Chapter 19
The fireplace had been hidden for more than eighty years. Dave still couldn’t understand why anyone had covered it.
He stood in the main events room of the arts center, studying the stonework that he and Hank had uncovered that morning. At some point, someone had built a stud wall across the entire section, leaving no clue that anything interesting existed behind it.
Now, with most of the drywall and framing removed, the original fireplace was visible again.
Dust coated the hearth, and several of the stones had loosened around the opening.
The old wooden mantel had disappeared years ago, leaving a row of fixing holes in the stone.
But the proportions were good, and the craftsmanship was better than anything they could afford to reproduce.
Hank ran a stiff brush across the mortar joints. “Beth’s going to love this.”
Dave smiled. “She will.”
Beth hadn’t seen it yet. She and Natalie were at a meeting with the council’s community development committee, going over the requirements for the center’s opening. They weren’t expected back until late afternoon.
For once, Dave was grateful. He’d been thinking about Beth far too much since Cedar Ridge, and having her in the building would only make it worse.
Hank glanced over his shoulder. “You two looked pretty cozy when you got back on Saturday.”
Dave stopped scraping old mortar from between two stones. Hank had given them a hand to unload the furniture. “We unloaded furniture. With you. So you know exactly what we were doing.”
Hank nodded. “I also saw you standing beside her truck talking for ten minutes after everything was unloaded.”
Dave returned to the fireplace. “We had things to talk about.”
“Apparently.”
Dave sighed. “Just say whatever you’re trying to say.”
Hank’s grin appeared briefly before he went back to work. “I’ve seen you two around town.”
“We live in the same town,” Dave muttered.
“You’ve been to the Fairy Forest together.” Hank said matter-of-factly. “You’ve had dinner. You went to Cedar Ridge. Rosa saw the two of you having coffee last week.”
“Half of those things were work.”
“And the other half?”
Dave didn’t answer.
Hank chuckled and reached for the vacuum.
For several minutes they worked without talking. Hank cleared decades of dust from the hearth while Dave carefully removed a piece of loose mortar. There was something satisfying about uncovering the fireplace one section at a time. The soot marks above the opening suggested it had been used often.
Dave wondered how many people had stood in front of it warming their hands through a Montana winter.
“You’ve gone quiet,” Hank said.
“I’m working.”
Hank shook his head. “No. You’re thinking.”
Dave set the chisel down. There was no point pretending because Hank knew him too well. “I like her.”
Hank switched off the vacuum. “Beth?”
“No, Beverly from the Historical Society.”
“I wondered.”
Dave laughed despite himself. “Yes. Beth.”
Hank waited a few seconds before answering. “I think everyone knows.”
Dave shook his head. Small towns were useful when you needed three volunteers and a ladder within twenty minutes. They were less useful when you were trying to figure out your personal life.
He picked up the brush and worked dust out of another mortar joint. “Saturday was different.”
Hank waited.
Dave appreciated that. For all his teasing, Hank knew when to stop talking. “We stopped for lunch on the way back from Cedar Ridge. Nothing fancy. Just a diner beside the highway.”
Hank emptied the vacuum cleaner. “That doesn’t explain the face you’re making.”
Dave frowned. “What face?”
“The one that says the food isn’t what you’re remembering.”
Dave looked at the fireplace instead of his friend. He’d talked to Beth about everything. Things that didn’t matter and things that mattered enormously. Mostly, though, Dave remembered how easy it had been.
“We had a good time,” he said.
Hank turned to Dave. “And that’s an issue?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do. I’m waiting for you to realize it.”
Dave brushed another layer of dust from the stone. “Beth said something at lunch that’s been stuck in my head. She said what she misses about marriage isn’t the important occasions. It’s having somebody around for all the ordinary parts.”
Hank’s expression softened.
“I knew exactly what she meant,” Dave continued. “Carol and I didn’t spend thirty-four years having romantic dinners and taking vacations. Most of the time we were paying bills, mowing lawns, taking Mark somewhere, or deciding what to have for dinner.”
Hank nodded. “And arguing about whose turn it was to empty the dishwasher.”
“It was always my turn,” Dave said quietly.
“Smart woman.”
Dave smiled. Then his smile faded. “I could imagine doing those things with Beth.”
There was the truth of it. Not some sweeping romance he wasn’t sure he even knew how to have anymore.
