2. Ward
2
Ward
W ard knew he was scowling because of the way the sweat pooled between his brows and dripped down the bridge of his nose to burn his eyes. He had a list a mile long from Hazel containing a myriad of little things to fix around the place, and he’d given himself until noon to finish up. That would allow him just enough time to pack up here, grab a bite to eat, and still make it around the lake to his next job.
Which was why he’d called in the favor Alex owed him from back in February when Ward had helped pull his truck out of the ditch. Alex had dozed off at the wheel for what he claimed was only a moment, but it had been one moment too long to stay on the road. The truck hadn’t been badly damaged—just some dings and scratches that could be buffed out with the right tools. But the embankment down which he’d careened was just steep enough, and the truck was lodged at the right angle, that he couldn’t get enough traction, even with the four-wheel-drive, to get the beast out without help. Ward had driven by at the opportune time and had helped haul him out, no questions asked.
“I owe you one, man,” Alex had repeated multiple times as he worried the bill of the baseball cap he was rarely without. “Any time. You just call.”
Alex hadn’t been injured, either, but he’d been shaken up by the accident, and Ward had tried to reassure him with a friendly clap on the shoulder. “You’d do the same for me.”
Alex had insisted, though, and rarely a week had gone by since then, that he didn’t remind Ward about it.
So when Ward called him early that morning to see if he had any time he could spare, Alex had jumped at the chance to return the favor. He had been sitting on Hazel’s porch steps, armed with his loaded tool belt, a crate of power tools, and two cups of coffee from Juniper’s Coffee Bar, when Ward pulled up at seven AM.
Hazel, of course, had chided them for spending their money on the “foofy” coffee when she had perfectly good coffee right there in her kitchen. Alex had charmed her with his crooked grin and compliments about how pretty her hair looked that morning, and she’d practically force-fed them some of her apple cinnamon muffins. By the time she’d climbed into her big old Chevy Suburban and lead-footed it out of her driveway, the morning was well underway, and Ward was feeling the pressure of his precious time slip-sliding away from him.
So to have Miss…. He shook his head, realizing she’d never told him her name. Whatever her name was, she’d walked into the middle of the already chaotic morning, scared whatever that sound was out of him, then ripped down his dust protection plastic, all in a matter of a few minutes. Well, he just didn’t have time for that.
Hazel had told him that her first guest of the summer was arriving that day; hence, the pressure to get the inside work wrapped up that morning. But she’d assured him that no one would be there until sometime mid-afternoon, long after he’d be gone for the day.
If he’d known guests would be arriving early—it had to be an attractive, female guest, of course—he’d have made the railing repair first thing in the morning instead of leaving it until last. He could’ve been cleared out of the hallway by ten and then would have avoided that whole confrontation—because that’s what it had quickly become—with the woman in the fluttery sundress.
Ward had seen the expression on her face when he’d turned around. She’d looked downright horrified at the sight of him, her nose upturned, eyes wide, her cheeks pink. What was up with that? Had she never seen a working man before? Did she have an aversion to sweat?
He pulled the collar of his shirt open and took a whiff down the front of it. He didn’t stink; at least, not that he could tell.
So maybe she was just trying to hold back a laugh at the sound he’d made. “What was that?” he muttered to himself. Man-scream, she’d called it. He cringed, his gut tightening with embarrassment at the memory. He hadn’t known it was possible for him to produce that high of a note without injuring himself.
“Who you talking to?” Alex said, coming around the corner from the kitchen where he’d replaced two cupboard door hinges and fixed a broken drawer.
Alex had been a godsend that morning. He’d already reinforced the front porch railing and replaced two of the deck boards that had succumbed to water damage this last winter. The whole thing needed to be pressure-washed, sanded, and resealed, but Hazel said that was something she’d have to put off doing until after she’d built up her house repairs account from her paying summer guests. Ward had sent Alex on a quick run to the hardware store for parts, but he’d been back in no time—not late at all, in fact, which only made Ward feel pettier about calling Alex out. And in spite of the disruption caused by Hazel’s guest, they’d gotten right back to work the moment she was gone.
