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To her surprise he came back quickly and popped his head in through the door.
“The wind’s whipping up, it’s clouding over again and there’s another storm coming through. Where’s the key to your outhouse?”
“You mean where I keep the boiler and all that other important stuff?” Lucy asked.
“Yup.” He held out his gloved hand and she set the key in it. “Thanks.”
“Tool kit is out there, too,” she added. “Just in case you need anything.”
Even from the kitchen she could hear the banging, thuds, and occasional curse word as Caleb worked his magic. She’d been upstairs and tidied his room, which he’d left in an acceptable state. He’d even attempted to make his bed. She’d replenished his shampoo and shower gel and brought in clean towels before dusting and vacuuming.
Now she was sitting at the kitchen table wrestling with the November accounts. She tried to ignore her worries about what the snowstorms had done to her December, which was usually one of her best months as visitors and family returned to Quincy to enjoy the holidays. She’d had nothing but a series of cancellations as the local roads and airports closed, cutting them off from civilization.
Caleb came in carrying the toolbox and stamped his feet on the mat.
“I tightened up everything I could see on the boiler and the hot water tank. Let’s hope that helps.”
“Thank you.” Lucy leapt to her feet and poured him some coffee. “My handyman hasn’t been able to get up here for weeks, so nothing’s been fixed.”
He gave her a considering look. “You should learn how to do that stuff for yourself.”
“You’re right.” She held his gaze. “Thanks for the reminder that I can’t rely on anyone else when living out here.”
He frowned. “That’s not exactly what I meant.”
“It’s true though, isn’t it? I mean we all need to be self-reliant. The myth of neighbors helping neighbors is long gone.”
“Now you sound like my dad complaining about the good old days.”
Knowing how Caleb felt about his father, Lucy didn’t take his remark well. “You started it.”
“I just suggested you should know how to fix your own damn house,” Caleb said evenly. “That’s all.”
“And I agreed with you.” For some reason Lucy was in an argumentative frame of mind. “If only I had the time between running this ‘damn house’ all by myself to take a few classes or something.”
“You don’t have any staff?”
“Not at present.”
Caleb frowned. “Your gran had at least two people working with her.”
“And I can’t afford to do that.”
He let out his breath as he set the toolbox by the door. “Things are that bad?”
She pointed at her accounts book. “The weather’s been against me this year. We’ve had massive snowstorms and wildfires, which stops people coming up here.”
“Understandably.” He nodded.
“Hopefully things will perk up next year,” Lucy said brightly. She didn’t want him thinking she was a complete loser. She wanted his positive attention, not his sympathy. “I’ve got enough capital in reserve to see me through at least another season.”
“That’s not much.” Caleb was back to frowning again.
“And it’s not your problem,” Lucy said firmly. “Can I get you some coffee? Or are you planning on calling Mike down at the shop?”
* * *
Caleb knew when he was being given the brush-off, but he wasn’t quite done. He pointed at the table.
