Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 38149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
“Ha fucking ha.” Joe tugged at the screwdriver and hammer supported by heavy-duty loops on the apron and opened the side pouch. “This thing is like wearing a toolbox. Everything I need is literally attached to me. And yeah, if I get a hankering to bake a dozen cookies…I’ll be set.”
I snickered at his self-deprecating expression. Call me easy, but I was a sucker for a man who could laugh at himself. “Chocolate chip or—”
“Hi, there, Mr. Warren!”
I swiveled to face the short, stocky man with thick dark curly hair striding our way.
“That’s Tony,” Joe explained. “He’s a good guy, but the man can talk.”
“I’m standing right here, Joe,” Tony chided, lightly punching his friend’s bicep before extending his hand in greeting.
“Pleased to meet you, Tony. Call me Cam.”
“Oh, wow. Okay. I gotta tell you, I’m a big fan. So is my wife. Abby’s read all of your books. I’m not as big a reader, but I saw that Morningside show on Netflix and it was great,” he enthused with a wide smile.
“Thank you. I appreciate it.” I was one thousand percent sincere, but praise always made me a little squeamish, so I tilted my chin toward the house meaningfully. “How’s that roof looking?”
“You’re all set,” Tony assured me. “We sealed the trouble spots. I’d like to take a peek at the inside office window, if you don’t mind, though. Joe sealed the exterior casing, but I want to be sure I’m not missing anything.”
“Of course. Come on in.”
I led the way inside, nodding mutely while Tony and Joe discussed point of origin and water damage. I had nothing to add to the conversation and I’d made it clear that I’d hired Joe to deal with house repairs, so my presence certainly wasn’t needed. I lingered anyway, humming absently when Tony included me.
When my eyes glazed over from uninteresting information overload, I turned to examine the eight-foot tree Joe had situated between the window and the fireplace. It was a testament to my powers of concentration that I’d managed to ignore it for a few days. I studied it cautiously now, bracing myself for a sting of painful old memories. They didn’t come. This tree didn’t remind me of the past. It reminded me of Joe, and that was kind of…comforting.
“Nice tree,” Tony commented.
I started and gave a quick nod. “Yeah, it’s not so bad.”
“We just put ours up last weekend. I know I’m gonna sound like a public service announcement, but check your lights before you string them on the tree. Mine blew a fuse. No joke. We’re lucky the house didn’t go up in flames. We had to put off decorating till I bought new ones. My kids weren’t happy, but I’ve got the replacements in the truck now.”
“I’m not sure how old my lights are, to be honest, so I’ll keep that in mind.”
I backed away from the tree, symbolically signaling that I was ready to move on from the conversation.
Tony wasn’t.
“Oh, that’s not good. Test them and—you know what? I bought extra. I’m gonna leave a box for you. This is a big tree, so you may need more coverage anyway. Hang tight.”
“Oh, no. Don’t worry about that,” I said. “I’m sure mine will be fine and—”
“It’s no trouble at all. I bought out the hardware store this morning, and I can definitely spare a box. I insist. Call it a thanks for the last-minute job. Business is slow at this time of year, and I’m usually scrambling for work. Not a great position to be in right at Christmastime, so…thank you.” He clasped my shoulder briefly and strode for the door before I could protest.
Joe snickered. “Take the lights, man. Tony’s like a bulldog with a bone when he gets an idea in his head, and he’s right. These little jobs around this house have made a difference to a few families who are used to scraping by and making do during the holidays. Let him thank you.”
I rubbed my beard and sighed. “I guess we’ll have to put them on the tree tonight, won’t we?”
“We or me?”
“You,” I amended with a laugh. “I’ll watch.”
“Hmph. The good news is…it doesn’t take long to put lights up, and you were going to do it for a photo op anyway. Might as well get it over with.”
“You’re right. Then we can get rid of it.”
“You keep saying that, but I think you like this thing,” he stated in a serious tone.
“I’m ambivalent.”
“Just as well, ’cause if you toss your tree out the door too soon, someone will notice, and word will get around that the fancy writer in the old house on Walnut Street is kind of an asshole.” His twinkling eyes and melodic delivery took the sting out of the sentiment.
“Is that so?” I singsonged, amused by his playful teasing.