Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Luke pulled up to the curb in front of Noah Thompson’s house, letting out a low whistle. He didn’t get over to this side of town as often as he used to, but everyone in Maple Hill knew of this house. Rachel’s photos hadn’t done justice to the faded grandeur of the old home in the historic district.
Late afternoon sun cast shadows across peeling paint and warped siding, most of which had rotted over the years. His heart ached as he took in the ornate trim. It had been neglected long enough there was no way of salvaging it. His fingers itched to run along those architectural details, to feel the story in each groove and curve.
“What did they do to you, beautiful?” he murmured, grabbing his small tool kit from the passenger seat. While he didn’t plan on doing anything tonight, it was easier to be prepared in case he spotted any easy fixes.
The house had good bones—he could see that even from here. But someone had slapped cheap fixes on top of serious problems, creating a patchwork of poor decisions that would take serious time and money to undo. Still, it was majestic, with strong columns supporting the roof of the front porch, and he was as captivated by the turret on one corner as he’d been when he was younger.
Movement caught his eye—a small face pressed against the glass in the turret he’d been staring at, there and gone like an apparition. Must be Noah’s kid. Or it was the ghost of someone who’d lived here when the house was new, standing guard to see who dared enter.
Okay, maybe Luke watched too many paranormal investigator shows on TV, but it was sort of cool to think about it being a possibility. Then again, if spirits were guarding the house, whoever had tried “fixing” it wouldn’t have gotten away with half of what they had.
Luke checked his reflection in the side mirror, adjusting his plain gray T-shirt and running a hand through his perpetually messy hair. First impressions mattered, even if this was just a favor for Rachel. He hadn’t forgotten the way Noah used to scowl at him, as if his mere presence had offended him in some way. He needed Noah to realize he was not only competent but damned good at what he did.
Luke noted the way the concrete steps dipped to the left and how the railing in the center wobbled. He shook his head at the peeling paint on the steps. If someone hit those just right in the rain or snow, they’d tumble and crack their head open. There was no way in hell an inspector had gone through the house before Noah bought it.
Before he could knock, the heavy wooden door swung open. Noah stood in the entrance, wearing a dress shirt and tie with the sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that suggested he might not be completely hopeless with physical labor. Time had been kind to him—he’d grown into those serious features that caught Luke’s attention back in high school when he’d been too young and too obvious with his attention toward his sisters’ friend.
“Luke.” Noah’s greeting was polite but reserved, exactly what Luke would have expected from the guy who’d spent high school with his nose buried in books. “Thanks for coming by.”
“No problem.” Luke shifted his weight, hyperaware of how the old porch boards shifted beneath him. “Though I should warn you, this beauty’s going to need more than a Band-Aid.”
Noah’s expression tightened. “You haven’t even looked at anything yet.”
“Don’t need to.” Luke toed out of his boots, lining them next to the others inside the door at Noah’s urging. He didn’t typically make a habit of walking around clients’ homes in his stocking feet, but this was already proving to be anything but normal. “Those columns are original to the house. Beautiful craftsmanship, but I’d be willing to bet every one of them is rotted. Previous owners or whoever was trying to sell the place probably painted over the damage instead of addressing the real issue. If you’re lucky, I’m wrong, and it’s just a facade they wrapped around the originals.”
“Dad!” A blur of motion and primary colors burst through the door. “Is this the fix-it guy? Tommy says you fixed their treehouse! Can you fix my treehouse too? I mean, I don’t have one yet, but maybe after you fix the house?—”
“Eli.” Noah’s tone carried a warning, but his expression softened as he looked at his son. “Let Mr. Garrett come inside before you start planning construction projects.”
“Luke,” Luke corrected automatically, dropping to one knee to be at eye level with the kid. “Mr. Garrett’s my dad. And you must be the famous Eli. Livy’s told me all about you.”
Luke knew the quickest way to gain a kid’s trust was by relating to them. Not only did parents insisting their kids refer to him as Mister anything make him twitch, but dropping his niece’s name was a surefire way to show Eli he was a good guy. Then again, Luke got the impression all it would take to impress Eli was fixing the house.
Yeah, mentioning Livy was definitely the way to go in this case.
