all?
6
In the comfort of his new work zone, Rob used a grinder that his father’s hands had held to take the rust from the antique skates. The tedious job freed his mind to wander. He imagined what he’d missed by not being in the shed as a child. Perhaps some of his skills and ability to work with his hands was genetic.
Growing up without a father, he had a different attitude toward life. The beauty in the house across the yard distracted his thoughts and captured his longings.
Paisley, how he wanted her. She was so full of life she made his day brighter. She drove him to want to be the man she was looking for, the man she deserved.
He shut off the grinder.
Someone tapped on the door frame.
“I didn’t want to walk in and risk that thing slipping and tearing your fingers into hamburger. How about water to follow that spicy lunch?” Paisley asked as she handed him a cold bottle.
“I’d say you’re an angel. Thanks. You changed.” He scrubbed through his hair and squeezed the back of his neck.
“Jeans are easier for what I’m doing. That’s an antique ice skate? It sure is tiny.”
“Sure is. Vintage and made of iron. The owner guessed the pair to be early 1900s.” He swilled half the water from the bottle.
“Wow. That’s old. You said there was a part here in the shed you could use?”
“Yes, see this piece? It’s a front clamp. One half was missing.”
“How did the skates keep from slipping?”
“Leather straps. They were bolted to the iron piece here in the back and wrapped around the ankle. Then buckled in the front.”
“I’ve guessed by visiting museums that people were a lot smaller a hundred years ago.” She swung her wealth of unruly golden hair over her shoulder, which enabled him to see her amber eyes. “Where in the world will you get the leather?”
“There’s a shoe repair shop downtown on Norfolk Avenue where I can get leather for straps.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah. According to Oren, farmers and ranchers have their cowboy boots resoled on a regular basis. Not to mention tack repair for reins and saddles and such.”
“Ah. Horses.” She ambled along the work bench, grazing a hand over the smooth edges of the wood and gazed at the tools hung in precise order.
Out of nowhere, he pictured a child of theirs with coloring like Sara’s. So strange, how Nora so resembled Paisley. Another characteristic the brothers shared—they went for the same kind of woman.
“You never invited me to see where you worked in California. I can’t imagine your things in neat Mark Waverly rows.”
“Unlike my haphazard clothes, tools of the trade need to be accessible in seconds. Sometimes I reach without taking my eyes off the job in my other hand. So, yeah, I have a pegboard and hooks similar to this in my workshop back home.”
“Is the famous milk truck under the canvas? I’m surprised you’re not smoothing fenders or whatever needs attention.”
“As much as I’m tempted, I need to do this job first, since it’s commissioned.”
“Didn’t you say the owner of the toys wasn’t in a hurry?”
“Right, but the truck is personal so I need to get business out of the way first.”
“That’s something that’s always struck me about you.”
“What’s that?”
“Your integrity.”
“Well, a job is a job and fun is fun.”
“I respect your work ethic. Have you figured out how to get the toys to the owner?”
How could he have forgotten how much he enjoyed talking to her? “Once I finish the skates, I’ll ship them home. My housemate has a key to the shop and he’ll take it from there.”
“Have you and Oren made plans for you to stay and work on the truck?”
“I have no jobs waiting for me in California. The truck is a worthy restoration project.” And who knows where you’ll go when Rainbow no longer needs your help.
“Sounds good. I need to get back at it. I’m close to being finished with the second bookcase. I had no idea
6
In the comfort of his new work zone, Rob used a grinder that his father’s hands had held to take the rust from the antique skates. The tedious job freed his mind to wander. He imagined what he’d missed by not being in the shed as a child. Perhaps some of his skills and ability to work with his hands was genetic.
Growing up without a father, he had a different attitude toward life. The beauty in the house across the yard distracted his thoughts and captured his longings.
Paisley, how he wanted her. She was so full of life she made his day brighter. She drove him to want to be the man she was looking for, the man she deserved.
He shut off the grinder.
Someone tapped on the door frame.
“I didn’t want to walk in and risk that thing slipping and tearing your fingers into hamburger. How about water to follow that spicy lunch?” Paisley asked as she handed him a cold bottle.
“I’d say you’re an angel. Thanks. You changed.” He scrubbed through his hair and squeezed the back of his neck.
“Jeans are easier for what I’m doing. That’s an antique ice skate? It sure is tiny.”
“Sure is. Vintage and made of iron. The owner guessed the pair to be early 1900s.” He swilled half the water from the bottle.
“Wow. That’s old. You said there was a part here in the shed you could use?”
“Yes, see this piece? It’s a front clamp. One half was missing.”
“How did the skates keep from slipping?”
“Leather straps. They were bolted to the iron piece here in the back and wrapped around the ankle. Then buckled in the front.”
“I’ve guessed by visiting museums that people were a lot smaller a hundred years ago.” She swung her wealth of unruly golden hair over her shoulder, which enabled him to see her amber eyes. “Where in the world will you get the leather?”
“There’s a shoe repair shop downtown on Norfolk Avenue where I can get leather for straps.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah. According to Oren, farmers and ranchers have their cowboy boots resoled on a regular basis. Not to mention tack repair for reins and saddles and such.”
“Ah. Horses.” She ambled along the work bench, grazing a hand over the smooth edges of the wood and gazed at the tools hung in precise order.
Out of nowhere, he pictured a child of theirs with coloring like Sara’s. So strange, how Nora so resembled Paisley. Another characteristic the brothers shared—they went for the same kind of woman.
“You never invited me to see where you worked in California. I can’t imagine your things in neat Mark Waverly rows.”
“Unlike my haphazard clothes, tools of the trade need to be accessible in seconds. Sometimes I reach without taking my eyes off the job in my other hand. So, yeah, I have a pegboard and hooks similar to this in my workshop back home.”
“Is the famous milk truck under the canvas? I’m surprised you’re not smoothing fenders or whatever needs attention.”
“As much as I’m tempted, I need to do this job first, since it’s commissioned.”
“Didn’t you say the owner of the toys wasn’t in a hurry?”
“Right, but the truck is personal so I need to get business out of the way first.”
“That’s something that’s always struck me about you.”
“What’s that?”
“Your integrity.”
“Well, a job is a job and fun is fun.”
“I respect your work ethic. Have you figured out how to get the toys to the owner?”
How could he have forgotten how much he enjoyed talking to her? “Once I finish the skates, I’ll ship them home. My housemate has a key to the shop and he’ll take it from there.”
“Have you and Oren made plans for you to stay and work on the truck?”
“I have no jobs waiting for me in California. The truck is a worthy restoration project.” And who knows where you’ll go when Rainbow no longer needs your help.
“Sounds good. I need to get back at it. I’m close to being finished with the second bookcase. I had no idea
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