Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
B y the time Trinity and the kids had left, it was the point in the day when the construction crew working on Spencer’s house usually called it quits. Spencer always tried to give them their space during work hours. That was easy enough to do since the location of his future home was several acres from the main ranch house. That was by design. Even though he owned a large portion of the land, he didn’t want to encroach on his grandmother’s space. She’d resided in the same house for so long, with the same unobstructed view outside her back window that he didn’t want to do anything to alter that.
So, when they marked out the dimensions for his new homestead, he made sure to keep it out of the line of sight from the ranch house. He’d wanted his space, too. Yes, this would technically be what many might consider a bachelor pad since Spencer was currently single, but he hoped that that might change one day. He wanted to make sure there would be plenty of room for swing sets and sandboxes and all the space for his future children to roam without getting in the way of the guests at the ranch house. He’d wanted his own oasis. And within the next week or two, he would have it.
“How’d things go today, Darrell?” Spencer asked the foreman, joining him at the tailgate of the construction worker’s truck. “Still on schedule?”
“We actually ran into a hiccup with the electrician.” The man pulled off his hardhat and tossed it into his truck bed. “Apparently, the office double booked him for another job down in Sacramento this week. It’ll put us back a few days, but we should be able to make it up.”
Spencer had accounted for unforeseen setbacks like these. It was why he hadn’t committed the move-in date to heart, knowing flexibility was the name of the game when it came to construction. Still, he wanted to be in the house before snow season. He didn’t have a lot to move into the place but getting settled before the holidays was his hope.
“Anything I can do to speed things along?” he asked. His years as a cattle rancher obviously didn’t make him an expert at home building, but he had a work ethic that had been born from perseverance and dedication. He could roll up his sleeves and lend a hand where necessary.
“Nope. Me and my guys have it under control. But I will need to get those wall colors from you soon. We’ll be ready to paint late next week.”
That was where Spencer could actually use some help. He’d had a difficult enough time selecting the granite for the countertops and the tile for the bathroom floors. Luckily, most of the structure was wood, with big logs and beams that made it feel more like a cabin than a house. But there were portions of the home that were sheetrocked, and they would obviously need to be painted.
“Email Tammy at the office once you’ve got those picked out,” Darrell said as he got into his truck and buckled up. “See you back here tomorrow, bright and early.”
“See you then.” Spencer clapped the hood of the vehicle before it roared to life and backed out, a string of other white construction trucks following behind like a herd of horses on the move. He waited until they’d made it all the way down to the main road before turning toward the home. His home.
When he’d been ranching, he had lived in a fifth wheel. At the time, it was all he needed. Honestly, he liked the flexibility of being able to hitch it to his truck and move it about the acreage, settling in near the mama cows during calving season, a sick heifer that needed attention, or wherever the work required. Being portable was ideal.
But ever since he’d moved back to Snowdrift, he’d wanted deeper roots.
At first, he was content in staying in a room in Nana’s ranch house. That place had always felt like home, anyways. He and his twin sister, Clara, had spent so many summers in that house. So many of his youthful memories were made within those very walls.
But the ranch house was more than just a family home now. It offered lodging to travelers visiting the Sierras, and occupying a room that his grandmother could easily rent out didn’t make any sense.
With Nana Jo’s blessing, he carved out his own section of land, met with an architect, and hired a construction crew. The process had been smoother than expected, despite the occasional hitch or delay like the one with the electrician. And as the walls of his new home began to rise, Spencer found himself growing more and more eager each and every day. It wasn’t just about having a place to call his own; it was about putting down permanent roots in a place that held so much meaning for him.
But building a home was one thing. Creating a life within it was something else entirely.
And selecting a paint color was another animal altogether.
He stopped back by the ranch house on his way to the hardware store, hoping his grandmother might be inside and volunteer to go with him. She had an opinion on everything, and he doubted she’d be silent in expressing her paint color of choice. Right now, he welcomed that opinionated spirit.
Instead, he located her out in the barn, checking on Bluebell with a bucket full of carrots perched on her hip. He knew this was where she was really needed right now, making sure the mare was adjusting well and treating her to a well-deserved snack.
