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“You know, you have a perfectly good bed over there,” I say, pointing to his sixty dollar memory foam bed. I’m pretty sure he rolls his eyes at me, because a moment later, he’s stretching down off the couch, grumbling as he does. “For being three years old, you sure act like an old man.” I head toward the kitchen, grabbing a snack and my water bottle from the counter.
Once I have a snack, I head to the sliding door that leads to the backyard and my shop. I bought this house from my grandparents a few years ago, and while I’ve had to do a lot of updates on it, it’s a good house. I sort of didn’t have a choice when it came to buying it, because of the shop out back. Gramps has been working out of it since he was a kid, and I followed in his footsteps.
Travis slinks through the door as soon as I open it, running down the porch steps to pee on every possible bush and tree in sight. I got him fixed when he was young, but he still feels the need to mark his territory on literally everything.
I whistle sharply, and he runs back to me, following in my steps as I walk toward the shop. I don’t have any work to do tonight, so I should enjoy the night off, but for some reason, I need the peace the shop brings. I feel restless, unsettled.
Opening the creaking door, I’m surprised to see the lights on. That’s weird. I could have sworn I turned them off after loading that table into the truck.
My gaze lifts to the figure in the back corner, sitting in the recliner, fast asleep. Gramps.
Travis zooms through the shop, kicking up sawdust in his haste, and jumping straight into his lap. He startles, chuckling when he realizes it’s just the dog. “Travis, you can’t do that, you’ll give me a heart attack,” his deep weathered voice teases.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be breaking into people’s shops and you wouldn’t get so scared,” I tease back.
Gramps sits up in his chair, his white hair sticking out in different directions from his nap. Travis hops down after licking his face a few times, then starts to do his usual rounds.
“I think I have the right to come to my own shop every once in a while,” he says.
“You know I don’t care. I’m just giving you shit.” I stride over to him, sitting down in the other recliner next to him. “How’d you get here?” I ask. “I didn’t see your car out front.”
“Your dad dropped me off after we had a late lunch. I told him I wanted to see some projects you’ve been doing, and figured you could run me home after.”
I nod, knowing I’d do anything for this man. I’ve always been close with Gramps, partially due to the fact that he taught me everything I know about woodcraft, and partially because he gets me. We have the same personality, always have.
I was always the one set to take over the business. My dad had an affinity for it, sure, but he never loved it the way Gramps or I did. My brothers have all spent time with us out here in the shop, but they had different career affinities. I think Gramps thought the family business would die with him, until I came along. As a kid, I would spend hours and hours out here, watching him work, making my own treasures, too. My first real project was a jewelry box for my mom when I was ten, and I continued on from there. By the time I was in high school, I was working right alongside him.
I love that I can build something that can potentially outlive a person, just from a block of wood. The larger projects, like the dining room table I just did, never cease to amaze me. I also love the more intricate work. I do my fair share of whittling and carving, and I especially love to carve designs into bookshelves, or tables. Gramps taught me the ins and outs of the business itself after I graduated high school, rather than just wood working. I learned how to do the books, set prices, taxes, you name it. When he officially retired a few years ago, I was ready to take over. Granted, he should have retired years before he actually did, but he always said he wanted to give me the best foundation he could.
And he did. I have a steady clientele, as well as leads to events and other ways to grow our business.
I understand more than words can say why Gramps needed to come to the shop. He knows he’s always welcome, and I will often find him out here, looking at my work. Never to judge, but to observe the work, and to find the solace that being here brings.
“Yeah, I’ll bring you whenever you’re ready,” I say to Gramps. “Did you hear we are doing family pictures tomorrow at Sunday brunch with the Bells?”
Gramps gives me an odd look. “No, who told you that?”
“Marley called me on the way home, and told me to dress nice.”
“That girl,” he grumbles. “She’s lucky she’s good at what she does, or I’d have to give her more crap about makin’ me dress up like a hooligan for a few pictures.”
“She’s the granddaughter you never had,” I tease.
He raises his eyebrows. “If your brother would get his head outta his ass and ask her out on a date, then maybe she’d be my actual granddaughter,” he mutters.
“You’re telling me,” I chuckle. “I tried to talk her into it a few weeks ago, but of course she denied me every step of the way.”
“It seems that everyone knows they’re supposed to be together but themselves.” He shakes his head.
“You got that right.”
“Speaking of love,” he starts. “Anyone you’ve got your eye on lately?”
It’s like he knows. He’s always been able to hear the words I don’t say. I shrug, running a hand through my hair. “Not really.”
“Something’s got you all twisted though,” he says.
I nod. “Yeah. I met a girl at Isaac’s wedding a few weeks ago. She was the florist, and god, Gramps. She was gorgeous. I swear, I was about ready to ask if we could do a double wedding.”
