Chapter 3
THREE
“So we’re looking at a complete ceiling replacement in the main area, plus electrical work and possibly some structural reinforcement,” Finn explained, spreading the sketches across the desk.
“The good news is that the joists seem sound. The bad news is that we’re going to need to work in sections because Ollie’s scared shitless about closing the store while we work. ”
Keaton nodded, studying the drawings with the focused intensity that had made Anderson Homeworks the most trusted renovation company in Maple Hill. “Timeline?”
“I think we can get it done in two weeks, assuming no surprises, but I’m building in an extra week for anything unexpected.
” Finn tapped a section of the blueprint where the water damage was most severe.
“We’ll start with the worst-damaged area near the back office, then work our way forward.
That way, he can keep the front section open for customers while we’re working. ”
“He?” Brendan asked, looking up from his coffee with a hint of a smirk. “You mean Ollie Jennings?”
Finn ignored his brother’s question, focusing instead on the task at hand.
“I’ve drafted a materials list and preliminary budget.
If we can get started tomorrow, we should be able to have the demo done by Friday.
I’d rather not tear everything out before we’re ready to work on those sections, but we can’t risk mold damage on top of everything else. ”
Keaton glanced between the brothers, one eyebrow slightly raised, before returning his attention to the plans. “This looks solid, Finn. I want you to take point on this project.”
“Me?” Finn looked up, surprise momentarily displacing his professional composure. He knew Keaton wanted him to take on a more hands-on role, but it made more sense to have someone who knew what they were doing on-site. “I thought Luke would handle it, since he actually knows what he’s doing.”
“Luke’s tied up with the Westfield restoration through the end of the month,” Keaton reminded him.
“Besides, this job needs someone who can juggle the schedule, manage the client relationship, and keep the budget on track while we’re working around an active business.
” He clapped Finn on the shoulder. “You’ve got the calm for this.
Besides, you’re the only one who can wrangle both a budget and Brendan’s attention span, and I need him to be the crew chief on this project since it wasn’t something we’d planned on, and he’s the most experienced person we can pull off other jobs. ”
Brendan grinned, unperturbed by the jab. “He’s not wrong. My attention span is directly proportional to how many coffee breaks we take.”
A familiar tightness formed in Finn’s chest—pride at the trust Keaton placed in him mixed with the weight of another responsibility. But he nodded because that’s what he did. He stepped up. He made things work.
“I’ll handle it,” he said simply.
“Great. I’ll let Ollie know.” Keaton gathered his notes, already moving on to the next item on his checklist. “The crew can start first thing tomorrow. Eight sharp.”
As Keaton headed back to his desk, Brendan leaned across the table, his expression shifting from teasing to curious. “So, the bookstore guy. What’s he like? Luke said he was pretty torn up about the water damage.”
“Understandably so,” Finn said, carefully organizing the blueprints. “It’s his family’s business.” He hesitated, remembering Ollie’s tired eyes behind those glasses, the way he’d kept making jokes even while mopping up disaster. “He is resilient though.”
“Resilient, huh?” Brendan’s smile widened. “And was he cute while being resilient?”
Finn gave his brother a flat look. “I was assessing water damage, not his dating potential.”
“Multitasking is a valuable skill,” Brendan countered, undeterred. “Just saying, you could check for leaks and check him out at the same time.”
“The only thing that needs checking around here is your work ethic,” Finn replied, though there was no heat in his words. This was their rhythm, Brendan pushing, Finn deflecting.
Brendan raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. But for the record, I think it would do you good to notice someone. It’s been, what, three years since you went on a date?”
“Two,” Finn corrected automatically, then immediately regretted engaging. If he hadn’t come out as bi to his brother, they wouldn’t be having this conversation. “And my dating life is none of your business.”
“As your brother, everything about you is my business. It’s in the sibling contract.” Brendan drained the last of his coffee and stood. “I’m just saying, you spend all your time taking care of everyone else. Maybe it’s time someone took care of you for a change.”
The words hit closer to home than Finn wanted to admit. He gathered his notes, avoiding Brendan’s too-perceptive gaze. “I’m fine. And I have work to do.”
