Lacy

If you’ve ever taken on a home improvement project, you’ll understand the mess that greeted me the next morning. The cottage had become a labyrinth of piles of furniture that had yet to be worked on, interspersed with my personal belongings from the car. There were paths to the bed, the bathroom, and the kitchen sink. Anything beyond that and you should plan to do some mountain climbing. We couldn’t even get to the deck without going out the kitchen door and walking around.

Melanie showed up on time for her first day. It hit me then that it was probably the most crucial day in my life so far, because the attitude and atmosphere I created for my company began right then. If I was too easy as a boss, I’d never regain that ground. On the other hand, if I was too strict, word would get around and I’d be unable to find decent employees. Chances were I’d eventually put myself out of business. So I tried to stay positive, encouraging and lighthearted, yet be very clear regarding what I expected from my employee. I also made sure that she knew she could always ask questions.

Melanie certainly had some attitude, but I hadn’t seen very many pretty girls who didn’t. They behaved as though the world was theirs alone and everyone in it was waiting to carry out their commands. The sad part was that in a lot of cases, that’s exactly what happened. But just because I didn’t fit into that category didn’t mean that I couldn’t be a success. I just had to be a little bit smarter and work a little bit harder in order to pass muster with the world. It sucked, but that’s the way it was.

Our task was daunting, there was no question about that. Where do you begin with a pile of things and nowhere to move them? We began the only place we had, and that was on the deck. Melanie and I carried out one piece of furniture at a time onto a tarp we’d spread out. Then I surveyed it to decide what sort of enhancements we were going to make. If paint was involved, as usually it was, I referred to the paint chips I’d picked up from the home improvement store the day before. I decided whether I wanted chalk paint, gloss or another treatment that I would later paint over or add details to. I noted my choices on a piece of paper and taped it to the bottom of the furniture so there was no chance of a memory lapse later on. Melanie had thoughtfully brought working clothes and was soon sanding and painting out on the deck.

I used my time to plan the next piece and make probably a dozen trips to the home improvement store to find just the right thing to use. I had a cutting machine that allowed me to create images on my computer and then transfer them to the machine to be cut out of my choice of vinyl, fabric, wood, or a heavy plastic which could be used as a stencil. I was in my own heaven. One by one, each piece of furniture got its own little instruction tag, and as each piece dried in the sun, we began working on the next.

I quickly recognized that the workflow was not very efficient. I needed to have my furnishings in place in order to live—much less work—here. At the same time, the underlying components of the cottage still had to be repaired. The floors needed to be stripped, sanded and re-varnished. There were places in the walls that needed to be repaired and a couple of walls had to come down altogether. And of course there were the windows that chose to work or not depending on the humidity and how strong I happened to be that day. I was definitely in a houseful of character.

On my next trip to town, I stopped by the little newspaper office on the square. I went inside and inhaled the smell of ink and cleaning chemicals. I’d worked for a local printer as a teenager, and once you got that ink under your nails, it always smelled like home.

“Good morning,” I said as I smiled and leaned against the counter.

A middle-aged woman with frazzled hair and a pervasive look of dissatisfaction met me there. “Can I help you?” she asked in a voice that sounded as though I were interrupting more important things.

“Hi. I’m Lacy Chatte and I’d like to place a classified in your employment section.”

She automatically pulled a sheet of paper from beneath the counter and picked up her pen, poised to write the ad.

“Handyman wanted. I’d like that in caps as the header, please. Looking for someone who is qualified to work on electrical, plumbing and carpentry and has a good overall knowledge of home improvement. Temporary basis with possible long-term options. Must be able to begin immediately.” I gave the woman my cell phone number, paid for the ad and left. She had been blandly uninterested, and I had the feeling I could’ve advertised my firstborn son for sale and her expression wouldn’t have changed.

I made a few more stops on the way back to the cottage, then unloaded my purchases and looked for Melanie on the deck. She wasn’t there. I stepped out through the wonky door and spotted her on the beach, a length of my brand-new fabric serving as her beach blanket. She was in a bikini and leaning up on one elbow talking to a young man. She didn’t seem very interested in him. He was evidently blocking the sunlight, and she angrily motioned him to step aside and then lay back down and put one forearm over her eyes. I could read from his body language that he was frustrated, and I felt sorry for the guy. I decided to teach her a little lesson.

