Page 1 of Wood Lessons
CHAPTER ONE
ANNA
The empty wall mocksme as I sit on the carpet of my new apartment.A cream couch with matching coffee table surrounds me along with the rest of my unpacked bookshelves and knick knacks, but this wall stands bare except for an inset fireplace—no mantel to interrupt the flat surface.
My eyes travel over the three cube shelves I built myself, and dread at having to buy more weighs on me.After moving from the small town I’d lived in since college, I wanted to feel like an adult—someone who’s actually put together.Building furniture from a box like a college kid felt like a step back from that goal.
“You’re being ridiculous,” I admonish myself.Furniture doesn’t make you an adult; no matter what HGTV shows.
But I can’t ignore the vision in my head of a welcoming home designed with purpose instead of a hodgepodge of things.Can’t stop the dream of inviting friends over and feeling pride instead of embarrassment at the state of my home.
What friends?
“It’ll happen,” I say aloud, praying that voicing the hope will make it a reality.I promised myself with this move I’d step out of my comfort zone and be more outgoing.Part of the rut I found myself in back home was limiting my world to work and home, so socializing became harder the longer between visits with friends became.Everyone I knew lived an hour or more away with busy lives filled with husbands and children.
Somehow, I became the hermit friend despite my best intentions.
Not this time.
Crawling over to the laptop resting on the coffee table, I start searching for small businesses that specialize in custom furniture—a clear image of a beautiful mantel and bookcase becoming the focal point of the room appearing in my mind’s eye.
The vision symbolized friendship and community.A piece of furniture tangled with my dream—two seemingly unrelated things symbolizing the bright future I hoped to build.
Releasing a deep breath, I shrug.“Here goes nothing.”
***
TWO WEEKS AND MULTIPLEemail exchanges later, I turn onto a gravel drive, following it to the home of CC Designs.Their reviews mentioned excellent service with quick turnaround times, so I’d messaged them for a quote.Spending so much money made me uneasy, but I figured it meant quality.Besides, could I really put a price on my dream of hosting friends?Something this piece was a key part of?
Reassuring myself, I keep driving until a large barn set back from a house looms ahead.Today, I’m inspecting the progress made, and nerves cause sweat to gather under my arms.
These are professionals while I’m just a woman pretending to know what I’m doing.Imposter syndrome rides me hard, but fake it until you make it, right?Normal people do this all the time which means I can handle it, too.
Parking next to a black SUV, I breathe deeply in an effort to calm my racing heart before grabbing my purse and getting out.Despite being fifteen minutes from the city limits, the area looks like it belongs on a mountainside with forests of trees surrounding it.Wind ruffles the treetops, carrying the whine of power tools emitting from the barn.
A woman steps outside of the house and waves.“Hi!You must be Anna; I’m Cora.Did you have any trouble finding us?”
I shake my head and force a confident smile.“Nope; for once GPS didn’t lead me astray.”Plus, I’d driven by their entrance earlier to double-check the address, but she didn’t need to know about my paranoid behavior.
Cora laughs then continues, “Awesome!Peter and Chris are in the barn working on some projects right now.I can show you what we have done so far, and you can see part of the process.Sound good?”
Nodding in agreement, we begin walking towards the barn, our shoes crunching the gravel underneath.
“So, this is your first custom piece?”
“Yep, I felt very adult going over all the details.”I joke, thankful for the brief easing of tension coalesced in my neck and shoulders.
“Ha!I still feel that way, and we’ve been doing this for four years now.”
“When does it stop being adulting and start being just living?Maybe when we’re like fifty?”A running gag between my friend group flickers in my mind.We used to laugh about how close we were to forty in college like that number meant something important, and now the age keeps shifting as we grow older.
She shakes her head, sending the high ponytail swishing back and forth.“Maybe...”
We reach open barn doors where I can see one guy using a power saw while another looks to be marking a two by four.
“Hey!”I jump at Cora’s unexpected shout.One man looks up then taps the other who turns off the saw and removes his safety glasses.Damn, these are some good looking men.They both have plain tees under open plaid shirts with dark jeans and boots—exactly what I’d imagine a guy who works with his hands to wear.
“Guys, this is Anna.She ordered the bookcase mantel.Anna, this is Peter and my husband, Chris.”She gestures to the blonde who bows his head in greeting.
