Page 31 of Solid Foundation
“Good. Floors are being installed as we speak. Cabinets and fixtures will go in early next week. We’re on schedule to wrap by the end of next week.”
“And the dailies?”
“They look good. Story is coming together nicely. I’m pleased with the interviews we’re getting and the footage is solid.”
Doug nodded approvingly. “Where are we on budget?”
“A little over, but not much. There were some unexpected expenses in the beginning, particularly related to asbestos mitigation and providing protective equipment to the crew, but spending is under control. We’ve kept overtime at a minimum, which is balancing things.”
He jotted things on his notepad, nodding while he wrote. “Good, good. Now, about those letters you mentioned—”
“About that. I don’t think we’re going to use them after all. I don’t see how they’ll fit into the narrative we’re building.”
He frowned and leaned back in his chair. “I really think incorporating them will bring in viewers. Our most popular demographic is middle-aged women. They love a good love story. And if you spin it as a mystery, too, we’ll capture the younger viewers.”
“I hear what you’re saying, boss. Here’s the thing—this love story doesn’t have a happy ending. These men are long deceased and from what I’ve learned, they don’t end up together. At leastone of them married someone else and has family who still live in the area. And speaking of family, we don’t have permission to air their private letters. It’s a tall ask from what I’ve gathered. And even if we had permission, it just feels like we need to give this story the respect it deserves. It feels exploitative to use their love letters to draw viewers into our home reno show. Their story belongs in a museum, not on a reality show.”
Doug’s frown deepened. “You’re saying we exploit people.”
I shook my head, in a hurry to clarify. “No, not at all what I meant, sir. I’m saying to makethisa story without permission from the descendants feels uncomfortable at best.” My heart raced as I spoke, and I rubbed my damp, sweaty palms on my thighs.
After a moment, he nodded. “Understood. Well, it’s your show. I’m trusting you here. I’ll let you make that call. Ratings will determine whether it was the right one.”
I nodded sincerely, trying to keep myself from behaving unprofessionally. Inside, I was heaving a sigh of relief. “Thank you for understanding, Doug. I appreciate it.”
We chatted a little more about the budget and timeline before ending the call a few minutes later. The minute the camera switched off, I sighed in relief and leaned back in my chair. I was excited to tell Jake the good news right away. To that end, I headed out to the job site to find him.
Chapter Fifteen
Jake
It had been a long day. I was wrapping up reprimanding a subcontractor for ruining an entire box of flooring by placing it behind a truck, where someone backed over it entirely, and I’d spent most of the day spinning out in my mind about Max leaving. The sooner the job finished, the sooner he’d be gone, and I didn’t want to think about it—which meant that wasallmy mind could think about. That was why, when someone grabbed me from behind, I didn’t respond in the kindest way.
“Hey,” Max said, touching my arm. When I sighed, Max frowned and tilted his head slightly. “Sorry, did I interrupt something?”
“Only Buddy literally destroying the last box of flooring we needed to install to finish the downstairs.” I pressed my index finger to the center of my forehead and sighed before looking back at him. “Now I have to run back to the hardware store and hope they still have it in stock. Otherwise, we’re going to be calling it a day early.”
“Yikes.” He grimaced.
“Yikes is right. But I’ll figure it out. That’s what I’m here for. What can I do for you?”
“I wanted to tell you about my meeting with Doug, but it’s fine. It sounds like you’re busy.”
I dropped my voice to a low murmur. “Why don’t you come by later and you can tell me everything?”
He brightened. “Yeah, okay. Sounds good.”
My day went mostly smoothly from there. I was relieved to find the hardware store did, in fact, have the same flooring in stock, so I was able to replace the ruined box and I grabbed another backup, just in case. Back on site, I lent a hand cutting and installing the last pieces of flooring before guiding the cabinet guys on where they would need to install each piece the next morning. Countertops were going in the following day, so I did a walk-through to make sure everything looked ready. Satisfied, I wrapped up for the day and headed home.
Once I’d pulled into my driveway, I grabbed my guitar from the back seat of the truck and took it with me. It had been too long since I’d taken the opportunity to just enjoy playing. Inside, I placed the guitar on the couch and made my way into the bathroom to shower. I was gross—covered in sweat and sawdust—and I needed to wash it all away and try to get myself into the right frame of mind to spend time with Max. I still felt guilty for barking at him earlier and I was ready to wash that away, too.
Stepping under the cool water, I let out a heavy sigh of relief. Normally I preferred a hot shower, but after a sweltering day at work, cool water was welcome. I scrubbed quickly, watching sudsy water swirl down the drain, and dried off quickly when I was done. In the bedroom, I pulled on a pair of basketball shorts and a loose-fitting T-shirt before making my way back to the living room. Pulling the guitar out of the case, I grabbed a pick and began to play.
It was easy to get lost in the music when I played, no particular songs coming to mind as I strummed. I just made it up as I went along, much like the rest of my life—not following any real road map, not doing what was expected of me, just doing my own thing. Nothing else in the world mattered. Well, except Max. He mattered.
The thought drew a tight knot in my stomach, the slow but sudden indisputable realization that I wanted to keep Max around for as long as he wanted to stay, and that I wanted more from him—wanted to give more of myselftohim—than the occasional make-out session or sleepover we’d been working with.
Max’s knock on my door caused me to pause my strumming for just a beat, long enough to call out and let him know to come inside. “It’s open.”