Brendan studied him for a moment longer, then shrugged. “Whatever you say, boss. I’ll talk to Luke and see who else we can pull off the Westfield project.”
As his brother left, Finn let out a slow breath, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. When had Brendan gotten so damn insightful? Or had he always been, and Finn had just been too busy keeping everything else together to notice?
He pulled out his phone, checking the time. Almost noon, and he still had the final estimate to prepare for Ollie, plus he had to get the outstanding invoices paid before he went home for the day.
His phone buzzed with a text from Brooklyn.
Going to Isabel’s after school. Science project emergency meeting. Home by 7.
Sounds good. Need a ride?
No, Marcus said he can drive us.
Finn hesitated.
Everything okay?
The three dots appeared, disappeared, then reappeared before Brooklyn’s response finally came through.
Fine. Just school stuff. See you tonight.
Something in the brevity of her response set off a warning bell in Finn’s mind. Brooklyn was fifteen—terse text messages were practically a developmental milestone—but this felt different. Felt like the kind of “fine” that meant anything but.
He spent the next few hours buried in invoices and ordering materials for upcoming projects, emerging from his focus only when Keaton knocked on his office door around three.
“Heading out early,” Keaton said. “Jules has some gallery thing tonight. You good here?”
Finn nodded, stretching his stiff shoulders. “Just finishing up the Shelf Care estimate. I’ll email it over tonight.”
“Don’t stay too late,” Keaton advised, though they both knew it was a futile suggestion. Finn’s dedication to finishing what he started was legendary around the office.
“I won’t,” Finn lied easily.
After Keaton left, the office gradually emptied, the sounds of work giving way to the quiet hum of the building settling.
Finn lost himself in the numbers again, meticulously calculating labor costs, materials, and contingencies.
By the time he finished, the sky outside his window had deepened to the rich blue to orange gradient of early evening.
He gathered his things and locked up, the familiar routine requiring little conscious thought. The parking lot was empty except for his car, a sensible sedan that Brooklyn occasionally teased him about being “aggressively boring.”
Once inside the car, Finn didn’t start the engine immediately. Instead, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number he knew by heart.
“There’s my boy,” his mother answered on the second ring, her voice warm and familiar. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Hey, Mom.” Finn felt some of the day’s tension ease at the sound of her voice. “Just checking in. How are you feeling?”
“Oh, the same. These old bones creak a bit more each year, but I’m not complaining.
” There was a smile in her voice, the kind that had always made Finn feel like everything would work out somehow.
He hated that even though she only lived on the other side of town, they didn’t see one another often.
She was so busy with her other older lady friends that it seemed their schedules never matched up to get together.
“How’s my granddaughter? Still running circles around the softball field? ”
“When she’s not running circles around me,” Finn said, smiling despite himself. “She’s at Isabel’s, working on a science project tonight.”
“And how are you? Really?”
The question, simple as it was, caught Finn off guard. He stared out the windshield at the empty parking lot, considering how to answer. She had always had an uncanny ability to see through his careful composure.
“I’m fine, Mom. Busy with work. We’ve got a new project starting tomorrow—the bookstore in town had some water damage.”
“I heard. That’s a lovely place. That young man—Ollie, is it?—always helps me find the perfect book when I stop in. His parents are lucky to have him.” There was a pause, then she added, “You didn’t answer my question though.”
Finn sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m…managing. Brooklyn’s been a bit distant lately. And work is hectic. And I’ve got a deadline coming up for…the other thing.”
“Your writing,” Maggie said simply.
She was the only person in Maple Hill who knew about Rhett Wilder, a secret Finn had shared during a rare, vulnerable moment after his father’s funeral three years ago.
“Yeah. That.” Finn leaned his head back against the seat. “I’m behind schedule. I really don’t want to let my readers down by pushing it back, but I might have to.”
“You’re trying to be everything to everyone again,” his mother observed, no judgment in her tone, only understanding. “You can’t hold up every wall by yourself. Your readers will wait. It’s you who’s putting pressure on yourself, not them. Let someone steady your ladder now and then.”
The metaphor made Finn smile faintly. “I’m not sure I know how to do that anymore.”
“Start small,” Maggie suggested. “Ask for help with one thing. Just one.”