Chapter 5
Chapter Five
By the third morning, Maude had accepted two things as fact. One, her tiny house was officially very tiny with her brother in it. And two, Robbie woke up surprisingly early. Like, so much earlier than she’d ever imagined he got up.
She supposed that came from working construction and starting at the crack of dawn. Still, it was so weird living with an early bird when she was most definitely a midnight owl. Or whatever it was.
He sat sketching at the little breakfast bar part of her kitchen counter, coffee mug in one hand, a legal pad in the other, when Maude came out of the bedroom.
“You’re up,” she said as a yawn took over. At least he’d had the decency to make coffee.
“I am,” Robbie replied. “I’ve been awake since five fifty-three. There’s only so much ceiling a man can stare at before he gives in.”
Maude poured herself coffee and leaned against the counter, doing her best to form sentences as the last haze of sleep slowly drifted away. “Occupational hazard of working construction all those years, huh?”
“For sure,” he said. “But I like being up early. Gives you a lot of daylight to get stuff done.”
She slid into the chair next to him. “Daylight doesn’t matter when you work indoors.”
Robbie smiled, undeterred. “I suppose. Okay, new topic. Arts and crafts fair. Saturday, four and a half weeks from now. That gives me…” He glanced at his legal pad. “Thirty-five days if I don’t count the days I need to sleep.”
“You have to count the sleep days,” Maude said firmly.
He made a face. “Still. I need things that look impressive but won’t take three months to craft.”
“What have you got so far?” she asked.
He turned the pad toward her. “Small tables. End tables, mostly. A couple of floating shelves. More of those Florida-shaped charcuterie boards, maybe.”
“No maybe about those. At least three of my friends want them. And people always buy stuff like that,” Maude said. “They don’t have to think about where to put them. And they make great gifts.”
“That’s what I figured,” Robbie said. “And benches. Not big ones. More…entryway sized.”
Maude nodded. “I’d think those would sell so long they look sturdy. People want ‘solid’ even if they don’t know what they mean by it.”
“Agreed.” Robbie’s pencil paused. “What about price points?”
“Have a mix,” she said. “One or two statement pieces, like a beautiful dining table. Then a handful of mid-range things. A good chair, a side table. And a bunch of smaller items like the charcuterie boards, some stepstools, maybe. Anything that could be an impulse buy. The kinds of things that don’t require too much thinking. ”
He scribbled notes. “I don’t want it to feel like junk.”
“Then don’t make junk,” Maude said. “Make a couple really good things you’re actually proud of.”
Robbie looked up. “Even if they don’t sell?”
“Especially if they don’t sell,” she said. “Use them to show what you can do. You can take orders. Even offer to do custom sizes.”
He leaned back, considering. “You think people would really order something off a sample?”
“I think if people can see something, it helps them visualize it, so yes. They want to know they’re not committing to something that might end up being a mistake,” Maude said.
“If they see a table that’s perfect, they’ll want one in their own size.
People love the idea of something made just for them. Something exclusive, you know?”
Robbie’s expression shifted like he was thinking bigger now, really getting excited. “Custom orders would be great. I could offer different woods. Finishes.”
“And custom means people understand they’ll have to wait for it,” Maude added. “Which means you can deliver on your own schedule. That would give you income and breathing room. You’d have to at least take a non-refundable deposit to cover the costs of materials, don’t you think?”
He exhaled slowly, eyes gleaming. “Yeah. That would make this all really doable.”
Maude took a sip of coffee, watching him grab hold of something that seemed very much like confidence instead of desperation.
“It is doable. You just have to resist the urge to prove you can do everything at once. Plus, I can have a website for you up and running in like a day. We can get some business cards made and you’ll look as legit as any other business there.
Which you will be. It’s totally doable.”
He smiled at her. “You’re good at this.”
“At being a big sister?” she asked.
“At seeing the bigger picture. At figuring out how to make sense of everything,” he said.
She shrugged. “I’ve had practice. And a lot of wrong turns.”
Robbie tapped the pencil against the pad. “All right. A few statement pieces. Cutting and charcuterie boards for easy sales. Orders for the rest.”
“And we’ll figure out where to stack wood that doesn’t involve tripping over it at three in the morning,” Maude said, glancing around the tiny space.
He laughed. “See? Already solving problems.”
Maude smiled into her coffee before nodding toward the legal pad. “There’s one more thing we haven’t talked about.”
