Chapter One
Hana smiled when the knock sounded at the front door. Nine o’clock on the dot. Punctuality spoke volumes to a person’s professionalism. Maybe, finally , this fifth time would be the charm. She set down her coffee cup, picked up her folder of pertinent documents and sent up a silent prayer for strength and patience.
“Good morning, Mrs. Coswald,” he greeted as she opened the door.
“Mr. Maclosky, please come in.”
He shook her hand for real, no condescending little grasp of fingertips and no sweaty palm. Okay, this is already better , she thought while motioning him into the living room.
“You said the house was a fixer-upper,” he commented, turning full circle. “But this room could be on the cover of any home magazine.”
She couldn’t help beaming from ear to ear. “My arthritic joints and still spasming back thank you. I’m really happy with the way the room turned out.”
“What did you do in here?” he asked with curiosity but none of the patronizing disbelief she’d experienced from the other contractors she’d interviewed.
“All of it. The floor alone took me almost three weeks. Apparently, the installers of the horrific yellow shag carpet that was here when I moved in worried it was going to move, so they used gallons of glue and about a million nails. The time I spent sanding and refinishing the floor felt as if I was on vacation compared to the month and a half I spent on the ceiling and walls. Steaming and scraping off the four inches of wallpaper came first, patching, painting and staining the exposed wood followed.”
“The beams were covered?”
“Yep, kind of defeats the whole purpose of them being up there, don’t you think?” Hana chuckled, gazing up at the now beautifully stained wood accenting the vaulted ceiling.
“I’m impressed, damn impressed.” He flashed a wide, slightly crooked grin.
The fluttering sensation in her tummy area, an occurrence Hana hadn’t experienced in more years than she cared to count, took her by complete surprise.
“I once had a big, muscle-bound guy quit on me after the first day of removing carpet and prepping a wood floor. It’s hard as hell work; dirty and back breaking.”
“It was definitely harder than the tutorials I watched on the internet made it out to be.” She laughed.
“You gotta tell me how you finished these jobs so quickly by yourself.”
“It sure didn’t feel as if things were moving quickly, but I stuck to a schedule; four hours a day Monday through Friday, two on Saturday, and absolutely none on Sunday.”
“Wow, now that’s dedication.”
“My motivations are frugality and slight obsessive tendencies, with a healthy dose of stubbornness thrown in for good measure. Mr. Maclosky, I’ve been trying to hire out my remodeling project for months. You have no idea what I’ve been subjected to along the way.”
“Oh, I think I might, but I won’t talk smack about the competition,” he said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. “I’ve been successful in this business for over thirty years because I do quality work, on time, for a realistic price.”
“That’s what I learned during my research and why you’re here. Would you like to see my inspection reports?” She held out the bulging folder.
“Later, after we do a walk through. First, I want you to explain to me what you’re looking to have done and why, and it’s Sam.”
Hana was a firm believer in first impressions and gut feelings. She liked Sam Maclosky. “Fantastic, I’m all for dropping the formality; please call me Hana.”
“Let’s get down to it then, Hana.” He pulled a pen out of his pocket and flipped open his notebook.
She tried to ignore the fact that his words inspired thoughts as far away from home improvements as possible. Focus, woman. What the hell is wrong with you?
“Okay, well, as I told you in my email, the three big projects as I see them are the front porch, the kitchen, and the
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