“Melanie!” I knew she heard me, because her body jerked ever so slightly. “Melanie!” I called again, and this time she slowly sat up and turned her head to look at me as though I were interrupting high tea. “Come up here, would you?”

She turned to face the water and I saw her shoulders shrug as though she were aggravated. She got up, walked around the young man, and took her time walking into the water, diving beneath the waves at the last moment. She surfaced and then slowly plodded out of the water and across the beach toward my length of fabric. She walked across it a few times and then bundled it up, dragging a few inches of it in the sand as she came back to the cottage.

I made up my mind at that moment that I would dock her pay for the cost of the fabric. I could see that she and I were going to have some trouble. She reminded me of a dog I’d once adopted from a shelter. It spent most of its time growling at me and anyone else nearby. It was a sad attempt to become alpha, but I wouldn’t allow it. I growled back every time he growled at me, and it wasn’t long before the dog had become my best friend. I didn’t hold out high hopes that the same would happen with Melanie, but at least we could establish a working relationship. I knew she was connected in town and that if I fired her, there’d be hell to pay. I couldn’t afford hell at that moment.

“Yeah?” She was standing in my kitchen, dripping water on the floor, and she actually had the audacity to reach down and squeeze some water from the fabric of her swimsuit. She was so in-your-face with me that I was getting pretty pissed.

“I see you decided to take a little break?”

“Yeah.”

“And I see you decided to take the fabric for my armchair as a beach blanket?”

“Well, you didn’t have any towels handy.”

“I hope you like that fabric, because it’s coming out of your paycheck.”

I could see the dismay on her face. She and I were at an impasse. She needed money to return to college so she could put me out of business, and at the same time I needed her connections and dubious help to build my business beyond her reach.

“I expect you back on the deck, ready to work in ten minutes. I picked up a rocker that needs stripping.” I knew she hated stripping furniture—who didn’t?—but she’d earned her fate.

So began the constant subliminal warfare between Melanie and myself. We were like prisoners sharing a cell and competing for space. We didn’t particularly like each other, but we were stuck with each other, so we called a truce and settled down to real work.

I managed to crawl into bed by midnight each night, and each night I dreamed of having a truly hot shower and maybe even a soaking tub. I thought about my upstairs hideaway and wondered whether it was sturdy enough to accommodate all the things I wanted to do. Melanie showed up for work on time each morning. Her job was to work on upcycling furniture while I shopped for more pieces, materials and ideas.

My cell rang one morning. “Hello?”

“I’m calling about the job for a carpenter?” The voice was deep, very masculine. I could almost smell the testosterone over the line.

“Yes, I’m Lacy. I’m the one who placed the ad. Do you have experience?”

I heard him chuckle and realized how he had decided to interpret my remark. “I think you could say that.” I felt myself blushing at his inference.

“Want to tell me a little something about yourself?” I invited him.

“Wouldn’t it be better to do that in person?”

I sucked in my breath, surprised that he was taking control of the conversation so easily. It wasn’t the same way Melanie tried to do it; this was an entirely different animal.

“Why, yes, I suppose you’re right. Would you like to come in for an interview?”

“Seems like the best way.”

I thought it about it momentarily and then gave him my address. “See you at two o’clock today?”

“See ya.” He disconnected. I wasn’t sure whether he’d hung up on me to put me in my place or he was just a no-nonsense kind of guy.

Melanie had run out of furniture stripper, and I decided to make a quick run to town for more. It would keep her busy while I was conducting the interview. The home improvement store and I were on a first name basis by now, but they had a new display of wire shelving components that diverted my attention. I pictured my entire second floor getaway lined with shelves that I could fill with crafting supplies. It was a daydream, and I snapped back into reality when I looked at my watch and saw that I was running late. I paid for my purchases and jogged out of the store, throwing things willy nilly into the back of my car. I hadn’t eaten lunch and felt hungry, but there was no time, not even for a drive-through. There was a truck in the drive when I got to the cottage, and I knew that my interviewee was already there.

I walked through the kitchen door to see Melanie sitting atop my kitchen counter, her legs artfully crossed as though she were a saloon whore on a piano. But it was the man who caught my attention. He towered over me, not only in height but in some unseen energy that seemed to cast a shadow over me. He radiated power and strength. I went a little weak in the knees. He had a deep cleft in his chin, longish dark hair, and a pair of shoulders that could take down a garage door.

