His partner in crime, Brody, shifted on his feet, eyes cast toward the ground. I sensed there was more they weren’t telling me, but I let it go—for now.
“We—I really am sorry,” Luke said.
“Yeah. And we were so excited about getting to help with the picnic tables for the Winter Solstice Celebration.”
I crouched down to their level. “I know you are, and I love that. But you aren’t supposed to use tools without adult supervision, right?”
They nodded in unison.
“And you swear it won’t happen again?”
“We promise.” Complete with emphatic nods.
I held both their gazes a moment longer before pushing off my thigh to stand. “All right. Let’s get to work, then. You’re a little early, so you guys can help paint some of the ones we’ve already finished if you want.”
They rushed for the paint like it was the most exciting job ever. I supposed at their age, I probably would’ve thought so too.
I chuckled to myself and shook my head as I resumed measuring for the stairs. I always enjoyed hanging out with Luke and Brody—their innocence and energy, their excitement. It made me wonder if that’s what I would’ve been like, too, had I not gone through what I had. If I would’ve been as carefree and exuberant had my childhood not been stolen from me.
“You all right there, boss?” Chase asked, holstering his hammer in his work belt.
I shook my head and returned my focus to the stairs slash storage drawers. “Yeah. These stairs are a bitch.” It was going to be a tight fit, but not the worst I’d seen.
“Want to trade? I’m currently constructing the bunks that will fit seamlessly above and below the TV.” He rolled his eyes.
This tiny house had become a huge nightmare the longer the project dragged on. The couple was trying to cram in more than could possibly fit. And I got the feeling they didn’t fully grasp the concept of going tiny. Admittedly, it was an adjustment for most people. But this couple wanted bunks for their four grandkidsin casethey visited. But they also needed to be easily stowed. They wanted storage for quilting supplies, a soundproof sewing room for her so he wouldn’t be disturbed when she was quilting, as well as a place for his guitar collection. It was—a lot.
Building picnic tables would be a welcome change. The boys worked quietly, painting without too much of a mess.
“Uh oh,” Chase said a while later. Tires crunching on the gravel had my head lifting. “What’d you do now?”
A Sunnyville Police Department squad car pulled up to the entrance to the hangar, and my heart rate jumped even though I knew I’d done nothing wrong. My friend Grant stepped out of the car, though his grim expression only ratcheted up my anxiety.
“Uncle Grant!” Luke jumped up from the ground, slowing only to set down the paintbrush before running over to give Grant a hug.
“Hey, kiddo. Hey, Brody. What are you guys working on?”
“We got to paint some of the picnic tables!”
“Wow.” Grant nodded. “Very important. Ethan must trust you guys a lot.”
Their little chests puffed up with pride, and I would’ve smiled if I weren’t concerned about Grant’s unexpected appearance. In my experience, a visit from the police never meant anything good.
“He does,” Luke said. “And then he’s going to help us with a tree house!”
“Tree house? What about the shed at Grady’s?” Grant and his brothers had built a playhouse for Brody a few years back, but a lot had changed since then. Marriages. Kids. Life.
Luke sighed. “You mean the ‘She Shed’? It’s been taken over by Aunt Dylan. She’s busy writing a new album and can’t concentrate in the house.”
“I see.” Grant rested his hand on the butt of his gun, and I tensed despite his relaxed stance. “Well, I know how much my brothers and I loved our tree house growing up. And with Ethan’s help, I’m sure it will be amazing.”
“Yeah. We’re going to have a slide and a…”
Grant listened patiently a moment longer before saying, “Hey guys, can you give me a minute to talk to Ethan?”
Brody worried his lip, and I could see a change come over him. He’d lost his dad—a firefighter—at a young age. And I hated the fear that resided in his eyes. Whatever news Grant had to deliver—it wasn’t good.
“Why don’t you boys work on another table with Chase?” I suggested when he passed by.
