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Eli spoke from the stairs without intruding on her space. “The kitchen is done, and we made some food. Are you hungry?”
In her last share-house situation, everyone just ate at different times. She realized she was starving. “I am, actually. I’ll be down in a minute.”
Henry Dale was forking down pasta when she went into the kitchen. He didn’t look up from his plate, and she smiled a bit as she served herself. This was simple tomato spaghetti, but it was nice having somebody care if she’d eaten or not. Eli served some and passed it to her before doing the same for himself. As she sat, she surveyed the kitchen. Already it was 100 percent better; between the cabinets, the floors, and the counters, it had a clean, retro charm.
“We sanded the counters,” Henry Dale said. “Applied some elbow grease. Butcher block is forgiving, so it just needed some TLC.”
“And wood polish,” Eli added.
The counters did look nice. She’d had no idea the kitchen could be brought back so effectively without major expenditures. Even the appliances gleamed after being scrubbed by the professional cleaning crew, scouring away years of neglect.
“Thank you, seriously. I can’t believe how good everything looks. And for dinner too. Who made this? It’s delicious.”
Eli smiled slightly while twirling pasta around his fork. “I did. Glad you like it.”
“It’s all right,” Henry Dale said gruffly. “Not difficult to boil a noodle, is it?”
But she noticed the old man ate every last bite. Great-Aunt Gertie hadn’t installed a dishwasher, so Iris washed everything by hand. That seemed fair since the men had cooked. Eli stuck around to dry the dishes and put them away. Oddly, the silencefelt…companionable. There was no pressure for her to fill the quiet with pointless words.
“What do you think he’ll work on next?” she asked eventually, as Eli put the second plate in the squeaky-clean cupboard.
Henry Dale had gone to his room to read, leaving them alone in the kitchen. Eli paused, staring thoughtfully at the old-fashioned pattern on the china. Iris quite liked these plates; they had scalloped edges and lavender flowers painted daintily on the border with one small blossom in the center. Actually, these platesmightbe valuable antiques, but she had no intention of selling them.
Then Eli said, “I think it’ll be the porch. He’s worried about the soft boards. Somebody could get hurt if they fall through.”
Iris winced. “I might have gotten into it with our next-door neighbor over the porch earlier today. She threatened to report me to the city.”
“I heard some of that while I was hiding out in the kitchen,” Eli admitted. “I might have steered Henry Dale toward the porch as a result. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.”
Still, she sighed, trying to imagine how much it would cost to replace the lumber. The kitchen work hadn’t cost much, just paint and a few miscellaneous supplies. But porch repair… Yet Eli was right. If someone stepped wrong and got hurt, Iris might get sued.Maybe I should sell the ceramic angel collection?That felt borderline immoral, as Great-Aunt Gertie had considered those things her family.
“You look worried,” Eli said.
“I’m sure you’ve guessed that I’m not exactly well off despite owning a house. So I was just wondering how to pay for everything.”
“You mean the porch? Henry Dale has contacts in construction. I think he’s planning to get scrap wood from a builder he knows. If that doesn’t pan out, there’s always something being torn down.”
She stared, unable to believe this was real life. These two were so obviously going above and beyond that she didn’t even know what to say. “Wow. I’m speechless.Thank youisn’t enough, so dinner is on me next time.”
How did I get so lucky? Henry Dale is a retired contractor, and Eli is a handyman who flips houses. Oh, and codes. I wonder…
Silently she shook her head.I can’t ask him for evenmorehelp.
“I’d like that,” he said quietly. “But you look like you want to say something else?”
Apparently, her mouth didn’t obey her brain. “Thing is, you said you do web stuff, right? I have an online store for my jewelry-making business, but I don’t get many hits. Is that something you could help with?” She couldn’t read his reaction to the request, so she hurried on. “Like with Henry, I can discount your rent next month, accounting for the time you spend helping me. And if you don’t want to or don’t have time, it’s totally okay—”
“Iris.”
“Yeah?”
“Breathe.”
“Okay. I hate asking for favors. Let’s pretend I never said that.”
Eli smiled and took a step toward her. She noticed that he smelled clean, like soap, evergreen, sage, and cinnamon. Idly, she wondered what cologne he was wearing.