“You don’t need my help,” she assured, offering an open palm holding a bright orange carrot to the horse. “Just go with your gut.”
“So electric blue it is,” Spencer teased. He leaned against the wooden railing of the horse stall, resting his forearms on its sturdy top.
“Okay, maybe don’t go with your gut.” She snickered at her grandson. “If there happens to be a woman in the paint aisle, ask her to help you narrow down your selection. I do think that new place of yours could use a woman’s touch.”
Spencer highly doubted he’d find a woman standing in the paint aisle. Sam’s Hardware was a small store nestled in the Sierras that specialized mostly in the essentials for rustic living. Rows of snow shovels, firewood bundles, and snow camping gear adorned its aisles in the winter, while gardening tools, fishing supplies, and outdoor grills took precedence during the warmer months. They boasted a modest section of builder grade appliances and fixtures, so he assumed their paint section would be equally sparce.
However, as he parked his truck in the lot and hurried into the store, he was taken aback by the vibrant wall of color swatches, resembling something out of a kaleidoscope.
“When did you folks get all of this done?” He asked Zeke Hart, the retired fire chief who had recently taken on a part time job at the store to “keep himself young.”
“Just last week. Sam recently partnered with Aura Paint, and they sent us all of this.” Zeke waved his hand over the spectrum of colors like a magician showcasing his array of tricks. “It’ll be a miracle if I can actually learn how to use this big old contraption that actually mixes the paint, but supposedly, these are all of our options. Something like eight hundred and seventy-four to choose from.”
That was eight hundred and seventy-three more than Spencer needed.
“You got just plain white?”
Zeke’s fingers stroked his handlebar mustache thoughtfully. “Nope. But we do have diamond dove, satin swan, cotton crane?—”
“I’m sensing a theme.”
“Opal owl.” The man chuckled. “Don’t get me started on the blues. Juniper jay, sapphire sparrow, royal robin.”
“Nothing in there that just says builder-grade white?” Spencer was quickly becoming overwhelmed.
“This is a premium brand, made for a premium painting experience.” Zeke came around the counter to stand next to Spencer, the two men facing the big wall of bird-inspired paint swatches. “Choosing a color for your new place?”
“That’s the goal,” Spencer replied. “Maybe I should just close my eyes and point.”
“If you can narrow it down to three or four options, I’m happy to see if I can figure out the machine to mix up some sample size cans for you to take back to your place and try out on the wall. You’ll want to look at them in all the different kinds of lighting, times of day, etc. Shades can really shift on you.”
This was turning into an even bigger ordeal than Spencer had anticipated.
“Don’t forget,” Zeke pointed out as Spencer paced the aisle, “There are more options on the next aisle over.”
Seriously? No one needed this many options when it came to paint. Even still, Spencer rounded the corner, surprised not only to see the samples wrap around to the other side, but also to glimpse a familiar face, one that looked equally as daunted as he.
Trinity stood in front of a sea of browns, looking at several swatches in her hands, her lips silently moving as she compared colors.
“Hey,” he greeted her softly, hoping not to startle her.
Her head snapped up and she gasped, even with his quiet entry. “Oh, Spencer.” The swatches slipped from her fingers and fluttered to the floor. “I didn’t even see you there.”
“Let me.” Spencer dropped to his knee to retrieve the samples before she could make an attempt to. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He passed them back to her, his hand lingering as their fingers touched. He yanked his hand back and jammed it into his pocket. “Doing some painting?”
“I’m on a mission to find the perfect shade of brown for my daughter’s turkey costume. It’s for the fall festival at her school.”
“I’m surprised there isn’t one labeled tawny turkey ,” Spencer remarked with a chuckle. “Seems like every color has some sort of bird reference in it.”
“You know? I did notice that.” She smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “But sadly, no tawny turkey to be found in the bunch. Just russet raven, chestnut chickadee, and walnut wren.” Her brow line drew together. “Are turkeys even brown?” she asked, second-guessing herself. “Or are they black?”
