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I cross my arms, staring at the new slabs that were just delivered. They’re leaning up against the wall of my shop, and I make mental notes about each one before I hoist them up onto the rack where I let new wedges sit for a few days before I get started. Then I return to the project I’m currently working on: finishing up the last elements of Ellis’ chairs for the buildout at Dock 7.
“What do you think, girl?” I ask Sydney, spreading my arms wide once I’ve finished joining the last pieces together, the beautiful white oak and cedar pieces merging together to form a truly beautiful final product. “Think she’ll be happy?”
Sydney whimpers and rolls over, putting her belly in the air.
“Well, that’s not a good sign.” I laugh, taking a step back to examine my work.
I don’t often use dovetail joints on chairs, but I felt like it would be perfect for this project. It’s decorative but still understated, and with the colored leather Ellis selected, it should provide a nice compliment.
She agrees when she shows up midday to take a look at it.
“Oh, Reid, it’s beautiful,” she says, clasping her hands together and circling around the chair, examining it from every angle. “You’ve really outdone yourself.”
“And all the leather covers came in earlier this week,” I say, stepping back into my office to grab the sample cushion I set up. “What do you think?”
Ellis gasps again, reaching out to touch it then taking it in her hands. “Wow.” She rubs her hands across the soft material, humming softly. “It’s perfect.”
I smile. “I’m so glad you like it. If you don’t want any changes, I can take the second deposit and get started on the remainingchairs. I’ll have more than enough time to get them to you before the buildout is completed in October.”
“Please consider this my official thumbs-up,” she says, laughing. “I can’t wait to see them all together.”
We head to my office to handle payment, but when we’re done and I expect Ellis to head out, she settles more comfortably into the chair on the opposite side of my desk and gives me a cheeky smile.
“So, Reid, is it true you’re dating Busy Mitchell?”
I chuckle awkwardly. “Why do you ask?”
Ellis shrugs. “Well, I’m a woman who likes her gossip,” she says, honestly. “And it would be nice to have something to share with the ladies at The Pines when I head over for my weekly bridge game tomorrow.”
My lips twist as I try to hide my own smile. “We’re spending time together,” I reply, trying not to share too much without having cleared it with Busy first. I know she’s a little self-conscious of everyone in town talking about her business, and I don’t want to be the cause of that.
“What does that mean?” Ellis asks, with a titter of a laugh.
It’s been almost two weeks since our hike to Kilroy, since our conversation in her kitchen, and we’ve spent almost every evening together, sitting out on the deck or snuggled on the couch, just talking about life and diving into the deep with each other. I feel like Busy and I have talked about things most people don’t get into until they’ve been together for months, if not years.
I’ve cherished every single moment, even the hard ones, when we’ve discussed whatmyfuture looks like and the pain both of us have been through in the past. It feels real and honest and true, and it makes me fall more and more in love with her every damn day.
But I’m not going to say that to Ellis.
“It means…Busy is very important to me,” I answer.
More than just important. Busy is everything.
“Well, I know how you young folks like to pretend you’re not dating. My granddaughter calls it ‘hanging out’, which is ridiculous,” she says, rolling her eyes.
I can’t help but laugh.
“But while you’re ‘hanging out’, don’t forget that every girl wants to feel like the most important woman in the room every once in a while.” She pats my hand and stands. “Don’t forget to woo her.”
Ellis takes a few minutes to admire her chair one more time before I walk her out. But when we get to the door, she stops again and gives me a kind look.
“I just wanted to let you know,” she tells me, “I’ve seen your grandfather work this shop, and I’ve seen your father work this shop, and I think both of them would be really proud of you and what you’ve done with this place over the past few years.”
I give her a quiet smile. “Thanks, Ellis.”
“Have a good day, sweetie. And keep me posted on my chairs.”
She puts on a huge pair of sunglasses and struts through the door, and I can’t help but smile to myself. She really is something else.
