3. Barn … Dance? #4
The lady drove off. Penny finished cleaning up and drove back to the in-law house.
She had one more contracted design, but that needed to wait until the rest of the barn got painted, and it was taking longer than planned.
It would be another week, at least, per the previous night's email, so she had time to squeeze in another commission.
The money would help. "That design, though. "
After supper, she turned on the lights, then sat down with drawing tools and graph paper.
"So the scale will be ..." She ran the numbers and wrote it down on the corner of the first sheet of paper.
Four feet wasn't all that large, but the lady had said that the barn was smaller than the current one.
If it was stone on the bottom like some in the area, four feet across would be more in proportion with the wood.
Penny stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth as she did the math, then used a compass to draw the base circles for the two designs.
Ten o'clock arrived before she finished the moons and star pattern. Getting forty-degree star points to play nicely with thirty degrees between moons took some gentle adjustments. The horse would wait.
The horse was much easier, aside from the hoofs.
The more she looked, the more it seemed like it was supposed to have eight feet.
Whoever sketched it had drawn two shins per leg, then the hoofs.
Penny shrugged to herself and drew the design scale that way.
Wasn't there a local story about an eight-legged horse?
No, that was the ghost horse in the next county west, the one that she'd heard the ladies chattering about in the line at the café in Schaumberg.
The customer arrived right at five the next afternoon.
Penny had almost finished the heart and tulip on the east-facing side of the barn.
She'd had to deal with a wasp nest, then a problem with the lower part of the wall that Mr. Bauer had taken care of.
She didn't like painting while people worked underneath her ladder.
At least the wall took the colors well, holding them and locking them into the pattern cut into the wood.
"How much?" the lady asked when Penny showed her the enlarged designs.
"If I provide the paint, three thousand plus materials, so probably three-thousand four-hundred. That's if there are no surprises, like finding milk paint. I can't work over original milk paint that has bonded to the wood."
The woman blinked. "That's not so bad. And if we provide the paint? The barn was built in the 1930s, and repainted last September. The old Hoekstra-Zimmerman farm on Eichstadt Road," she added.
"If you provide the paint, three thousand. The paint needs to work with whatever you used last year, and be weather resistant." She was not going to have a repeat of trying to stencil designs onto E-Z-Clean.
"We'll provide the paint. How much do you want down? Cash, card, check?" Eagerness filled her voice and she leaned closer.
Penny caught herself before her eyes bulged or she flinched back from the woman. She'd bid high. "Ah, a thousand, credit. I will refund all of it if it turns out there's a problem and I can't do it for some reason. You said the barn is modern?"
The lady leaned farther away. That was good. "Yes. Why— Oh, the mess with the state preservation people like was on the news?"
"Yes, ma'am. If you have to remove them and repaint because the barn is a registered historic structure, I won't refund your money." Why people didn't check ... Not her problem unless it became her problem.
"No, my partner said there had been a barn there, but it got burned down and then rebuilt later, five or ten years later." The lady pawed through her purse and got out a wallet. "Credit card?"
Penny nodded, then leaned into the car and found the special box that attached to the phone so she could do cards. The "Small-grain and produce Bauer, not the Dairy Bauer or the lilac-hedge Bauer" farm had good cell coverage.
"This might trigger your bank to call," she warned as she entered her codes, then swiped the card.
"That's OK. It's a business card, so they are used to four-digit purchases."
Penny checked. The card read "Di'voli and Galgen Antiques." Yes, they probably had some large charges. Her phone chirped. "Shall I send the receipt to your partner's email, ma'am?"
"Yes, please. When can you start?"
"Maybe as early as Saturday, but certainly on Monday of next week. I don't work on Sundays."
The woman leaned away, then caught herself. "Um, well, ah, that is, OK. The paint stores and all are closed then, aren't they?"
"Yes, ma'am. That and some places don't allow construction or other major outdoor work on Sundays before noon unless it is an emergency. Noise laws." Why were they in such a rush?
The lady put the card away, then handed her a piece of cardstock the size of a business card. "The official address is on the back."