Eli’s eyes widened. “Really? Did she tell you about my science project? I made a volcano, and it actually exploded! Well, not really exploded, but there was lots of foam and?—”
“Homework,” Noah interrupted. “Remember?”
“But, Dad?—”
“Tell you what,” Luke said, hoping he wasn’t overstepping. “How about you go tackle that homework, and while you’re working, I’ll check out what needs fixing. Then maybe you can help me measure some stuff before I leave. Deal?”
Eli bounced on his toes, practically vibrating with excitement. “Can I use your tape measure?”
“Better.” Luke reached into his bag and pulled out a small notebook and pencil. He kept a stack of them with him at all times, so he was never caught without. After flipping through the pages to ensure it was blank, he handed it over to Eli. “Every good contractor needs an assistant to write down measurements. Think you can handle that?”
“Yes! I know how to write my letters super good. Mrs. Feehan said I’m the neatest in the class.” Eli grabbed the supplies like Luke had just handed him the keys to a candy store. “I’ll do my homework super fast!”
They watched him dart inside, Noah shaking his head slightly. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know, but if he wants to help and it’s okay with you, I really don’t mind.” Luke straightened, trying not to notice how Noah’s height put them nearly eye to eye. “Mind if I take a look around out here first? Get a sense of what we’re dealing with?”
Something flickered across Noah’s face—pride warring with practicality, maybe. “Of course. Though I should warn you, the inside’s worse. I’m not going to be able to tackle everything at once, so maybe you should just focus on the most critical issues?”
“Challenge accepted.” Luke grinned, hoping to ease some of the tension radiating off Noah in waves. It didn’t work—if anything, Noah’s expression grew more reserved. “I’m still going to poke around out here. The last thing we need is to think something’s cosmetic and have the front of the house fall off while you’re sleeping.”
That was an exaggeration. Probably.
“I’ll leave you to it, then. I need to check on Eli’s homework anyway.”
Luke watched him disappear inside, noting how the door stuck slightly in its frame. Another item for his growing list. He pulled out his phone, snapping photos as he circled the house. The foundation looked solid, thankfully, but water damage had taken its toll on the exterior. Whoever had flipped this place had focused on cosmetic updates while ignoring actual issues.
Movement caught his eye again—this time, it was Noah watching from an upstairs window, his expression unreadable. Their gazes met briefly before Noah stepped back, disappearing into the shadows of the house.
Luke let out a slow breath, turning his attention back to the sagging gutters and crumbling chimney. He had enough on his plate with the Tillerman project. Taking this on would be crazy. Impossible.
But holy shit, it would be awesome once she was brought back to her original glory. He’d done some research on the house, curious as to what the history of the house was, and he was fascinated by the fact that what had started as the extravagant home for one of Maple Hill’s founding businessmen had later served as dormitories for two different schools in the area before turning into a home once again. Luke was jonesing to be the one to pay tribute to everyone who’d called this place home over the past century plus. Hell, he’d even let Keaton take the credit and stake some of their signs in the front yard just so everyone knew who was doing the renovation. That would be a massive feather in their caps by the time Luke got done.
There was something about this place, about the way Noah looked at him like he was simultaneously hoping for and dreading Luke’s assessment… It tugged at him in a way he couldn’t quite explain.
“Well,” he muttered, running his hand along a section of intricate trim work, “nobody ever accused me of making smart decisions.”
From inside, he heard Eli’s laughter floating through an open window, followed by Noah’s quieter response. Luke smiled despite himself. Maybe some decisions didn’t need to be smart to be right.
Now, he just had to figure out how to tell Keaton he was taking on another project. But first, he had a very enthusiastic six-year-old assistant to put to work.
The kitchen looked like a war zone. Water damage stained the ceiling in a pattern that reminded Luke of a Rorschach test, and the cabinets had been painted so many times they probably creaked from the weight of all those layers. But it was the sink that drew his attention—Noah’s nemesis, according to Rachel.
From the looks of it, someone had replaced the faucet and done a piss-poor job of it. If not for Noah mentioning a pretty tight budget, Luke would love to hunt down fixtures resembling what might have been installed when the home was built, but one thing was for damn sure: he wouldn’t be replacing the existing contractor’s special with something cheap and devoid of character. This house deserved far better.
