Page 36 of The Summer We Started Over

“Well, she’s not here, so the book is going.” Barrett was decisive. She stuffed the book in.

They worked together all morning, disagreeing, agreeing, laughing. By the time they were done, most of the chairs were empty of books.

“So many chairs! We could have a dinner party!” Barrett crowed.

Eddie snorted. “We haven’t even cleaned off the table.”

In the kitchen, they made chicken salad sandwiches and a large pitcher of iced tea. Eddie took lunch to her father. He was in his study, bent over a notebook, deep in thought. Eddie quietly put his lunch on the only open spot on his desk.

Together, Eddie and Barrett went down to the barn to take lunch to the guys.

The air smelled of sawdust. Three long plywood boxes stood next to the piles of boards.

“Wow,” Barrett said. “You’ve done so much!”

“What do you think?” Jeff asked.

“This is amazing.” Eddie walked around the bins, running her hand over the edges of the wood. “Smooth.”

“Absolutely.” Paul looked pleased with his work. “It wouldn’t do to have your customers get splinters.”

“We made lunch, if you’d like it,” Eddie said, holding out the plates.

“Thanks.” Jeff took his sandwich and glass of tea, then scanned the area around him.

The barn was full of sunshine. Dust danced in the warm light.

Barrett said, “Oh, gosh, there’s no place to sit. Want to come up on the porch with us?”

“If that’s okay,” Jeff replied, looking at Eddie.

Eddie couldn’t hold back her smile. “It’s okay.”

They settled in the wicker chairs to eat.

Barrett swallowed a bite of sandwich. “Paul offered to make a quarterboard for my store.”

Eddie brightened. “Oh my gosh, Paul. That’s wonderful!”

“It’s not going to be a real quarterboard,” Paul told her. “I mean, I’ll use a stained teak board left over from outfitting a yacht, so it looks good, but it’s not as heavy. Plus, I can’t make shells or designs on the ends. Real quarterboards have five or six coats of paint or stain on them, but I can’t get that done by Memorial Day.”

“Damn, man,” Jeff said. “I hope you’ve got a power tool.”

“Definitely. I want to get a laser engraver someday, but I need more money for that.” Paul turned back to Eddie. “It will be three-D and from the ground it will look great. But I want to do a better one…for later.”

After the men had gone back to the barn, Barrett and Eddie carried the plates and glasses in to the dishwasher.

Eddie sidled close to Barrett. “You’ve made a conquest.”

“I’ve made afriend,” Barrett insisted. “Anyway, you’ve made aconquest,too. Jeff can’t take his eyes off you.”

Eddie leaned against the sink and folded her arms over her chest. “Let’s not go there.”

Barrett checked her watch. “Actually, I need to leave right now. I’ve got new deliveries I have to unpack and inventory to do. Are you okay here?”

“I’ll be fine. Go.”

All afternoon, Eddie roamed the house, reading book titles, selecting some for the barn, leaving others, and often sitting on the floor, reading a paragraph or a page, allowing memories to surround her. So much of who she was came from reading these books, as ifThe Great Gatsbyhad made her dream of attending riotous parties andBridget Jones’s Diarymade her want to live in a city and smoke, andLittle Womenmade her wonder why her own mother wasn’t as patient and loving as Marmee, and what would have happened to the Marchfamily if they’d had a brilliant, challenging brother. She wanted to be as gorgeous as Scarlett O’Hara, as clever as Nancy Drew, and as madly in love as Juliet, although she didn’t want to die young.

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