Page 13 of V is for Valentine
“Yeah.” His drill buzzed several times in rapid succession.
“Do you have a lot to do?”
“That remains to be seen.”
His evasiveness was annoying, because it made her feel like she was prying, which she was. She stepped out from behind the drywall so that she could see him as she pried further. “Is the location a secret?”
He glanced over at her. “I’m keeping things on the down low until some papers are signed.”
“Right.” She went back to work fastening the drywall into place and promptly burned the edge of her finger when the drill slipped.
“Are you okay?” he called as she put her finger in her mouth.
“Fine. Just need to keep my gloves on.”
“Yes. The gloves should stay on.”
Until they come off.
She peeked around the drywall to give him a tight smile, and he smiled back as if he’d just read her mind.
*
Danny was gladwhen Felicity walled off the office at the far end of the building, so that he couldn’t see her struggling as she hefted the drywall sheets and transferred them to the lift. She had her method, and it seemed to work, but every time she did a transfer, he held his breath, waiting for her to lose control of the unwieldy slab of paper-coated gypsum board.
In his way of thinking, the two of them working together would be a lot more efficient, but he wasn’t there to argue with her. B was for Boss.
And S is for Stubborn. A is for Always Right.
His lips curved as he fished in his construction apron for another handful of screws.
By his calculations, they could have the drywall up in three, maybe three-and-a-half long days, then the taping would begin. That was the time-consuming part. At least five long days there, which would give them a couple days to texture before painting.
“Hey,” he called. “You said your sisters might be by to help?”
“They’re both working full-time, but they might be able to do evenings. Unfortunately, their significant others are out of town, or we would have a nice size crew.”
Her drill buzzed, followed by the clatter of a screw that hadn’t gone in correctly and then a mild curse word.
“I’m surprised your dad doesn’t have a screw gun.”
“Had one. It broke a couple days ago.”
“It doesn’t rain, but it pours,” he said, echoing one of his dad’s sayings.
“He has a new micro-pinner, though, so mounting the trim should go pretty fast.”
“Even so, we may end up living here,” he said.
“I know. Dad has had the worst luck with his crew this go. He’s sworn that until he hires someone trustworthy and committed, he’s going to scale back to small jobs.”
“Will he be able to live on small jobs?”
“He has the rental houses, and it seems everyone needs a handyman. But…I think he’d like to continue contracting. The problem is that the big firms in Boise can pay more, and they’re always looking for decent workers.”
“And he’s not getting any younger.”
There was brief silence. “Yes. That, too.”
