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“And what are you going to do naked?” I asked my reflection. “Hit them with a shampoo bottle?”
When I sat on the side of the bed in a towel, I took a couple of photos of Charlie and sent them to the family chat, to which my mom replied that she and Dad were visiting. Leo added a reminder that he was coming over, too; plus, Lorna typed that she hadn’t met Charlie yet, but knew all about him from the family chat and couldn’t wait to meet him. I smiled, waiting for Reid to chime in,and me, he typed.
Gotta love family.
* * *
The weekthat followed on from that Sunday had flown and had been one learning experience after another. I hadn’t managed to go out on site at all, not that I was really needed as we had a lull before the next project started on Monday. Arlo carried the weight, with help from Dan, and every day, he would message me with various updates.
He understood I’d want to know, and from the serious—in his opinion, the Johnson family extension was at least a third of a degree from plumb—to the annoying—the pale pink paint we’d ordered came in as turquoise—he kept me in touch with everything.
He also visited every single night, straight from the site—hot, tired, and sweaty, his company T-shirts showing evidence of what he’d been working on. Today was no different.
“Thank God, it’s Friday,” he said, and relaxed into the garden chair, stretching his legs out in front of him and picking at the rose-tinted paint on his arm.
I handed him a beer, assuming that, maybe, he’d want to stay the night, AKA hoping he’d stay. “Tell me everything.”
He took a deep swallow, and I wasn’t staring at him, until he glanced up and caught the fact I was, in fact, staring.
“The painting is done. The trade suppliers agreed to a refund on the turquoise, even though we’d opened the first tin, but not before I had a heated debate with them over how we were unlikely to ever use that color and, no, we wouldn’t take the fall for their mistake and the mislabeling. They grumbled, a lot.”
“What about the Johnson house?”
“Fixed—it was a bracket inside the roof. We tied it off.”
“And the Acton’s summer house starting Monday?”
“No more work. Let me have a Charlie cuddle.” He put the beer on the table and held out his hands. I eyed the dried paint splashes on his arms,, and he must have noticed. “I changed my T-shirt,” he said, and I passed Charlie over, and Arlo sat him on his lap so they faced each other. “Hey, you,” he said, and made faces to encourage a smile. No one had to do much to make Charlie smile. He was just one of those babies who seemed happy to be here. “Has your Uncle Jax been good?”
“Bah,” Charlie answered.
“I was afraid of that,” Arlo replied, as if they were having a serious discussion. “I bet he’s been all worried about the summer house contract.”
“Bah.”
“Yeah, you’re right; he does worry over nothing.”
“No, I don’t,” I lied. “It’s just that if we do it well, it could get featured on the Acton’s home improvement channel and…” He sent me a pointed stare, and I crumbled. “Yeah, I’ve been worrying.”
“See?” Arlo asked Charlie and booped his nose. “Told you he’d been worrying.” Then, he turned to meet my gaze. “I explained that we’d need a couple of extra days. They were cool, said they’d extend their Maldives trip, lucky fu—fudgers.”
“You didn’t need to do that. What if they think we’re slacking and?—”
“Stop!” he commanded, and I did. “I told them we needed the extra time for ensuring it was the best product.” He smiled at me.
I took the seat next to him and picked up my own beer. “What if we don’t?”
“Don’t what?” he said, bouncing Charlie.
“What if we don’t delay, what if I come back on site on Monday?”
“And how’s that gonna work?” Arlo was confused, but I’d been thinking about this.
“I’ll fix things.”
“Get your mama to watch Charlie?”
“She could maybe do a couple of hours, and I could come and do my bit.”