“It’s not usually this bad,” Noah said from his position near the doorway. He’d loosened his tie, though his posture remained stiff. “I mean, it was only dripping before I tried to fix it.”
“Ah.” Luke crouched to examine the pipes under the sink. “Let me guess— YouTube tutorials?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Only to someone who’s seen the aftermath of DIY plumbing about a thousand times.” The pipes were a mess of mismatched parts and what looked like… “Is that duct tape?”
Noah’s silence was answer enough.
“Duct tape is supposed to fix everything,” Eli piped up from his spot at the kitchen table. His homework lay forgotten as he watched Luke work. “Except it didn’t fix the sink. Or the stairs. Or the weird noise the furnace makes that sounds like a monster trying to eat the house.”
Luke bit back a smile at Noah’s muffled groan. “Duct tape’s good for some things, buddy, but plumbing needs a gentler touch.” He reached for his flashlight, scanning the connections. “Like surgery, but for houses.”
“Cool! Can I help? I’m really good at Operation —I never make the nose buzz and light up anymore.” Eli turned to his dad. “See, I told you we needed a doctor for the house.” He spun around, casting wide eyes in Luke’s direction. “Are you a house doctor?”
“Something like that.” Luke’s fingers found the source of the problem—a coupling had been cross-threaded, probably during Noah’s attempts to fix the leak. “Right now, I need you to be my lookout. Let me know if you see any water coming from?—”
A loud crack interrupted him, followed by an ominous gurgling sound. Luke barely had time to register what was happening before a spray of water hit him square in the face. He could’ve sworn the supply valve was turned off. The stupid thing was probably broken like everything else in this place.
“Whoa!” Eli jumped up from his chair. “That was awesome!”
“Eli, back up,” Noah ordered, already moving toward the sink. “Luke, I’m so sorry?—”
“It’s fine.” Luke spat out a mouthful of water, trying to reach the shutoff valve while keeping the spray contained. “Just need to?—”
Noah reached past him, and suddenly they were both wedged into the space under the sink, Noah’s shoulder pressed against Luke’s as they fumbled for the valve. Water soaked through Luke’s shirt, but he was more aware of Noah’s proximity, of the way their hands brushed as they finally managed to shut off the water.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Luke felt Noah’s breath against his neck and smelled the faint traces of whatever cologne he wore through the mustiness of old pipes and mineral-heavy water. Then Eli’s delighted laugh broke the spell.
“That was like a Super Soaker!” He bounced on his toes, apparently thrilled by the impromptu water show. “Can we do it again?”
“No,” Noah said firmly, extracting himself from the cabinet. He looked as flustered as Luke felt, his white dress shirt now partially transparent where the water had hit him. “Definitely not doing that again.”
Luke sat back on his heels, pushing wet hair from his forehead. “Well, the good news is I found the problem. The bad news is you’re going to need all new pipes under here. Whoever worked on this before used the wrong fittings, and everything’s corroded to hell and back.”
“Of course it is.” Noah’s shoulders slumped slightly. “How much…?”
“We’ll figure something out.” Luke stood, accepting the dish towel Noah offered. “But first, you might want to mop up before the water seeps into the subfloor through the cracks in this hideous vinyl. Trust me, you don’t want to add that to the list.”
Noah looked around at the puddles spreading across his kitchen floor, and something in his expression made Luke’s chest tight. This wasn’t about a broken sink or corroded pipes—this was about a man trying to create a home for his son, watching it fall apart despite his best efforts.
“Here.” Luke pulled a handful of clean rags from his bag. “Eli, want to help? We can make it a race—whoever soaks up the most water wins.”
“Really?” Eli grabbed a rag. “What do we win?”
“Hmm.” Luke pretended to think about it. “How about whoever wins gets to help me take measurements after? I might even let you use the laser level.”
“What’s a laser level?” Eli’s eyes widened. “Does it shoot bad guys?”
“Even better—it shoots perfectly straight lines.” Luke demonstrated with his hands. “Like having a superhero helper when you’re trying to make sure everything’s exactly right.”
