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“Just peachy,” I muttered, using the excuse of brushing light debris from my clothing so I didn’t have to make eye contact until I could get my pulse under control. “I guess that’s what happens when you give the demo guy a hammer.”
6
Ava
“Deacon, grab the rover and some hubs from the truck,” Nate said, tossing his tablet onto the mantle. “The plot map shows our north line runs right through that thick brush behind the shed. Let’s go shoot the corners and find the original pins before the brush gets any thicker. I don’t need us dropping a tree on the neighbor’s lot next week because we had to guess where the line was.”
“Got it,” Deacon said, grabbing his keys.
Nate then inspected the rest of the room. The enormous angled joist that still sagged heavily from the exposed ceiling split the kitchen in two. The timber completely pancaked the vintage island, buckling its center outward into sharp, white-veined quartz shards and splintered cabinetry. To top things off, a thick layer of gray drywall dust coated everything.
He directed his next instruction to Ethan. “Think you can get this cleaned up by the time we get back?”
Ethan nodded sagely, still looking around at the sorry state of the room. Nate and Deacon hastily left, their heavy footsteps fading out the front door.
“I’d consider moving to a different room while you wait, ma’am,” Ethan told me. “All this debris isn’t a joke, and I’d rather you not risk hurting yourself.”
I gave him a look. “I’d rather stay to help you clean it up. Like you said, it’s not a joke, and two pairs of hands are better than one, no?”
Ethan didn’t look very sure, but I waved it off, rolling up the sleeves of my utility jacket.
“Just tell me where I can be useful,” I said. “And for future reference, you can just call me Ava.”
Ethan looked a little surprised, but pleased nonetheless. He looked around, then walked over and picked up a square-mouthed shovel and handed it to me. “If you insist… you can start with scraping up the pieces of quartz countertop. Dump the stone fragments into one of those heavy-duty trash bags over there. The drywall can go in there too.”
“Got it, boss,” I said.
Ethan’s smile widened, and then we got to work. He used a crowbar to pry apart the larger framing studs, stacking the lumber into a neat pile that he explained they’d burn later. I’d never been much of a manual labor person, but I found myself oddly enjoying the process of clearing out the rubble.
“You look pretty happy for a client who's doing work she’s paying people for,” he called over.
“I may not look like it, but I can get my hands dirty, you know,” I told him, scooping up another pile of drywall. “Besides, it’s kind of fun being on the other side of things for once. I’m usually just drawing up sketches and visualizing the spaces I work on. I don’t ever really get to do the hands-on stuff.”
Ethan paused, looking thoughtful. “I didn’t think you’d be interested in the hands-on stuff.”
I laughed. “What gave you that impression? The mud-soaked heels I wore when I got here, or the fact that I didn’t even have a key to this place before moving in?”
He cringed, that goofy, sweet smile still on his face. “Well, neither. Not really. I guess it’s just… you look kind of expensive.”
“Is that a sweeter way of saying ‘fragile’?”
“It’s my way of saying I’m glad you wanted to help me,” he replied.
I felt butterflies in my stomach and, for a rare moment, I didn’t have a response.
He wasn’t just uniquely warm and friendly in his words. Ethan worked with such grace despite his height and size. Deacon and Nate weren’t clumsy, but he was graceful. I could tell that even when he was pulling things apart, his hands were carpenter's hands. Skillful and deft and intentional. It just made sense.
I got briefly distracted as I watched him lift a heavy, crushed cabinet drawer, using his thigh to balance the weight before tossing it out the open door and onto the pile of growing debris. When he walked back in, I quickly snapped my head back down to focus on driving the blade of the shovel against the linoleum, trying to scrape up a bigger pile of quartz shards.
“Hey, Ava?” he asked.
I looked up.
“Feel free to ignore the question, but I was just curious. I put together that you and Nate and Julia all know each other. But I didn’t know that you actually grew up together,” he said.
My hands froze. “Nate hasn’t told you anything?”
“He doesn’t talk much at all about stuff that’s not work-related,” he answered apologetically.
