Chapter 24
chapter twenty-four
Reid
There are lots of things to take into consideration when deciding on what kind of wood to use for a project.
Appearance is the most common care for customers and guides a lot of the decision-making processes, things like grain patterns and color and how well the wood absorbs a stain. Cost is the next most important, followed by durability—how much damage can it sustain? How well does it withstand scratches and other wear and tear?
But the thing people don’t think about, almost at all, is maintenance. The kind of work that goes into keeping your piece looking new and beautiful for years, whether it’s for a table or a bookshelf or a chair or anything else.
Of course, on my end, those are things I think about constantly. When I’m making a piece, I try to use the type of wood that most closely aligns with the purpose. For example, I rarely use red oak for a table top, unless a customer specifically requests it, because the grain has a lot of open pores that make it easy for crumbs to get trapped in the surface.
The hardest part is taking two completely different woods and merging them together. Each type requires different care, can carry different loads, and handles wear and tear in completely different ways. Sometimes, though, what comes from finding two pieces that are different but well matched is truly beautiful.
I cross my arms, staring at the new slabs that were just delivered. They’re leaning up against the wall of my shop, and I make mental notes about each one before I hoist them up onto the rack where I let new wedges sit for a few days before I get started. Then I return to the project I’m currently working on: finishing up the last elements of Ellis’ chairs for the buildout at Dock 7.
“What do you think, girl?” I ask Sydney, spreading my arms wide once I’ve finished joining the last pieces together, the beautiful white oak and cedar pieces merging together to form a truly beautiful final product. “Think she’ll be happy?”
Sydney whimpers and rolls over, putting her belly in the air.
“Well, that’s not a good sign.” I laugh, taking a step back to examine my work.
I don’t often use dovetail joints on chairs, but I felt like it would be perfect for this project. It’s decorative but still understated, and with the colored leather Ellis selected, it should provide a nice compliment.
She agrees when she shows up midday to take a look at it.
“Oh, Reid, it’s beautiful,” she says, clasping her hands together and circling around the chair, examining it from every angle. “You’ve really outdone yourself.”
“And all the leather covers came in earlier this week,” I say, stepping back into my office to grab the sample cushion I set up. “What do you think?”
Ellis gasps again, reaching out to touch it then taking it in her hands. “Wow.” She rubs her hands across the soft material, humming softly. “It’s perfect.”
I smile. “I’m so glad you like it. If you don’t want any changes, I can take the second deposit and get started on the remaining chairs. I’ll have more than enough time to get them to you before the buildout is completed in October.”
“Please consider this my official thumbs-up,” she says, laughing. “I can’t wait to see them all together.”
We head to my office to handle payment, but when we’re done and I expect Ellis to head out, she settles more comfortably into the chair on the opposite side of my desk and gives me a cheeky smile.
“So, Reid, is it true you’re dating Busy Mitchell?”
I chuckle awkwardly. “Why do you ask?”
Ellis shrugs. “Well, I’m a woman who likes her gossip,” she says, honestly. “And it would be nice to have something to share with the ladies at The Pines when I head over for my weekly bridge game tomorrow.”
My lips twist as I try to hide my own smile. “We’re spending time together,” I reply, trying not to share too much without having cleared it with Busy first. I know she’s a little self-conscious of everyone in town talking about her business, and I don’t want to be the cause of that.
“What does that mean?” Ellis asks, with a titter of a laugh.
It’s been almost two weeks since our hike to Kilroy, since our conversation in her kitchen, and we’ve spent almost every evening together, sitting out on the deck or snuggled on the couch, just talking about life and diving into the deep with each other. I feel like Busy and I have talked about things most people don’t get into until they’ve been together for months, if not years.
I’ve cherished every single moment, even the hard ones, when we’ve discussed what my future looks like and the pain both of us have been through in the past. It feels real and honest and true, and it makes me fall more and more in love with her every damn day.
But I’m not going to say that to Ellis.
“It means…Busy is very important to me,” I answer.
More than just important. Busy is everything.
“Well, I know how you young folks like to pretend you’re not dating. My granddaughter calls it ‘hanging out’, which is ridiculous,” she says, rolling her eyes.
I can’t help but laugh.
“But while you’re ‘hanging out’, don’t forget that every girl wants to feel like the most important woman in the room every once in a while.” She pats my hand and stands. “Don’t forget to woo her.”
Ellis takes a few minutes to admire her chair one more time before I walk her out. But when we get to the door, she stops again and gives me a kind look.