Noah watched their exchange, something softening in his expression. “Luke, you don’t have to?—”
“Quiet, Dad! We’re on a race to save the house.” Eli was already on his hands and knees, pushing his rags across the floor. “I’m totally gonna win!”
Luke caught Noah’s eye, offering a slight shrug. “Kids love lasers. And competition. And helping. Might as well put all three to good use, right?”
“Right.” Noah’s lips twitched, almost a smile. “Though I notice you’re not actually helping with the cleanup.”
“I’m supervising.” Luke grinned, but he grabbed a rag anyway. “Besides, some of this mess is definitely my fault. Though, in my defense, your pipes were a disaster waiting to happen.”
“Story of this house,” Noah muttered, but there was less tension in his voice now. “At least the water’s clean. Sort of.”
They worked in companionable silence, broken only by Eli’s running commentary about his superior mopping technique and occasional questions about laser levels. Luke found himself stealing glances at Noah, noting how his methodical approach to cleaning matched what Luke remembered of him from high school. Even now, with his shirt soaked and his carefully styled hair curling at the temples, Noah moved with purpose and precision.
It was kind of hot, actually. In a completely professional, absolutely-not-thinking-about-it way.
“I win!” Eli announced, holding up his dripping rag like a trophy. “Can I see the laser now?”
“Hold up there, buddy.” Luke wrung out his own rag over the sink. “We still need to check the rest of the kitchen first. But tell you what—while your dad and I talk about boring grown-up stuff, why don’t you draw me a map of where all the problems are? You know, since you’re the expert on what needs fixing.”
Eli’s face lit up. “Can I use different colors? Like red for super bad stuff and orange for kind of bad stuff? I would use yellow, but sometimes yellow is hard to see.”
“Perfect. A color-coded disaster map.” Luke pulled his notebook from his belt, now slightly damp but still usable. “Just like a real contractor.”
Noah cleared his throat. “Eli, homework first. Then you can make Mr.—Luke a map.”
“I already told you it’s done,” Eli whined. Luke wasn’t sure if Noah was so flustered he’d forgotten or if he was simply trying to buy them some time without interruptions. Probably the latter since he didn’t seem like the forgetful type.
“Tell you what,” Luke interrupted, sensing an impending battle. “I need to check some other stuff anyway and talk to your dad. How about you double-check your homework, and then we can do the measurements and map together? That way, we’re not missing anything important.”
Eli considered this, his expression serious. “Promise?”
“Cross my heart.”
“Okay!” Eli bounded back to his seat, pulling the wrinkled worksheet out of his backpack.
Noah watched him for a moment before turning back to Luke. “You’re good with kids.”
“I remember what it was like being his age. Everything’s an adventure waiting to happen.” Luke ran a hand through his hair, grimacing at how it stuck up in wet spikes. “Even broken pipes. And I have a lot of practice with Megan’s kids. You wouldn’t know it now that his entire life is video games, but at one point, her oldest was just like Eli. The greatest bribe in the world was him getting to help me or his Pops in the shop. I’d have tried that on Eli, but I wasn’t sure you’d be cool with me inviting you guys over to my place when there’s so much to do here.”
“Speaking of which…” Noah gestured toward the hall. “Want to see what else is trying to fall apart?”
“Lead the way.” Luke followed him out of the kitchen, trying not to notice how Noah’s wet shirt clung to his shoulders. “Though I should warn you, after that performance, the rest of the house has a lot to live up to.”
This time, Noah’s almost-smile reached his eyes. It transformed his whole face, softening the serious lines and hinting at someone who might actually know how to laugh. “I’m sure it’ll manage to surprise us.”
And wasn’t that the truth of it? Luke had a feeling this house—and its owners—had plenty of surprises in store.
The upstairs hallway creaked beneath their feet, each step releasing the musty scent of old wood and forgotten stories. Luke ran his hand along the wall, feeling the subtle ripples in the plaster where moisture had worked its way in from the roof. The damage wasn’t visible yet, but he knew the signs.
“Tell me you at least had someone look at the roof before you moved in,” he said, tilting his head to examine a suspicious dark spot on the ceiling.