He could imagine Beth sitting at his kitchen table while he cooked. Her coat hanging beside his. Her telling him he’d bought the wrong kind of milk and reorganizing something in his kitchen because his system made no sense. The images came far too easily.
And he wanted them far too much.
Hank picked up a small pry bar and began removing a strip of timber still attached to the stone. “So, what’s the problem?”
Dave stared at him. “You know what the problem is.”
“I knew what it was a few weeks ago,” Hank told him. “I’m not sure I do anymore.”
Dave rested his hands on his knees. “Carol and I had nearly four decades together. I knew how to be her husband. I knew when she wanted advice and when she wanted me to keep my mouth shut. I knew what made her laugh and what would annoy her before I’d even done it.
” He shook his head. “With Beth, I don’t know any of that. ”
Hank blew some lose mortar away. “You aren’t supposed to.”
Dave frowned.
“You’re talking as though there’s going to be an exam.” Hank pulled the timber free and tossed it onto the scrap pile. “You’re getting to know a woman, Dave. That’s all.”
“It doesn’t feel like that’s all.”
“No,” Hank told him. “Because you care what happens.”
Dave couldn’t argue with that. He crouched beside the hearth and examined one of the loose stones. “I nearly kissed her after the council meeting.”
Hank went completely still.
Dave looked up. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
Hank stepped away from the fireplace, then reached for a small chisel. “I was going to ask why you didn’t kiss her.”
Dave sat back on his heels. “Because I wasn’t sure.”
“About Beth?”
“About myself.”
Hank nodded slowly.
Dave appreciated that he didn’t tell him what Carol would have wanted. People had done that after she died, always with the best intentions. Carol would want you to be happy. Carol wouldn’t want you to be alone.
Maybe they were right, but Carol wasn’t here to ask. “I’ve got a good life,” Dave said. “It took me a long time to get here. Mark and I are closer. I’ve got friends. Work. I’m not sitting at home miserable.”
Hank nodded. “I know.”
“So why change it?” Dave asked.
Hank studied him for a moment. “Because you’re already changing it.”
Dave frowned.
“You’re leaving work to have coffee with Beth,” Hank said. “You’re volunteering for jobs because you know she’ll be there. You’re talking about her when she’s nowhere near the conversation.” Hank nodded toward him. “And you smiled when I said she’d love this fireplace.”
Dave looked at the stones.
He had.
Hank returned to scraping the old timber fixings from the wall. “You keep thinking there’s a decision coming. I don’t think there is. I think you’re already halfway down the road and you’re standing there pretending you haven’t left home.”
Dave was quiet. That was annoyingly close to the truth. “What am I supposed to do?”
Hank’s eyes widened. “Why are you asking me?”
“You’ve been giving me advice for the last twenty minutes.”
“I’ve been pointing out the obvious.”
Dave laughed. “Fine. Point out one more obvious thing.”
Hank considered it. “Same advice as last time. Talk to her.”
“We talk all the time.”
Hank snorted. “About everything except this.”
Dave looked at him.
Hank shrugged. “You don’t need to tell her you’re madly in love with her. You don’t even know if you are. But stop hiding behind work and friendship every time you want to spend time with her.”
That landed harder than Dave expected. He’d done exactly that with Cedar Ridge. Beth had asked whether he needed help, and he’d accepted before she’d finished offering. Then he’d spent the entire day pretending it was nothing more than collecting furniture.
“What if she doesn’t want anything more?” he asked Hank.
“Then you respect that.”
“And if she does?”
Hank grinned. “Then you take her somewhere nicer than a diner beside a gas station.”
Dave shook his head, smiling.
They returned to work.
Little by little, the fireplace emerged from beneath decades of neglect. Dave cleaned another stone, exposing warm gray beneath the grime. He stood and stepped back. The fireplace wasn’t perfect. There were chips in the stone and stains that would never completely disappear.
None of that mattered. It had character. History. And it deserved to be seen again.
Hank stood beside him. “Not bad.”
“No,” Dave agreed. “Not bad at all.”
He imagined Beth walking through the door later and seeing it. He already knew what would happen. Her face would light up. She’d come straight across the room, ask a dozen questions, and probably have three ideas for how they could make the fireplace part of the arts center.
And Dave would stand here enjoying every second of it. And for once, he wasn’t going to pretend otherwise.