Robbie sighed. “Yeah, I know. Space.”
“Yes,” she said. “Because as much as I love you, I don’t want to collide with a half-built table in the middle of the night.”
He smirked. “Fair.”
“I also don’t want you trying to sand something on my porch,” she added. “The neighbors already side-eye me for having too many packages delivered.”
Robbie leaned back in his chair. “I was thinking about that. I can’t exactly turn your living room into a woodshop. And working under the carport isn’t the best idea, either.”
“No,” Maude agreed. “Also, if I find sawdust on my floor, you’re going to be on permanent cleanup duty. I’m not kidding. Which is why a storage unit might be the smartest short-term solution.”
He frowned. “Those are just for boxes of crap people can’t stand to throw out, though, aren’t they?”
“Some of them,” she said. “But there are climate-controlled ones where people do light work. No heavy machinery, no fire, nothing loud.”
“I’d still need power,” he said. “And room to move around.”
Maude shrugged. “I’m sure a place like that exists. Worst-case, it’s a place to store finished pieces and materials so they’re not…here.” She gestured around the room.
Robbie considered that. “It would mentally help, too. Separate work from sleeping-in-my -sister’s-loft.”
“Exactly,” she said. “It might help keep this from feeling temporary in a bad way.”
He nodded slowly. “I don’t want to feel like I’m squatting. Which I sort of already do.”
“You’re not,” Maude said firmly. “But having a space that’s yours might make it easier to treat this like a real business instead of an experiment you’re half-embarrassed about.”
He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “I don’t love the idea of paying rent on something that might not pan out.”
“I don’t love the idea of you giving up because you didn’t give yourself a chance,” she countered.
That made him smile. “You’ve always been bossy.”
“I prefer practical,” she said. “Also, I’m older. It’s my job to tell you what to do.”
He rolled his eyes, then tapped the pad again. “Okay. Storage unit. A small one. Just big enough to work in and keep finished stuff safe.”
“And if it works,” Maude said. “You can upgrade later. Something with more space, more light. A proper shop.”
“That would be…amazing.” Robbie looked around her tiny house and seemed to be taking the measure of the place. The narrow walkways, the carefully chosen furniture, the limits she lived within on purpose. “You weren’t scared of starting small, huh?”
“I was, actually,” she said. “But I didn’t let that stop me. I figured I’d adapt and overcome.”
“Now you sound like Dad.” He exhaled as if the ideas were starting to make sense. “All right. I’ll look into it today.”
Maude smiled. “Good. Because I want to keep my house as organized as possible.”
He laughed, standing to get himself more coffee. “I don’t blame you. Speaking of which, if it’s okay with you, I’m going to throw together a small platform for that mattress in the loft. Something with space for storage underneath it. It’ll help me be more organized.”
Her brows lifted. “I am not going to say no to that.”
“Cool. Thanks.”
She sipped her coffee, feeling better about him being here than she had since he’d arrived. This would give Robbie something solid to work toward. And Maude felt like it might just be the thing that helped him find his place in life. His way forward.
If that was possible, she was happy to finance this venture. So long as Robbie understood she was getting paid back eventually.
Maude hesitated, then set her mug down. “There’s one more thing,” she said carefully.
Robbie looked over at her from the coffee maker. “Uh-oh.”
She gave him a look. “Relax. This isn’t a lecture. Just to clarify something.” She took a breath. “I’m happy to front the money to get you started. First month on a storage unit, basic supplies you need to get things made. But I want us to be on the same page about what that money is.”
He frowned slightly. “Maude—”
“It’s a loan,” she said gently. “Not a bailout. Not a gift.”
Robbie leaned back, processing that. “You don’t trust me to pay it back?”
“That’s not it at all,” she said. “I trust you. I also know how easy it is for help to turn into something that weighs on both people if you don’t talk about it upfront.”
He was quiet for a second, then nodded. “You’re right. I don’t want to feel like I owe you forever.”
“And I don’t want to feel weird about reminding you down the road,” she said. “This way, it’s out there. You get started, you build something, and when you can, you pay me back.”
Robbie smiled, a little crooked. “You’ve always been like this. Bossy. But fair.”
Maude returned the smile. “That’s how we stay siblings instead of turning into resentful roommates.”
He lifted his mug in a small toast. “All right then. Loan accepted.”
Maude leaned closer to clink her mug against his. “Good. Now let’s make sure it turns into something worth both our time.”