“The realtor said it was fine.” Noah’s defensive tone was becoming familiar. “Just needed some minor repairs.”
“Right. And I’m secretly Batman.” Luke pressed gently against the wall, testing its give. “Your realtor should be arrested for fraud. This whole section of the house has water damage. You’ve got maybe a year before it starts showing up as actual holes.”
Noah’s jaw tightened. “I can’t afford to replace the entire roof.”
“No one said anything about replacing the entire roof.” Yet , Luke added mentally. “But we need to address the problem areas before they get worse. Otherwise, you’re looking at structural damage that’ll cost way more than preventive repairs.”
They moved through the house room by room, Luke noting issues while Noah grew increasingly quiet. The primary bedroom’s windows stuck in their frames, warped by years of temperature fluctuations. The bathroom’s ancient plumbing gurgled ominously when Luke tested the faucets. Even the light fixtures seemed determined to remind them of the house’s age, flickering despite new bulbs.
“Dad! Luke!” Eli’s voice carried up the stairs. “I finished my homework! Can we do the measuring thing now?”
“In a minute, buddy,” Noah called back. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture Luke was beginning to recognize as a sign of stress. “Maybe we should have started with a newer house.”
Something in his tone made Luke pause. “Hey, this place has good bones. Yeah, it needs work, but anything worth having usually does.”
“That sounds suspiciously like something Rachel would say.”
“Probably because she’s usually right.” Luke grinned at Noah’s skeptical look. “Don’t tell her I said that though. She’s insufferable enough already.”
They reached what Luke assumed was Eli’s room, judging by the superhero posters and scattered LEGO. Here, at least, the problems were mostly cosmetic—peeling wallpaper, scuffed floors, a window seat that needed refinishing.
“The previous owners lived here for decades,” Noah said quietly. “Raised their kids here, grew old here. I keep thinking about that, you know? How this place was someone’s home for so long, and now…”
“Now it’s your turn,” he interrupted, not wanting the good memories they were trying to preserve tarnished by whoever thought they could make some cosmetic repairs and call it good enough to raise the selling price of the house. Luke moved to the window seat, running his fingers along the worn wood on the trim next to the little alcove. “Check this out—see these marks? Height measurements, probably from their kids. Multiple generations of them, judging by the dates.”
Noah joined him, squinting at the faded pencil marks. “1962 to 1998. James. Shirley. Michael…” Luke could practically see Noah scouring his brain, trying to place any of the names listed. “Man, it’s sad none of them wanted to keep the house in the family or, at the very least, take something like this with them.”
“You can’t buy history like that in some new subdivision.” Luke straightened, suddenly aware of how close they were standing. “This house has stories, Noah. It just needs someone willing to listen to them. And maybe replace some ancient plumbing while they’re at it.”
That earned him a small laugh, transforming Noah’s entire face. “Is that your professional opinion?”
“Nah, my professional opinion involves a lot more swearing and terms like ‘catastrophic failure waiting to happen.’” Luke stepped back, giving them both some breathing room. “But my actual opinion? This place could be amazing. It’ll take time, money, and probably a few minor nervous breakdowns, but it’s worth saving.”
“Dad!” Eli appeared in the doorway, waving Luke’s notebook. “I made the map! Red is for super bad stuff, orange is for kind of bad stuff, and I used blue for the stuff that makes weird noises but doesn’t look broken yet.”
“Perfect.” Luke accepted the slightly crumpled pages, covered in what looked like a cross between a treasure map and an abstract art piece. “This is exactly what a professional disaster assessment should look like.”
Eli beamed. “Can we do the laser thing now? Please?”
Luke glanced at Noah, who nodded. “Go ahead. I need to make some calls anyway.”
They watched him head downstairs, his shoulders carrying the weight of everything they’d discovered. Eli tugged on Luke’s sleeve, practically vibrating with excitement.
“So where’s the laser? Does it make cool noises? Can it cut through walls like in spy movies?”
“Even better.” Luke pulled out his laser level, positioning it on the doorframe. “It helps us make sure everything’s exactly where it should be. Want to see something cool?”
He clicked the button, and a perfect red line appeared across the wall. Eli gasped, properly impressed.
