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“Said she has always loved the ones you made for Cedar Cider and wants something with a different look but a similar feel.”
With a bit of pride, I pull up the details for the chairs I made for the local brewery—one of the only custom projects I handled completely on my own before my dad passed away—and open the specs on my computer screen.
“I did love those chairs.”
Nick chuckles. “They’re works of art.”
Leaning back in my seat, I cross my arms. “So what’s the deal? I know you’re doing the buildout to add the lounge area, but are you doing design now, too?”
“Nah.” He bats a hand my direction. “Ellis is just old school, you know? She hasn’t worked with you before and I’ve done a few projects for her over the years.” He shrugs. “I think she just wants to make sure someone she trusts is handling it.”
I bob my head, though I can’t completely ignore the pinch at the unspoken truth. Ellis used to go to my dad for furniture for Dock 7, but he’s gone. Even though she’s known me practically since I was born, she’s putting on her business hat and adding a middleman because she doesn’t entirely trustme.
I look back at my screen and the detailed notes I have for the project I did for the brewery, knowing I can’t allow myself to spend too much time dwelling on that. As much as I know Ellis likes me as a person, business is business.
“Well, if she wants a dozen of them, I’ll need about three months once I’ve sourced the wood and leather. So, maybe four months to delivery?”
“That’s perfect. We’re aiming to be done with the project by mid fall, so that’ll be a good time for install.”
“Makes sense to finish up before it gets cool. I’m looking forward to that fireplace.”
I love Dock 7. It’s a restaurant on the west side of the lake with a really cozy vibe and beautiful deck area that books out weeks in advance during the summer because everyone wants to eat with a view of the lake.
Locals call the place Lucky’s, because during high tourist season, the bar is a veritable hot spot for finding casual hookups with people just stopping through town. I might have taken advantage of that truth during my 20s, before Sarah, but eventually I moved on from that kind of life, and I haven’t really been back to Lucky’s for more than a dinner or two since.
With the renovations happening, I might need to reconsider, if not for the hookups, certainly for the new whiskey tasting lounge Nick’s building off the bar. It’s going to have a fireplace and dark walls and sconces and, apparently, wood and leather chairs made by me. Sounds like a dream, and I can’t wait to see the finished work.
“Getting the guys together to grab a beer tonight,” Nick says as we step out of my office a while later, once we’ve finalized the details for the chairs. “You wanna join in?”
A beer sounds nice, but I’ve been feeling overworked this week.
“Nah, I think I’ll pass,” I say, massaging the joints in my right hand with my left. “But thanks.”
We come to a stop at the doorway that leads out to the parking lot. “Well if you change your mind, you know where we’ll be.”
I nod. “I do.”
We shake hands.
“I’ll catch you later,” he says, then heads off in the direction of where his truck is parked a ways away.
I turn, flexing my hands and doing a few stretches before I tug a different project off the shelf, a table top with a stain that has finally finished drying. Then I get back to work. As much as I enjoy spending time with Nick and the guys, I enjoy time on my own just a bit more, and a quiet night with my dog and a book sitting on my deck sounds like a perfect evening.
If Busy and Junie happen to be there?
Well, I wouldn’t hate it.
chapter seven
Busy
“You’re going to hurt your back if you keep lifting it that way.”
I turn and pin Andy with my eyes. “You’re going to hurt your mouth if you don’t keep your thoughts to yourself.”
Andy laughs and rubs his hands together. “Oooh, someone’s testy today.”
“Not testy,” I correct him. “Focused.”
