Page 24 of Something Old

Grant withdrew the papers she’d given so much thought to.

“What’s all this?”

“I thought it might be helpful to create a hierarchy of tasks, which I then broke into steps. I also came up with a list of categories to help us weed out the obvious trash before starting the epic work of determining things to keep, things to donate, and things to sell.”

Grant shuffled through the sheets, giving them a quick scan. Rain battered the tarp overhead, creating a loud but weirdly pleasing beat, and water streamed from a low corner of the tarp, creating a pool of water that would no doubt be a lake soon. Grant was no longer scanning. He had flipped back to the beginning and was poring over each page again, reading closely.

Then, without a word, he sank down beside Grover—apparently as oblivious to the moldering foam and uncomfortable-looking springs as his dog was. Madeline worried she’d offended him somehow. He hadn’t appeared to have an action plan, but maybe she was wrong about that.

“I hope I haven’t overstepped. I mean—”

Grant shook his head, “Not at all,” he whispered without looking at her, then his voice dropped even lower like he was talking to himself. “I don’t know why the hell you’re helping me but thank you. I mean it. Thank you.”

They did not start in with her list right away, however. Since they were both already suited up for bad weather and Grant was in the middle of a job, Madeline jumped into the task at hand—or rolled with it, so to speak. She spent several hours trundling old tires up a ramp Grant had constructed out of a two-by-eight plank onto a trailer that he’d use to take them away.

When she called it a night, just as the rain finally stopped, Grant retrieved the plastic envelope of papers and waved it at her.

“Thanks again,” he said gruffly. “This plan of yours . . . seeing everything broken down . . . it’s already helped me so much. It makes me think it’s not impossible.”

Madeline’s thighs and glutes were burning, and she was so tired she could hardly lift one foot and place it in front of the other. Still, she found herself smiling as she climbed into her car, then gave Grant a nod through the window and raised her arm in a silent farewell. The work had indeed kept her nerves and dark thoughts at bay, but it also felt good to help someone who apparently felt as hopeless and overwhelmed as she often did.

She knew personally how even the dimmest bit of light in a dark tunnel could give the strength you needed to take another step, just when you thought you’d never manage to. The idea that maybe she’d provided that ember of a spark for someone else was . . . well, another small flicker that might help her keep taking more steps too.

Chapter 15

Despite the hours of labor Madeline had put in the day before, not to mention the project breakdown she’d obviously given a lot of thought and time to, when a tentative knock sounded on the side door bright and early Tuesday morning, Grant was certain it was the youth-event enthusiasts yet again. What part of he was not blinking interested could they not get?

He stormed to the door—well, “stormed” the best he could when forced to wind through a crap-maze, that is. Reaching it and about to throw it open as hard as he could, he stopped himself in the nick of time. The last thing he needed was to break a door in a juvenile rage that he’d then have to find time to fix. Not to mention, it was totally unfair to take out his foul mood on a stranger trying to do a good deed. He should really start carrying cash, so he could just donate and be done with it!

“What now?” he asked tiredly, inching the door open a mere a crack and peering out.

There was a shadow of movement as if whoever stood beyond his view was about to rap again, but no new knock came. Instead, Madeline’s face—well, her eyes anyway, warm and with mingled concern and questions arching her eyebrows—met his in the small opening.

Words failed him. “Sorry,” he finally muttered and opened the door wider. “I thought you were somebody else.”

“Apparently,” she said drily, “or should I say, hopefully. You should really do something about your temper. You sounded like a bear in there. You’re going to give yourself—or someone else—a heart attack.”

Familiar shame made Grant terser yet. “I never in a million years thought you’d show up again.”

Madeline blinked, then widened her eyes and grinned. Grant, in a rare doubt-free moment of insight, realized her smile today—the good-natured cheer—was completely put on, the way you’d shrug into a sweater or pull on a hat. “That’s fair, I guess, since I bailed once—but just so you know, you’re stuck with me now.”

His mind was still boggled by the idea. “But it’s morning, not evening.”

Madeline’s eyebrows lifted again. “Is that all right? Should I come back later? The shop’s closed Mondays and Tuesdays, and since I’m caught up on things—”

What a doofus he was! And an ingrate! And a socially backward loser. Holly was right. “No, no, it’s great,” he stuttered. “I . . . just . . . You caught me by surprise, that’s all.” He realized he was gripping one side of the door jamb, blocking her entry, and dropped his hand. “A good surprise, though.”

When Madeline had re-entered his life yesterday, showing up in the pouring rain, saying she needed a friend, then throwing him a lifeline, he had been . . . incredulous. Disbelieving. And apparently, some part of him had stayed skeptical. Today though, as he studied her eyes, shining more green than brown at the moment, that changed. She actually . . . meant it. She really did want to be friends. She really was going to help him. Yesterday afternoon wasn’t a one-off. Something energizing and hopeful jolted through Grant. He had no clue what he’d done to win this cosmic lottery, but this time he wouldn’t botch it.

He dropped his arm. “Please come in.”

She beamed at him—but as she did, a shadow slinked behind her.

Grant groaned. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Well now, I guess that all depends . . .” A dimple appeared in Madeline’s left cheek. “If you thought Boots”—she gave him two thumbs-up—“you got it in one.”

He stared at her. “Why on earth would you bring that filthy animal here? You’re the one who said it was lucky my dad didn’t have a cat.”