“I just wanted to let you know,” she tells me, “I’ve seen your grandfather work this shop, and I’ve seen your father work this shop, and I think both of them would be really proud of you and what you’ve done with this place over the past few years.”
I give her a quiet smile. “Thanks, Ellis.”
“Have a good day, sweetie. And keep me posted on my chairs.”
She puts on a huge pair of sunglasses and struts through the door, and I can’t help but smile to myself. She really is something else.
I spin around, looking back at the handful of half-finished projects I need to work on before admitting I need to get some admin work done and heading back to my office. I think about what Ellis said for the rest of the day, her words ringing more and more true as the hours pass.
By the time I’m ready to close up for the day, I’m like a man on a mission, and after I lock up, I head over to Main Street and down to Happily Ever After. I spot Busy through the window, her eyes connecting with mine. She grins at me as I pull the door open and walk right over to where she stands behind the counter.
“Hey, you! What are you—”
I slip my hand into her hair and tug her forward, pressing a kiss to her lips. When I pull back, her eyes are soft.
“What was that for?” she whispers.
“Busy Mitchell, will you go on a date with me on Saturday night?”
Her lips tilt up on the side. “Like out to dinner?”
I nod. “Yeah. Like out to dinner.”
“Only if you promise to kiss me like this while we’re waiting for our table.”
Chuckling, I kiss her again. “More than happy to do that.”
I release my hold on her neck and take a step back, and Busy’s eyes glance around the store behind me. When I turn around, I spot a woman standing in the romance section, holding a book against her chest and staring at us with a gooey smile.
“I just have to see if my mom or Briar can watch Junie,” Busy says, adjusting the postcards and flyers I bumped when I pulled her over the counter.
“Okay. And if they can’t, Junie can come on the date, too.”
Busy laughs. “You don’t want a two-year-old at a restaurant. Trust me. It takes a lot of work.”
“Well, since I’m gonna know that kid for the rest of my life, and I intend to take you out to dinner on a regular basis, we should probably start practicing. Make sure she learns.”
Her nostrils flare, and her eyes get glassy. “You just know how to say all the right things, don’t you?”
And then she laughs and rounds the counter to kiss me again.
When my phone rings on Saturday night when I’m getting ready for my date with Busy, I consider ignoring it, but when I see it’s my mother, I answer.
“Hey, mom.”
“Well, hello there, son of mine,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice through the speaker.
“What are you up to?”
“Oh, just lounging by the pool at our hotel. We’ve been in New York City for the past week. But that’s not why I’m calling.” She pauses. “A little birdie told me you’re dating Busy Mitchell. Is that true?”
I finish trimming up the edges of my mustache then slather some lotion on my hands and moisturize my face.
“It is true,” I reply, leaning toward the mirror and giving myself a long hard look. “And even though I should be pissed that you talked to her without my permission, I guess I have you and your meddling to thank for it.”
“Well, I’ve never been so glad to have my meddling pay off, because I was prepared for you to cut me out of your life forever.”
I grab the phone and head into my room, tugging my closet door open.
“I would never cut you out of my life, mom. We have our disagreements, and…I’ve had to process a few things, but I love you. That will never change.”
She clears her throat, a telltale sign that she’s trying not to cry.
“So…how’s New York?” I ask, selecting one of my few dress shirts and slipping it on. Then, after a pause: “How’s Vance?”
There’s a beat before my mother responds.
“It’s amazing. We’ve been bouncing around from restaurant to restaurant, trying all the best, most delicious meals. I swear, Vance is going to have to roll me onto the plane when we leave in a few days.”
I chuckle, finishing up the last few buttons on my shirt. I honestly can’t remember the last time I got dressed like this—maybe for my dad’s funeral two years ago—and I’m wondering if I should do it more often. I clean up nice.
“We’re having a great time,” she says with a happiness in her voice that I haven’t heard in a long time.
“Well, I have to admit, I’m a little jealous,” I tell her. “I’ve always wanted to go to New York.”
“Maybe we can plan a trip there together someday,” she says, sounding hopeful. “The four of us, or maybe five, if you two want to bring Junie along.”
I nod, though I know she can’t see me. “That might be fun.”
There’s a long pause on the other end of the line, and then my mother clears her throat. “Well, baby, I don’t want to keep you. I know you have a busy night ahead of you…”
I groan, and my mother laughs.
“…so you go have fun.”
“Thanks, mom. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”