“That’s so cool! Can I try? Please?”
“Sure, but careful—it’s not a toy.” Luke showed him how to hold it steady. “See how the line isn’t straight across the wall? That means this whole side of the house has settled over time. That’s something else to put on the map, but you wouldn’t have known about it without a special tool.”
“Does that mean the house is going to fall over like when my sandcastle is all crooked?”
“Only if it was ignored for a really, really long time. But that’s why we’re going to make a list of everything we find.” Luke marked the measurements in his notebook, adding them to Eli’s colorful disaster map. “Then we’ll make a plan to fix it. Make it strong again.”
“Like a superhero?”
“More like a doctor.” Luke remembered their earlier conversation. “Remember? Houses need checkups too.”
They spent the next twenty minutes taking measurements, Eli proving to be a surprisingly focused assistant. By the time they finished, Luke had a fairly complete picture of what needed to be done—and how impossible it would be to tackle while working full-time on the Tillerman project. He might as well drape a drop cloth over the coffee table he was still working on and lock up his workshop. If he didn’t come to his senses—which he was beginning to doubt he would—every waking hour not spent at the Tillerman’s would be in this old girl.
He found Noah in the kitchen, staring at his phone like it might bite him. “Please tell me you’re not watching more DIY videos.”
“Worse. Looking at my savings account.” Noah set the phone down. “I appreciate you taking the time to look everything over, but I think I need to handle this in tiny pieces. Maybe start with just the essential repairs?—”
“Or,” Luke interrupted, “we could work out a plan. Something manageable spread over time. I know some suppliers who owe me favors, and I’m pretty good at prioritizing what needs immediate attention versus what can wait. I’ll talk to Keaton to see if I can get the materials using the company account so you’re only paying our cost instead of a retail mark-up. And having me do the work will be a hell of a lot cheaper than most of the companies around. If you want to save even more, you could go to ReStore. You can find some pretty good deals there, and you’ll be giving back to the community at the same time.”
Noah’s expression turned wary. “I thought you had other projects lined up.”
“I do.” Luke leaned against the counter, ignoring how it wobbled slightly. “That’s actually good news for you because you can pay for stuff as we go, and it’ll be a drawn-out process since I’ll have to work around my day job schedule. I’m thinking maybe this one’s worth making time for.”
“Why?”
The question hung between them, heavy with implications. Luke could list a dozen professional reasons—the challenge, the satisfaction of restoring something beautiful, the potential for future referrals. But what came out was, “Because sometimes the things that seem impossible are the ones most worth doing.”
Noah studied him for a long moment, and Luke fought the urge to fill the silence with jokes or deflection. Finally, Noah nodded slowly.
“Okay,” he said. “But I need to know exactly what I’m getting into. No surprises.”
“Can’t promise that.” Luke gestured at the kitchen’s water-stained ceiling. “Old houses love surprises. But I can promise to be upfront about costs, timelines, and priorities. We’ll talk about what everything will cost, then come up with solutions when things are still out of your budget. And I’ll teach Eli how to use more tools than a laser level.”
That earned him another small smile. “He’s going to hold you to that.”
“Good. Who knows, maybe he’ll come out of this with a love of carpentry that’ll lead to a career when he’s older.” Luke liked the idea of inspiring passion in someone the same way his dad had done for him. He pulled out his phone, already mentally rearranging his schedule. “How about I put together a proper estimate? We can go over it this weekend and figure out where to start.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“I know.” Luke met Noah’s gaze steadily. “I want to.”
The words felt bigger than they should, carrying weight beyond their simple meaning. Noah must have felt it too because he looked away first.
“This weekend then,” Noah said quietly.
Luke nodded, gathering his tools. He had about twelve hours to figure out how to tell Keaton he was taking on another project and about twelve minutes to convince himself this wasn’t a terrible idea.
But as he headed for the door, Eli’s voice stopped him. “Mr. Luke? Are you going to fix our house?”
Luke turned back, finding both Thompsons watching him with different versions of the same guarded hope.
“Yeah, buddy,” he said, decision made. “I’m going to fix your house.”
And maybe, if he was lucky, he’d figure out why that felt more like a promise than a job.