Page 58 of Forty and Fighting Dirty
“You can take turns,” Rhett replied, and the three of them went up the stairs and into the bathroom that Rhett had begun demolishing last time we were at the house together. I followed, peeking over the top of the stair banister to see Rhett handing work gloves to the kids before filling the bucket up partway and sending Nate down the stairs with it, with instructions to toss it into the dumpster out front.
I made a few trips of my own with the scraps of wallpaperborder, watching the boys hump it over and back, up the porch stairs, up to the second floor, and back down in a steady stream. They laughed and chatted, their voices underpinned by Rhett’s low rumble for the next two hours.
When the wallpaper border was completely removed, I wiped my forehead with the back of my wrist and leaned against the kitchen cabinets. Alec and Nate were heading back inside and rushing up the stairs, and Rhett greeted them warmly before the sound of drywall hitting the plastic bucket sounded from above.
The house felt alive.Ifelt alive.
That night, Nate and Alec ate a gigantic dinner and fell into bed, exhausted. As I closed the door to their room, I made a note to thank Rhett properly.
TWENTY-THREE
RHETT
I loved watchingPiper work almost as much as I loved watching her with her kids. At work, she was observant, confident, and quick on her feet. With her kids, she listened when they talked—and they listened when she did. I wondered what I’d been so afraid of when I first met her, why she’d seemed like such a threat.
She was perceptive, and she saw through my bullshit. But we’d reached a truce, and sometimes I thought she might actually like it when I was simply acting like myself.
The plumbing at the house was repaired within a couple of weeks, and I had an electrician put in a new panel and rough in some cables for new lights. Piper was in charge of choosing the lighting, and I was happy to leave that responsibility to her. The house looked like a bomb site, but I knew it would come together.
By November, it was looking like we were almost ready topaint at the house—and the possibility of opening the ski lodge by the end of the year was in sight.
Both projects were coming together because of Piper.
One Thursday evening at the beginning of November, she had the chance to show off her work on the ski lodge at a town hall meeting. Thirty-odd people showed up, including the grouchy Paul Norbit, who’d opposed the ski lodge from the beginning.
“This is nothing but a corporate takeover,” he called out as he sat cross-armed in a hard plastic chair.
Piper stood with the microphone in front of the small crowd and repeated his comment for everyone to hear. Then she said, “I understand your fears, sir, but rest assured that we have focused on our community every step of the way.”
“What do you know about our community? You didn’t grow up here.”
From where I stood, to the side of the projector screen showing progress photos of the lodge renovations, I could see Piper’s back stiffen. But she took a deep breath and inclined her head. “You’re right. But I feel lucky to have found this town, and I’ve already set down roots. My two boys go to Lovers Peak Elementary, and I have a vested interest in seeing this town thrive. This is my home now. And I have treated it that way since I came on board with the project. All the design elements that we’ve incorporated are sourced from the town first before we move further afield. All the upholstery is local, as is the feature woodwork and the stonework. We plan to feature local artists on a rotating basis throughout the lodge. This ski resort isthe furthest thing from a corporate takeover. It’s a celebration of Lovers Peak itself, both the mountain and the town.”
Paul sank deeper in his chair, his lips turning down in an almost comical frown. I shifted my gaze from him back to Piper, my chest stirring.
We were in the community center again, the same room where our fight over the Lovers Lane house had begun. Murmurs went through the assembled crowd as they considered Piper’s words. She waited a few moments to see if anyone else had comments, then turned toward me to hand me the microphone. She blew out a breath with her back to the audience, clearly relieved that her part was done.
I went on with our presentation and explained the community nights we planned to host at the resort, as well as the discounted rates for people who had local addresses. When the meeting broke off, I thought we’d done pretty well.
David, who had been standing at the back, wandered over to us. He shook my hand first, then turned to Piper, Santa Claus smile on full blast. “That was well done,” he told her.
She gave him a half grin. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to overcome the first impression I made last time we were in this room.”
David laughed. “Are you kidding? That night basically cemented you as one of us.”
Piper’s cheeks went red, but she laughed and nodded her acceptance. David gave me one last pat on the shoulder, winked at Piper, and ambled out. We watched the town hall attendees file through the doors, and Piper shookher head. “That was harder than I expected. No matter what David says, I’m afraid I haven’t made a good impression on the townspeople so far.”
“They loved you,” I replied. Her skepticism was so potent I could almost taste it in the air, and I chuckled. “I’m serious. You stood up there and made us all feel like this town is something special, and we’re all working to make it better.”
“I was so nervous my legs were shaking. I’m not real big on public speaking.”
“It didn’t seem to bother you the first time we met.”
Piper clicked her tongue and shoved at my chest, shaking her head. “Stop it. I’m embarrassed about all that.”
“All what? You standing up for the important principle of blueberry muffins going to their rightful owners?”
“That wasn’t the issue and you know it,” she said, shooting me a sideways glare—but her lips were curling at the edges. She took a deep breath like she was about to say goodbye, and suddenly I couldn’t bear to leave her. Being in her presence made me feel warm and alive in a way I couldn’t quite put into words—or maybe I didn’t want to.