“Hi, I’m Lacy,” I introduced myself.

“Riker.” Of course you are, I thought to myself. You look like a Riker.

“Why don’t we go outside and take a look at the building?” My purpose was to keep Melanie out of the conversation and get her back to work. “Melanie, the stripper is in the car. Why don’t you get started on the next piece?”

She sent me a glare but now, having met Riker, it rolled off my back. She nodded and slid off the counter with a pout, managing to stumble against him and catching herself against his chest. I saw it was deliberate and wondered why it pissed me off, but he seemed to take it in stride. She probably wasn’t the first woman who’d thrown herself at him.

“Sure, let’s go,” he said and held the kitchen door open for me to precede him outside. “So, I’ll give you the short version. I’m from Chicago but looking to move out of the city. I’m self-taught for the most part, but I’ve worked with some pretty big crews and I’m licensed as an electrician, a plumber, and a builder. There’s just about nothing I can’t do on site. Like I say, I’m looking to get out of the city, so when I saw your ad, it held some appeal. What is it you’re looking to do?”

My throat was dry. His deep voice ran like honey through my ears and down my spine, making me wet where it puddled between my legs. He was watching me, waiting for me to respond, and I caught his eyes going to my chest more than once. There was a time when that used to offend me, but for some reason with him it didn’t.

“Well, like you, I’m from the city. I just finished school and I decided to open my own interior design business. I inherited this cottage from my grandmother, but as you can probably tell, it’s really not fit to live in as it is. She died before she had a chance to fix it up. Anyway, I’ve decided to make it a combination home and business location. My decorating style is all about repurposing older furniture, and I think this is a good place to start my business. So I’ve been buying some things and working on them. I assume you met my assistant, Melanie, inside?”

His eyebrows went up with amusement. “It was sort of hard to miss her. She answered the door and just about jumped up on the kitchen counter. I’ve got a pretty good idea she intended to interview me for a different kind of job.”

I laughed out loud, unable to keep myself from envisioning that picture. “Yes, that would be Melanie.”

“So, what is it you need me to do?”

“I need someone with your kind of qualifications to help me get this house in shape. I’m sure I don’t have to point out the things that need repair or replacement. I don’t foresee any major remodeling, with the exception of the second floor.”

“Second floor?”

“Yeah, I know, I didn’t realize there was one either the first time I saw the place. I found a very shallow staircase behind a door at the end of the hallway. I’m not sure the upper floor was intended as a living space, maybe just like a finished attic, so I’d like you to take a look and see if there’s something we could do to raise the ceiling. I’d like it to become my workroom. The bathroom definitely needs some work. I can’t even get a hot shower or bath in there now. The kitchen needs to be ripped out and new appliances and cabinets put in. I know that sounds like a lot, but I’m not talking fancy kitchen. In fact, I’d be just fine with a couple of pantries with doors instead of lining the walls with cabinets.”

“Okay. We could always add a dormer to the upper floor, but you should probably concentrate on the downstairs first. How fast are you wanting this done?”

“I wanted someone to start right away. Obviously, since I’m building my business here, the longer it’s delayed, the longer before I can get started with clients. I need someone who can work independently. I don’t have time to supervise, and I really don’t have the know-how, so I’d have to depend on you to do it right. You have to get all the permits and give me materials lists, and you might have to stand in as a sort of architect from time to time. Would you have a problem with that?”

“No, not at all. In fact, I prefer to be that way.”

“Super. Well, you’re in luck. Not only are you qualified, but you’re the first one here, and as I said I want to get started right away. Are you still living in the city?”

“Yeah, for the time being, but I’ll be moving out this way as soon as I find a place. Would you have a problem with my bringing along a young man to help me? You don’t need to pay him, but I’m trying to teach him the trade.”

I shrugged. “I don’t see why I would. When can you get started?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

I nodded and held out my hand to make the bargain. His hand was easily twice the size of mine, and I felt electric currents shoot throughout my body as we touched. He had an unbelievable energy, and I was drawn to him like a magnet. It shook me up a little, and I was finding it hard to breathe. “We have a deal. Let’s go inside and let me point out a few things. Feel free to chime in with some ideas.”

He swept his arm out to indicate I should go ahead of him. I liked his manners, I liked his voice, I liked his… Well, let’s just say I liked what I saw. It was my lucky day.