Penny got a business card out of her pocket and handed it to the customer. "Here's my phone. Do I need to call ahead for gate access?"
"No, the gate's open from sunrise to sunset, later in winter or if we are having an auction."
She finished the Bauer barn on Saturday morning.
A storm the day before had brought a close to work with part of the rooster yet to do.
Now she studied the eastern designs. As she finished the last brush stroke of yellow, a shield had locked in place around the barn.
Yet the designs were not pattern spells, even in combination.
Magic didn't work that way, unless someone had stored so much power in the barn that she should have sensed it even before she started to work.
As she slid the ladder into the trailer, Mr. Bauer opened the gate.
A tool-laden pickup with "Oberst Tractor and Supply" on the doors rolled into the farmyard.
Two men got out as he slid the gate shut.
"... Because I didn't give enough to charity?
Because I complained about Sharrie using too much mayonnaise in the pasta salad?
" a dark-haired, tall man asked as he got out of the vehicle.
"I meant what did I do, and do not start with a list," a big dark blond grumbled, but quietly.
It was the man from the farmers' market bakery, she recognized him and his colors.
His coworker grinned, then caught himself and nodded toward her.
The big man turned, noted her presence, and turned back to Mr. Small-grain Bauer.
Penny cleaned everything, then did a quick inventory of brushes, tape, sticky cleaning cloths, and rags. More brushes, the inexpensive but not cheap kind, she needed those. All that white background had worn hers out. That's what she got for buying from clearance. At least they had not shed.
"Ahem."
She backed far enough to get out of the trailer and straightened up.
The dark-haired man with the gold-flecked blue-black aura stood a little ways from her.
How had he gotten so close without her hearing?
The large dog that matched his aura also wandered up.
The man glanced down, rolled his eyes, muttered something she couldn't catch, then nodded to the barn. "Did you recharge the designs, Miss?"
"No, sir, just repainted the originals." How could she recharge them if they weren't pattern spells?
He gave her an odd look, then said, "You do lovely work, ma'am. Thank you."
"What do you mean re—"
"Florian, it's total ferklempt," the big man called, half in German.
"We should have brought a trailer." Florian winced, hand over eyes, and spun around.
He hurried around the corner of the barn.
The dog trotted off in a different direction as voices rose and fell more quietly.
The dark blond walked into view, not exactly dragging but visibly unhappy.
"No, we don't have those gears, I do not believe," he grumbled as he hunted around in one of the toolboxes on the back of the truck. "Murphy was an optimist."
That did not sound good. She finished packing everything, locked the trailer, and departed.
Mr. Bauer had paid in advance, so she didn't need to bother him.
It was not a good time. "Hardware store, or paint supply place?
Schaumberg might have one." Going into Riverton with the trailer and all that road construction? Not if she could avoid it.
That evening she sent the balance of Mr. Bauer's payment to her mother's account. The memory care home debited directly from that. The extra barn would cover her expenses, plus her share of the apartment rent back in Jersey for the rest of the summer.
She found the next barn on Sunday afternoon.
The gate stood open, but she didn't turn in.
Instead she studied the building as she waited for two cars to turn the other way.
It wasn't truly old, no. It didn't have the look or "weight" that the old buildings carried with them.
Dark brown, so white or warm cream backgrounds probably.
The lady had been right, it looked about half the size of the Bauer barn.
Good. Less climbing. Traffic started to move, so she continued on her way.
The land behind the house, farmyard, and barn had a woodlot, and maybe a hay meadow.
She couldn't get more than a quick glimpse.
Normal for River County, in other words.
A neatly dressed red and gray man came out to meet her the next day. He wore leather gloves, like nice work gloves, even though it was already warm. "Miss Favarro, welcome," he said, smiling. He had a very nice, almost inviting smile. "I'm glad you could fit us in."
Since he didn't offer his hand, she didn't either. "You are welcome. Which side of the barn, sir? Or one pattern on each side?"
The smile disappeared. "The north, away from the road," came the quick answer. "And less sun fade. Both patterns please. I should have told Dee to tell you."