Page 23 of Finding Summer


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“How’s it going in here?” I call out, pushing the plastic sheeting aside and stepping into the mess that used to be our house.

He shuts his welding machine off and lifts his helmet. “Good, good.” He nods enthusiastically. “I got the pipes laid for that bathroom yesterday.” He points toward Brendan’s side. “I’ll get all this one rerouted today.”

“Wonderful.” Finally, some good news. I do a quick run through in my head. Once the pipes are laid, Brendan can fly through the drywall and flooring. Then we’ll bring him back in to connect the appliances and hire an electrician for the lights.

I know Brendan’s not going to like all the extra people, but if it gets the job done faster, that’s what matters. I don’t need all my new neighbors upset with our construction any longer than necessary. And, I’m ready for a bathroom. That green box outside is a poor substitute. Not to mention I’m about tired with washing off with a towel in the kitchen sink. I haven’t broken down and used the neighbor’s outdoor shower like Brendan. Given her less than stellar impression with me this morning, I’m not sure if that’s still an option. I need to get this done. Yesterday.

“Anything I can do to help?”

He scratches the side of his head with the welding gun. His eyes go up and down my outfit. Although I opted for casual jeans and a T-shirt today, I know exactly what he sees. My shirt is too clean. And the loafers don’t help. “You know how to bend pipe?”

“I can learn.” I have a Bachelor’s in Engineering and a Master’s in Architecture. I can figure out how to bend a metal rod, no problem.

His eyes skim my body once more. “That’s alright. I work better on my own. But that room over there’s ready for drywall if you know how to do that.”

I want to press the issue, but that’s not going to get this done faster. So, I nod my head. “That I can do.”

I may not be as efficient in drywalling as Brendan, but he’s taught me enough over the years. Grabbing a tape measure, I get to work.

“How many hours didthat take you?” Brendan laughs behind me some time later.

“It looks good, right?” I stand back from sanding and stare at the single wall.Floor to ceiling, the drywall’s hung. One wall done.

“Yeah, it’s not bad.”

“Not bad? There isn’t a single gap or crack.”

He pats me on the shoulder, getting dust from whatever construction site he was at today all over the shirt I managed to keep clean all day. “I’m just teasing ya, bro. It’s good.”

“It’s more than good. You can say it, it’s perfect.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Yeah, I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Whatever.” I toss the sanding block at him. “Want to help me with the other walls? I figure if we work together, we can finish getting your closet walls up tonight.”

“Sure, let me check out the new plumbing first.”

While he checks on the hired help’s progress, I grab another board and start on the next wall. Before I even measure to cut it to size, he’s helping me. We work in relative silence for a few hours framing the rest of his closet before taking a break.

“I think I’m beat,” Brendan declares, tossing his spatula down and rubbing his biceps. “I'm calling it and gonna go take a shower,” he pats me on my clean shoulder, “then I’m taking you out for dinner.”

“I met the neighbor today, not sure she’s too keen on that.”

“All the more reason to.” He grins as he heads toward the kitchen.

He’s asking for trouble, but that’s on him. I shake my head, then finish cleaning up, and follow him into the kitchen.

“You’re seriously going over there?” I ask as he grabs a few clothes out of his suitcase in the dining room and heads for the door.

He raises his eyebrows. “I need a shower.”

There’s dirt in his hair. Something smeared all over his arms and shirt. I don’t even want to know what’s under his nails. He’s right, wiping off with a rag isn’t going to cut it.Too bad I couldn’t find anyone to clean and fill our pool for a few more days.

“Yeah, you have fun with that. Just don’t act like I didn’t warn you.”

He grabs his bottle of body wash and holds it up in place of a wave. “She’s something, isn’t she?”

Before I can answer, he’s out the door. Shaking my head again, I assess my own damage. My shirt is dirty where Brendan slapped me. Other than that, there’s a little drywall caulk on my hands. Nothing I can’t clean up here.

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