Page 38 of The Beach Trap

“Can I ask you a question?” I say to Henry.

He straightens up and retracts his tape measure. “Sure.”

Henry Alexander was a surprise when I met him. Kat said he was an old friend of hers, so I expected someone like her or the Rooneys—rich and entitled. But Henry seems down-to-earth, a soft-spoken, thoughtful guy who weighs his words before hespeaks. In fact, he reminds me of a younger version of my granddad, especially in his jeans, plaid shirt, and work boots.

“I don’t think this is load bearing,” I say, pointing to the wall between the kitchen and dining room, “but can you confirm?”

Henry looks up at the ceiling, hands on hips, then walks around to the other side of the room. When he reappears, he smiles. “Not load bearing.”

I’m relieved. “Great. I’ll demolish it whenever I get up the courage to take a sledgehammer to it. Oh, and I guess I need to buy a sledgehammer.”

“I have one you can borrow. I’m happy to lend you anything you need.” Henry’s phone pings, and he pulls it out of his pocket. “I have to be somewhere, but I’ll drop off a sledgehammer later this week?”

“No rush,” I say. “I’m renting a sander tomorrow to get started on the floors. That’ll keep me busy for a few days.”

He smiles. “Good luck. Call me if you need any help.”

•••

The next day,I’ve started the grueling job of sanding the subfloor. It’ll take a few days since it covers the entire main level of the house. The dog is scared of the noise, so he’s hiding upstairs, leaving me to work in peace. Yesterday, I went to the thrift store and bought a couple of pairs of jeans and some long-sleeve shirts; Granddad was all about safety, and my cutoffs and tank tops won’t cut it for the heavy-duty work.

With my eye and ear protection on and the floor sander vibrating in my hands, the rest of the world fades away. It’s almost a meditative feeling. All I have to focus on is this floor, this moment. I block everything else out—the tension with Kat, the worry about Granddad, the simmering anger toward my father.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the dog bounding downthe stairs toward the door. I turn off the sander and yank my ear protection off, worried that something’s wrong.

But then I hear it:

“Hey, little Danny boy. Little Danny DeVito. Danny Dorito, my little Cheeto puff.”

Noah.

A smile tugs at my lips. He’s brought me lunch a couple of times this week. Without him, I might’ve succumbed to scurvy from malnourishment. I look forward to his visits more than I should; pretty sure he comes mostly to visit the dog.

“Hi,” I say, walking into the kitchen. He’s looking particularly scruffy today, his shorts covered with grease stains. Somehow, he also manages to lookdamnsexy, neck beard and all, which is annoying.It’s just because he’s tall, I remind myself. Tall men are my kryptonite.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t appear to have any food with him today. No big deal: I can eat peanut butter and brown sugar sandwiches for lunch, just like I did every day in elementary school.Cheap and delish, as my mom used to say.

Noah’s eyes widen as he sees me. “Whoa. You look like you escaped the dust bowl and are about to head to California on a jalopy with the Joad family.”

“Ooh, somebody took AP English.” I look down at my sawdust-covered self and lift my safety goggles over my head. “What are you up to? Already done for the day at”—I glance at the digital display on the oven—“2:37?”

“Just taking a break. I’ve been busy washing the windows—”

“Busy? You?”

He shakes his head. “Hush. As I was saying, I wasvery busytoday, and I realized that I’d worked through lunch. I figured you might’ve done the same. I thought I’d see if you wanted to grab dinner later.”

“Sure.” I blow on my safety goggles, getting rid of the coating of dust. “I can pick up the food this time, since you usually do. What do you want?”

“I was thinking we could go somewhere. Get out of here for a couple hours.”

I shake my head, replacing the goggles over my eyes. “Can’t. Too much to do.”

“You’ve been working sixteen hours a day,” he says. “You deserve a break, even if I don’t.”

I sigh. A break does sound nice. I’ve been sanding the floor for so long my body feels like it’s still vibrating. “Okay, sure. Let’s do dinner. Want to meet somewhere?”

“I’ll come get you. Seven o’clock?”

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