Ward didn’t meet Alex’s eyes, a little embarrassed at being caught talking to himself. Nor did he bother answering the question. “How’s it going in there? Ready for something else?”
Alex made a sound that might have been a chuckle, but he just nodded and said, “Doors and drawers are working smooth as butter. What else you got for me?”
“There’s a window with a broken latch in the bathroom on the right upstairs. I set a new part on the vanity, if you can replace that.”
“I’m on it, boss.” Alex started up the stairs, but her paused to admire Ward’s work. “Nice. This sure is a sweet old house, isn’t it?”
“If you like money pits,” Ward grumbled with a noncommittal shrug. He pulled the used piece of twenty-grit sandpaper from the disc on his sander and tossed it into his trash bucket. He hadn’t bothered taping the plastic dust protection back up, deciding it would probably take less time to clean up what little mess he had left to make. “Most of what we’re doing is cosmetic, just to get her through the season.”
Alex nodded agreeably. “Think the structure is sound, though? The foundation?”
“I don’t know.” Ward shook his head. “I’d be afraid to investigate. Let sleeping dogs lie, you know? And I don’t even want to know what the plumbing and electrical look like. Half the outlets in this place are still the old two-pronged version, and I have a feeling the three-pronged ones aren’t actually grounded.”
Alex patted the cordless drill in the holster attached to his tool belt. “Good thing I came with my batteries fully charged.”
“Good thing.” Ward turned to put the sander back in its case, but Alex wasn’t finished.
“Speaking of fully charged.”
Ward stilled, somehow knowing what was coming.
“Penny, hm? She’s something else.”
Penny. So that was her name. Somehow, it suited her. Not in any obvious way, he supposed. She didn’t have copper curls or brown eyes. No, her chin-length hair was a pale blonde that he’d seen a whole lot of on his Southern California beach clientele. But if he were a betting man, he’d wager that Miss Penny hadn’t spent a single penny on getting hers that color. She was… well, the word that came to him was shiny. She sort of sparkled, in spite of her sass—or maybe because of it—in that spirited girl-next-door way that some people seemed born with, and Ward had found it difficult to look away from her. “Yep. Something else,” he echoed with another shrug.
“I’ve seen her around town before, but never up close and personal.” Alex seemed oblivious to Ward’s reticence to continue the conversation. “Honestly thought she was a kid last summer. Cute, but too young to take note of, you know?”
Ward didn’t even have to look at Alex to know he’d find that half-cocked grin on his face, the one that could win over even the hardest of hearts. He felt himself bristling at his words, and he didn’t like that it bothered him to think of Alex ogling Penny.
“But up close and personal?” his friend continued. “And fully charged like she was?” He let out a low whistle, one that made Ward straighten. “Not a kid, after all. She’s a little ball of fire, yeah? I wouldn’t mind putting out that —”
“Hey.” Ward cut him off, shooting a steely look up at him. “She’s Hazel’s guest, man. Cool it.”
Alex grinned and lifted his hands at his sides in a show of innocence. “ I’m cool,” he said, then headed up the stairs, taking them three at a time.
Ward stood glaring after the guy, feeling as if he’d just been duped. Exposed. Like he’d just inadvertently admitted to something, but he had no idea what. He snatched up the nozzle of his shop vac and kicked on the power button at the base of the canister, then hosed up the sawdust that had settled since he’d stopped sanding. With a clean tack cloth, he wiped down the railing, then soaked another rag in mineral spirits to make sure the surface of it was clean of any residual dust before applying the polyurethane.
He ran his hand down the sleek curve of the century-old banister and smiled with satisfaction at a job well-done. In spite of what he’d said to Alex, this old house was a beauty. A beauty in much need of a thorough renovation, perhaps, but from what Ward could tell, she still had good bones.
Built right on the lake, the eight-bedroom Cape Cod-style home had been in Hazel’s family for generations. When Hazel’s young husband had been thrown from a horse and died only two years after they were married, she’d moved back home with her parents. She’d cared for her mother and father into their golden years, and when the house came to her after their passing, she couldn’t bear the loneliness in the great, echoing rooms. So she had opened the home as a bed-and-breakfast, calling it The Garden Gate Guesthouse at Autumn Lake. From May through September, she took in as many summer lake vacationers as she had rooms available, and fed them spectacular breakfasts made up of produce from her abundant gardens, eggs from her happy chickens, and locally sourced bacon and sausage.
