for a good night’s sleep. Tim wanted to make himself a sandwich. He hadn’t eaten much today with all the excitement of moving in.
He slept surprisingly well that night, awakening even before his alarm went off at seven. Getting up, he showered, shaved, and let Rowdy out in the backyard. He didn’t want to miss Mr. Bills. Draperies and curtains were an absolute must. He’d undressed in the lighted walk-in closet the night before, and dressed there this morning. Putting on a pot of coffee, he reheated several of Mrs. Bills’s cinnamon rolls, and sat down to eat.
Mr. Bills arrived at eight o’clock, pulling his truck into the drive, and coming in from the breezeway. “ ’Spect you know who I am,” he said. “The missus sent me down to get your curtain rods up. Let’s see what you got to hang, Mr. Blair.”
“I put the cartons over here,” Tim said, “opened them last night, and laid everything in the proper rooms before I turned in for the night.” He led Mr. Bills to the living room.
The handyman examined how the curtains should be hung, nodded, and grunted to himself. Then he followed Tim into the study and finally the bedroom, where he repeated the same proceedure. “The missus says you should have a small shade for the bathroom. She gave me the size, and I picked it up at the hardware store for you along with the rods you’ll need. She told me what rods to put in the kitchen and on the back door. Says she’ll discuss what goes there with you on Friday. No need for you to stand around, Mr. Blair. You go about your business, and I’ll go about mine.”
“How do I pay you, Mr. Bills?” Tim asked.
“I’ll leave the bill on the kitchen table,” came the reply. “You can give the money to the missus on Friday. She’ll give it to me. I’ll start in the living room.” He picked up the toolbox he had brought into the house with him and exited the kitchen.
Tim fed Rowdy, who had come in with Mr. Bills, then put his dishes in the dishwasher. Going down the hall to his bedroom, he made his bed. Then, going to his study, he began to unpack the rest of the books and get his computer and desk set up.
When Mr. Bills finally came into the study, Tim went to the living room to see how the handyman had fared. The valances were set perfectly. The slim, heavy draperies with their sheer curtains hung perfectly.
Tim emptied the remaining cartons of books he wanted to keep. He quickly discovered there wasn’t enough room for all the volumes that had come out of the apartment. He intended donating what he didn’t want to the library. He had already given his father’s law library to Ray Pietro d’Angelo. Ray’s gratitude made him glad he had given those books to someone who would appreciate them. And his father would have been pleased. He had always liked Ray.
By eleven o’clock Mr. Bills had finished the job he had been sent to do. “I’m leaving the bill on the table, Mr. Blair,” he called out. “Give the missus cash if you don’t mind. I prefer cash on jobs like these.”
Tim caught the handyman before he got out the breezeway door. “You did a spectacular job,” he said, complimenting Mr. Bills. “Thanks so much.”
Mr. Bills smiled slightly. “Glad to oblige, Mr. Blair. Good morning.” And the handyman was gone, out to his truck.
“Rowdy,” Tim called. “Let’s take a walk to the library.” He clipped the leash onto the dog’s collar, made certain his keys were in his pocket, and headed out the door.
The mail woman walking her route patted Rowdy on the head, and greeted him by name. Tim smiled and nodded at her, noting she put some mail in the box in front of his house. He’d check when he got back, but right now he had to focus on making a friend of Egret Pointe’s starchy librarian, Kathryn St. John, pronounced Sin Gin . If he couldn’t win her over, then maybe Rowdy could. Rowdy was good at winning women’s hearts, even if his master wasn’t.
CHAPTER THREE
T he sign on
He slept surprisingly well that night, awakening even before his alarm went off at seven. Getting up, he showered, shaved, and let Rowdy out in the backyard. He didn’t want to miss Mr. Bills. Draperies and curtains were an absolute must. He’d undressed in the lighted walk-in closet the night before, and dressed there this morning. Putting on a pot of coffee, he reheated several of Mrs. Bills’s cinnamon rolls, and sat down to eat.
Mr. Bills arrived at eight o’clock, pulling his truck into the drive, and coming in from the breezeway. “ ’Spect you know who I am,” he said. “The missus sent me down to get your curtain rods up. Let’s see what you got to hang, Mr. Blair.”
“I put the cartons over here,” Tim said, “opened them last night, and laid everything in the proper rooms before I turned in for the night.” He led Mr. Bills to the living room.
The handyman examined how the curtains should be hung, nodded, and grunted to himself. Then he followed Tim into the study and finally the bedroom, where he repeated the same proceedure. “The missus says you should have a small shade for the bathroom. She gave me the size, and I picked it up at the hardware store for you along with the rods you’ll need. She told me what rods to put in the kitchen and on the back door. Says she’ll discuss what goes there with you on Friday. No need for you to stand around, Mr. Blair. You go about your business, and I’ll go about mine.”
“How do I pay you, Mr. Bills?” Tim asked.
“I’ll leave the bill on the kitchen table,” came the reply. “You can give the money to the missus on Friday. She’ll give it to me. I’ll start in the living room.” He picked up the toolbox he had brought into the house with him and exited the kitchen.
Tim fed Rowdy, who had come in with Mr. Bills, then put his dishes in the dishwasher. Going down the hall to his bedroom, he made his bed. Then, going to his study, he began to unpack the rest of the books and get his computer and desk set up.
When Mr. Bills finally came into the study, Tim went to the living room to see how the handyman had fared. The valances were set perfectly. The slim, heavy draperies with their sheer curtains hung perfectly.
Tim emptied the remaining cartons of books he wanted to keep. He quickly discovered there wasn’t enough room for all the volumes that had come out of the apartment. He intended donating what he didn’t want to the library. He had already given his father’s law library to Ray Pietro d’Angelo. Ray’s gratitude made him glad he had given those books to someone who would appreciate them. And his father would have been pleased. He had always liked Ray.
By eleven o’clock Mr. Bills had finished the job he had been sent to do. “I’m leaving the bill on the table, Mr. Blair,” he called out. “Give the missus cash if you don’t mind. I prefer cash on jobs like these.”
Tim caught the handyman before he got out the breezeway door. “You did a spectacular job,” he said, complimenting Mr. Bills. “Thanks so much.”
Mr. Bills smiled slightly. “Glad to oblige, Mr. Blair. Good morning.” And the handyman was gone, out to his truck.
“Rowdy,” Tim called. “Let’s take a walk to the library.” He clipped the leash onto the dog’s collar, made certain his keys were in his pocket, and headed out the door.
The mail woman walking her route patted Rowdy on the head, and greeted him by name. Tim smiled and nodded at her, noting she put some mail in the box in front of his house. He’d check when he got back, but right now he had to focus on making a friend of Egret Pointe’s starchy librarian, Kathryn St. John, pronounced Sin Gin . If he couldn’t win her over, then maybe Rowdy could. Rowdy was good at winning women’s hearts, even if his master wasn’t.
CHAPTER THREE
T he sign on
Similar Books
