Chapter Seven
Parker
“Y ou look like shit,” Anson says as I emerge from the bathroom.
“Thanks, and good morning to you too,” I say as I run a towel over my head.
He’s standing at the stove, stirring a pan of scrambled eggs.
“So, how’s the new job?” he asks as I toss the towel over the back of the recliner and plop down on a stool at the kitchen island.
We’ve been roommates since returning to Sandcastle Cove. For a steal, we rent this two-bedroom, two-bath condo on the beach from my aunt and uncle. It used to be a seasonal rental and raked in a small fortune for years, but as he got older, Uncle Grady grew weary of the management and upkeep. So, in exchange for our extremely cheap rent, Anson and I have been working on the old place. We added the new deck, resurfaced the old fireplace, added a new gas log insert, and restored the original floor. Our next project—redoing both bathrooms—is a big one and requires the help of our friend, Wade.
Wade went to school with Sebastian’s brother, Lennon. He owns Lusk Contracting. He does it all—from remodeling homes to building additions. He did a lot of the work on Sebastian and Avie’s beach house last year.
“Good, but I’m fucking exhausted,” I tell him.
Last night was my first time working without Audrey’s supervision. She’d stayed glued to my side the first three nights, but she cut me loose to work the bar with Leonard on Sunday night so she could get some rest. It took the two of us twice as long to clean up and close down as it would Audrey. We didn’t leave Whiskey Joe’s until almost four in the morning.
The woman is a machine.
Anson slides a cup of coffee and a plate of eggs in front of me.
“That’s what you get for volunteering to be Audrey’s bitch,” he says.
“Whatever, asshole,” I say as he hands me a fork.
He loads a plate for himself and brings it to the island opposite me.
“You could have slept in, you know. I’m sure Wade could come by later.”
“I’m fine. I don’t want to waste an entire day off in bed.”
In the offseason, Anson and I can work on projects. I don’t want my need to help her—to be with her—to disrupt our plans.
Wade is knocking at the door by the time we finish our breakfast, and the three of us sit at the dining table with a set of plans Wade drew up for the remodel.
“Can we take out this wall and expand into the laundry room? I’d like to add a soaking tub to the master en suite,” I say.
Anson quirks a brow. “A soaking tub?”
“Yeah, I think a soaking tub would add value to the place. Any woman interested in buying would love that feature.”
Wade glances at the blueprints of the condo. “It shouldn’t be a problem if you’re willing to sacrifice about four feet of laundry space,” he says.
“Wouldn’t bother me,” I say.
“But it’d probably bother that future woman buyer you’re referencing,” Anson says.
I look up from the papers strewn across the table to him. “You think so?”
“He’s right. Eden just had me do an addition to the second-story laundry room at my place. She wanted a sink, shelves, and a folding station,” Wade says.
Eden is Wade’s new bride.
“I didn’t realize that was a thing. Seems silly,” I mumble.
“It doesn’t make sense—it’s just a place to wash your dirty clothes—but women don’t make sense ninety-nine percent of the time,” Anson agrees.
“I have an idea,” Wade says as he picks up a drafting pencil. “We could move the connections and replace the current washer and dryer with a stackable full-sized set. Then add shelves to the sides with a small folding table under them. That should give us the footage we need without too much sacrifice.”
He sketches the new design on top of the drawing.
“I like that,” I say. “How much would that cost?”
“I’d guess about twenty-five hundred more, plus the cost of the tub, washer, and dryer,” he estimates.
I nod. “I’ll talk to Uncle Grady about it and let you know,” I say.
“Sounds good. We’re only doing one at a time, so you guys aren’t toilet-less. What about the rest?” he asks.
“I like it.”
“Good. I’ll have my crew come and start the demo on the guest bathroom tomorrow. Just have Grady call me,” Wade says as he stands.
“Tomorrow? Let’s tear some shit up today,” Anson offers.
“Sorry, buddy. Eden has a doctor’s appointment at one, and I’m supposed to pick her up at the studio in half an hour.”
Eden is expecting their first child. A baby girl. He has a teenage son, Dillon, from his first marriage. The three of them are over the moon and anxiously awaiting the new arrival.
“Tell her we said hello,” I say as I stand and walk him to the door.
When I turn back, Anson looks at me funny.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he says as he pours a cup of coffee.
“I know that look. Go ahead and say it.”
He shrugs. “You’re awfully concerned about the comfort of a woman living here all of a sudden. That wouldn’t have anything to do with your new boss, would it?”
“I’m just looking out for my aunt and uncle. I want to ensure they put their money where they’ll get the most return for the investment.”
“If you say so,” he says as he blows over his mug.
“Why would it have anything to do with Brew?”
He chuckles. “You know that’s not the boss I’m referring to. You planning to finally shoot your shot or what?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Just finish your coffee and shower so you and I can run over to the farm to talk to Uncle Grady.”
I’ve managed to save a nice nest egg. Sebby compensates us well; instead of a fixed salary, he provides us with a percentage of the profits. For each charter booked, he divides the earnings with a sixty-forty split—the house receives sixty percent while the employees share the remaining forty percent. Charters typically range from twelve hundred dollars to twenty-four hundred dollars each, and during the season, we can complete four to five charters a day, whereas in the offseason, we might have a couple each week. Additionally, we accept tips, and some customers are quite generous.
Last month, I sat down with Uncle Grady and made him an offer to buy the condo. To find the best insurance rate after his current policy doubled, he’d had the condo appraised last summer. The property was valued at just over seven hundred thousand dollars. They’d originally purchased it for only one hundred fifty thousand back in the ’80s, which was quite a good investment. I offered to buy it at the full appraisal amount, but he refused. Instead, he offered to sell it to me for half the price. I tried to argue, but he insisted that since he and my aunt never had children of their own, my sisters, Rainey and Presley, and I were the closest family they had, so they wanted me to have the condo, and they planned to use the proceeds from the sale to pay off Rainey and Presley’s student loans.
I haven’t told Anson about the purchase yet, but he’ll find out today when we pick up Uncle Grady and the three of us meet his attorney for lunch to discuss the closing.