Page 21 of Love It or List It
“Yeah,” Austin said glumly.He sighed and stepped forward to clean up.The trailer was too small for the dog to be hiding in it.He must have snuck in after they left and made a rapid escape.“I think we’re going to need a backup plan for dinner.”
Joe cleared his throat.“I’ll pick something up while you take care of this.What’s your order?”
SUNDAY MORNINGfound Joe at the farmhouse bright and early, wincing against the mean morning sunshine that glinted off the lurid green dumpster parked next to the trailer.
“Think it’s big enough?”Austin asked, voice morning rough.His breath steamed in the chilly air.
“Based on how much you hate throwing things away?”
“Hey.Rude.See if I offer you a coffee.”
Coffee.Joe knew he’d forgotten something in his haste to get out of the house this morning.He turned beseeching eyes on Austin.
“God, put those away.”Austin shoved his arm.“Come on.I’ll caffeinate you, and then we should get started.The kids coming to help?”
Joe waggled his hand and followed him into the trailer.“Gavin and Alex are coming later—you know what teenagers are like in the morning.Will’s got church with the family, and Meg has practice.Wouldn’t ask her to help anyway.I’m not risking her swimming career.”
“That’s fair.”Austin poured a mug from a tiny coffee maker on the trailer counter and passed it over.In chipping enamel paint, the side read,1979 Harrow Fair.“Sugar?”
“Please.And milk, if you have it.”
Austintsked.“Such a princess.”But he handed over actual creamer, not just milk, so obviously he loved Joe and wanted him to be happy.Or at least caffeinated.
Joe poured in enough liquid fat to cool the coffee to chugging temperature, then downed it and handed the mug back.Austin watched with raised brows but didn’t comment as he set the mug in the sink.“Okay,” Joe said.“Let’s go.Operation Dumpster Fire.”
“If you pour gasoline in that thing, we’re getting a divorce.”
They emptied the garage first.Austin had already repaired and sold two of the lawn mowers, and the cash was now sitting in an old coffee can in the kitchen because they weren’t opening a joint checking account just for the next six months, and trying to split all the bills fifty-fifty was insane.Now they rolled out the rain barrels.One had a long crack in the side.Austin opened it up and they filled it with other garage detritus—old newspapers and trash, wood scraps too small to be useful, holey boots and broken gardening tools.Then they tilted it onto its side and slid it into the dumpster.
That left a few useful implements—a snow shovel, pruning shears, a rake, and a snowblower that impressed even Austin by starting on the first try.Joe tidied up some plywood and two-by-fours that might yet find a home during this impromptu reno project.He leaned them against the outside wall so Austin could use his miniature blower to clear out the dust, which he did with his bandana pulled over his face.
Joe stayed out of the way.He didn’t want to inhale whatever had been growing in that garage for the past forty years either.
Finally Austin surveyed the space and declared, “Okay.Looks good, let’s do it.”
The next thing to go was the demon fridge.Austin gave Joe bombastic side-eye when he secured ratchet strapsanda padlock around the doors before they managed to wrangle the thing onto a dolly and out to its final destination.
Joe sighed with relief when the job was done.
Austin only shook his head.
For the next hour, they wrestled the mouse-eaten “soft goods” furniture out of the main floor of the house and into the dumpster.The decaying couch was the first thing to go, though Austin thought the armchair looked like it was in decent-enough shape, so that got moved to the garage instead.
With several pieces of furniture out of the way, they were able to pile the boxes more efficiently and finally excavate parts of the house that were previously unreachable.
In the living room, behind towers of boxes, newspapers, and magazines, they found a piano—an antique upright with carved details on the front legs and panels.The old mahogany-stained wood was battered, but it looked in good condition from the outside.Unable to resist the temptation, Joe lifted the key cover.Over the keyboard, in gold lettering, was the name Sherlock-Manning.Joe loved it.
Still curious, he pulled out the old bench, tested it gingerly to make sure it would stand up under his weight, and then sat down.Cautiously, he plunked a few keys to test them out.He tapped out a quick melody and didn’t want to cringe.He wouldn’t say it was in tune, exactly, but it wasn’t as catastrophically off-key as he’d expected.
“Do you play?”Austin asked, stepping in close.
“Took lessons as a kid.Mom insisted.”He tried a few quick scales to warm up his fingers.
“You any good?”Austin teased.“I mean, you haven’t been a kid in a while.”
Instead of answering, Joe smirked and then, with a quick prayer to the music gods that his fingers would remember what to do, he began.The first few notes were a bit rusty, but he quickly fell into the swing of the old Queen song.Muscle memory took hold, and when he reached the verse, he began to sing “Love of My Life.”
No one would claim that Joe was brilliant—he wasn’t about to put Michael Bublé or Harry Styles out of a job.But he could carry a tune.