The town center sat about two miles down the road, at a part of the lake with a broad, accessible shoreline where boat and water sport rentals, restaurants and cafes, and kitschy tourist shops lined a boardwalk. There was even a small fairground with well-maintained rides, a miniature golf course, and a vintage merry-go-round with fantastical creatures of all kinds.
Around the turn of the millennium, however, the town of Autumn Lake had been featured as “a hidden gem vacation spot” in one of the popular travel magazines. As a result, the area had experienced a surge of attention, and seemingly overnight, businesses catering to wealthy summer vacationers started popping up all around the lake shore, including fancy bed-and-breakfasts, rental cottages, and even floating cabins for people who wanted to be lulled to sleep by the rocking of the water.
Autumn Lake had thrived on the influx of money coming in, and although it had lost some of the appeal that had made it the hidden gem it once was, most of the changes had been beneficial to the locals.
So when Ward moved back last fall, he’d been taken aback by the state of Hazel’s grand old house just across the little inlet from his childhood home. In fact, it seemed to have deteriorated noticeably right alongside its owner, who had also—quite suddenly and rather shockingly, at least to Ward’s eyes—started looking her age.
The home’s décor felt outdated rather than vintage, the garden seemed much smaller than he remembered it and in bad need of some attention. Although the waterfront property had a sturdy old well-maintained dock, Hazel no longer kept even a skiff boat for puttering around the lake or fishing.
“Oh, I’ve still got my daddy’s old johnboat, but it’s put up in the barn out back. I can’t afford the insurance required to have one available to my guests,” she’d told him when he’d asked about it. “Katy Lawrence just got sued by a guest last year, did you hear? The man insisted he knew how to operate her little bowrider, then he rammed it into her deck, and caused significant damage to both the boat and the dock. To add insult to injury, he then had the audacity to sue poor Katy because he broke his nose on the windshield when he smashed his face into it.”
Ward had heard all about it. He’d been the one to repair the boat, as well as Katy’s dock, shortly after he’d moved back to town. Katy had been devastated, both emotionally and financially, and she’d closed up her little studio apartment over her garage, no longer willing to take in lodgers.
It didn’t help matters that across the lake, the new Carpe Diem Resort with its all-inclusive amenities, was packing in the wealthy out-of-towners—WOOTS, as the townies referred to them—who used to spend their summers in the bed-and-breakfasts, bungalows, and lake cabins owned by the locals.
“Hey, Ward,” Alex called out, interrupting Ward’s meandering thoughts. “I’ve got a few more mornings I can give you between now and the end of the month.” He appeared at the top of the stairs, a concerned frown furrowing his brow. “Have you seen the roof outside this bathroom window? I think you should come take a look.”
“Yeah, I know.” Ward wrapped the cord around his orbital sander and shoved it into its canvas bag. The whole roof needed replacing, but it was another job Hazel claimed she needed to put off until after her summer guests were gone. “Hazel asked if I could just do whatever I needed to do to make it last another few months. I plan on getting up there with a fiver of O’Henry next week sometime and seal up the worst of it.”
“A good summer storm could make quick work of a patch job.” Alex’s frown deepened.
“I know,” Ward said again. A good summer storm could wreak havoc with any roof, old or new, if it came in off the water the right way. “But I promised Hazel I’d do my best to get her through until the fall. If you’re interested, I could use a spotter.” The roof wasn’t pitched too extreme, but any time Ward was up more than a few feet off the ground, he preferred knowing there was someone near at hand in case anything should happen.
“Absolutely. You let me know when.”
Ward would talk to Hazel about scheduling a day to work on the roof. God forbid he should have another run-in with a guest like the one he’d had today. With Ms. Penny in particular. “Will do. Thanks.”
Alex didn’t return to the task he’d been working on, but instead, remained at the top of the stairs.
“Was there something else?” Ward asked.
Alex was no longer frowning. One side of his mouth crooked up in a half smile. “So, do you think that shiny Penny will still be here next week?”