Stevie said. “Actually I saw holly decorations in the pins you sent.”
“Just an idea.” Milt bounced a look between them, as if wondering if he should be wondering about them, then disappeared back around the partition.
“You’re going to get me in trouble,” Brant murmured close to her ear.
Stevie turned and looped her arms around his neck. “One can only hope.”