“I think you can use a little creative license when it comes to costumes,” Spencer assured her. He was surprised to find Trinity here in the paint aisle at the hardware store and not the fabric aisle at the sewing shop. Growing up, his nana had always made the kid’s costumes for church and school plays, spending hours with her thread and needle in hand.
“I want it to be perfect,” Trinity said earnestly. “Mia deserves it.”
Spencer noted Trinity’s dedication to her children, recognizing it went beyond motherly responsibility. There was something else there, a desire to make sure her kids got the best of everything. He was well aware of the tragedy they’d experienced, even though he hadn’t been living in Snowdrift at the time. But he often wondered who was looking out for Trinity, ensuring she also received the happiness she deserved.
“It’ll be perfect just because you’re taking the time to make it. Figured most parents just order costumes online these days,” he said.
“Some do.” Trinity shrugged. “But don’t go thinking I’m some costume-making saint. That would be my first choice. But Mia specifically asked that I make it, so here I am.” Looking up at Spencer, she said, “What about you? I don’t take it you’re selecting paint for a fall festival costume, are you?”
“A slightly bigger project.” His eyebrows waggled. “I’m trying to find the right color to paint the walls of my new place.”
“The house that’s under construction at the ranch? That’s yours?”
“It is.”
Something crossed over her features. “I didn’t realize you were moving back here permanently.”
Sure, Spencer had been in Snowdrift for several months now, but he could see how she might think his stay wasn’t long term. When he was younger, he would often come back for the summer months, only to leave again in the fall.
“It’s a permanent move,” he confirmed. “I actually own most of the ranch now.” Was it too much for him to disclose that information? He wondered if it had been public knowledge. The last thing he wanted was to come across as showy.
“I’d heard that but wasn’t clear on the details. That’s really exciting, Spencer. Building your own home—must be a dream come true.”
“Parts are. Other parts keep me up at night, like this whole paint selection thing.” He looked back at the color swatches, wonder if a basic white was too simple a tone.
“You should just pick a few and test them out on the walls. Look at them during different times of the day.”
“That’s what Zeke suggested.”
“He would be right. Paint colors can be deceiving, and they all have different undertones. Are you looking for something warmer? Cooler?”
“I honestly couldn’t even tell you what I’m looking for,” he confessed, hoping it didn’t make him sound too pathetic.
“I could help.”
He tried not to visibly react to that offer, but it did make him jolt. “Really?”
She smiled widely. “I’d like to think I have a good eye for that sort of thing.”
There was no doubt, she obviously did. He’d seen many of the beautiful arrangements she had delivered to the ranch. Trinity had a true talent for creating beauty.
“If you’re offering…”
“I’m offering,” she confirmed, that smile deepening. “I’d like to actually see the inside of the place first, though. If that’s not too much trouble.”
“It’s no trouble at all. I’m there every day.”
“I’m busy tonight, but maybe I could come by after my shift tomorrow? The shop closes at six and I’m usually out of there by 6:30. I could see if my parents are available to watch the kiddos and then be over at your?—”
“Bring them,” Spencer interrupted.
“Bring my kids? To your house that’s currently under construction?”
Was that a bad idea? It wasn’t like there were nails and screws and other dangers lying around. They were far enough ahead in the building process that the floors were swept clean and the debris removed.
“It’s safe, and?—”
“Oh, I’m not worried about the safety aspect. I’m worried about the pestering potential. As you saw this afternoon, Liam is a little…”—she searched for the word—“clingy.”
“Didn’t find him clingy at all.” He hadn’t. The child was endearing if anything. “Seriously, bring them.”
“It’ll be right during dinner, and you don’t want to be around them when their tired and hungry. They aren’t at their best.”
“We can have a picnic.” Spencer wasn’t sure why he kept on insisting, but the offers fell from his lips before he could screen them.
“Really?” Trinity looked stunned by that proposition. “A picnic in your half-built house?”
“If you don’t think they’d like it?—”
“I think they’d love it. I’m just not sure that you would want to deal with all that mess. The crumbs and the?—”
“Trinity, like you said, it’s under construction .”
“You really sure about this?”
He nodded, “Absolutely.”
In fact, he hadn’t been so sure of anything in a long, long while.