13. Chapter Thirteen #2
Rafael read it. “You understand this may cost more because we aren’t doing finish work while we have access?”
“Yes.”
“And some choices may stay unfinished for months.”
“Then they stay unfinished.”
***
Days later, the first crew arrived once the papers had cleared. Rafael let Hunter help only after making him trade his soft leather gloves for a scarred work pair.
“Having money doesn’t qualify you to touch old buildings,” Rafael said. “Neither does owning a guitar.”
“I figured the guitar might get me to apprentice level.” Hunter laughed.
“It gets you the wheelbarrow.”
Hunter took it. He carried broken tile from the side path, moved rotted boards to the marked pile, and cleared weeds where Rafael wanted safe access for an engineer.
He wasn’t allowed near the unstable porch.
When he picked up a carved strip of wood from the debris, a crew member told him it was salvage, not trash.
Hunter put it on the tagged stack and stopped assuming he knew what he was looking at.
His phone rang while he was inside the empty inn. Eli’s name appeared on the screen. Hunter stepped away from the crew but stayed where the sound of hammers reached him through the open windows.
“You alive?” Eli asked.
“Depends who’s asking.”
“The man who spent half his morning confirming our people got paid.”
Hunter rested his shoulder against a bare section of wall. “Did they?”
“Every directly contracted musician and crew member got the guaranteed amount. A few think you’re a saint. They’re wrong, but they got paid.”
“Thank you for taking care of that.”
“Where are you?” Eli asked. “That doesn’t sound like the bungalow.”
Hunter told him about Vesper Hill, the sale, and the developer’s plans. He explained the option, the assignment rights, and the work limits. He told Eli that Wendy wouldn’t receive a call, a document, or a request from anyone involved.
“And when the town notices the work trucks?” Eli asked.
“They’ll talk. I can’t control that without controlling the whole town.”
“She may hear,” Eli pointed out.
“I know. But nobody’s carrying the news to her for me. Nobody asks her to come see it. Nobody tells me what she thinks if she does.”
“You sure you can live with that?”
No. Hunter wasn’t sure he could live with any version of anything.
He could imagine Wendy learning about Vesper Hill and seeing only another rich man making a decision over her head.
He could imagine her refusing the option because accepting anything from him felt like a chain.
Worse, he could imagine her accepting it, building every room she once described, and loving a life that had no place for him.
All of those choices were hers.
“I’ll have to,” he said.
Eli released a slow breath. “You sound terrible.”
“That’s kind.”
“You eating?”
“Mostly.”
“Sleeping?”
“Less mostly.”
“Great. The tour gets canceled, I finally have more free time than I know what to do with, and my best friend decides to fall apart alone in wine country.”
Hunter straightened. “Eli…”
“I’m coming up.”
“You don’t have to babysit me.”
“Good, because you don’t pay enough and I don’t know how. I’ll be there before dark.”
“Don’t go near the Loom property.”
“I know what a boundary is, Hunter.”
The words landed without cruelty. That made them hurt more.
“Yeah,” Hunter said. “I’m still learning.”
He returned to work after the call. Sweat darkened his shirt, and dust gathered under the borrowed gloves. No camera recorded him, and no assistant brought water. When he was thirsty, a crew member pointed toward the cooler and told him to get it himself.
Good.
He wasn’t here to be seen doing the work. He was here because it made him feel useful and it helped settle his mind.
Eli arrived as the last edge of sunlight crossed the vineyard. He parked next to Hunter’s truck, stepped out with a duffel bag on his shoulder and work boots on his feet, and took in the tarps, ladders, and piles marked for salvage.
“You bought a ruin,” he said.
“I didn’t buy it.”
“Right. You bought the chance not to buy a ruin.”
“That’s closer.”
Eli abandoned his bag and went to find Rafael at Hunter’s instructions.
Ten minutes later, he was carrying debris beside Hunter without asking another question.
His presence didn’t make the loss of Wendy smaller.
It didn’t excuse anything. It only put another set of footsteps next to Hunter’s while the work continued, and Hunter hadn’t known how badly he needed that.
They’d once loaded their own equipment through narrow doors and played bars where the stage leaned toward the audience.
Eli had known Hunter when neither of them could pay anyone to solve a problem.
Fame had added staff, distance, and rooms full of people trained to agree.
Eli had somehow remained the man who would show up with boots, call Hunter a fool, then lift the other end without pretending the weight wasn’t deserved.
After the crew left, Hunter and Eli stood inside the stripped tasting room. Dust covered the old tile, tagged pieces of wood rested along one wall, and the damaged rear section was sealed against rain. Through the open doors, rows of old vines ran toward the darkening hills.
Eli studied the blank work orders on the folding table.
“What happens if Wendy never walks through these doors?” he asked.
“We save what can be saved,” he said. “We finish only what has to be finished.”
Eli waited.
Hunter faced the empty room again.
“And we leave the rest for Wendy to decide.”