Page 45 of Merry Little Sugar Rush
I stand in the open doorway, staring, my jaw unhinged in complete shock.
“What the hell?” I mutter, stepping inside the shed and closing the door. I find the light switches and bathe the entire space in light.
All I can do is gape.
Gramps has an entire woodworking shop in here, and I had no clue.
Running my hand down my face, I just take in the sight of his space. I don’t really remember him being in here, and when he was, I was too busy doing my own thing to worry about what was inside. Now, I wish I would have paid closer attention, maybe spent some time here with him. I’ve always loved woodworkingand have made a career out of it. I learned a lot from my neighbor, but could you imagine if I had also been able to learn from Gramps too?
I notice the pile of wood sitting off to the side. There’s a variety of scraps and odds and ends all thrown together. My mind starts to work, as it always does when I see random pieces of wood. What can I make with that?
I shake off the thought, because that’s not what I’m here for. I told Gram I’d help get this place ready for Gramps’s return, and that’s what I’ll do.
But first…I take a tour of his shop.
He has everything you need and a handful of wants too. Table saw, band saw, miter saw, wood lathe, and more. Not to mention a wall of hand tools, all in their own spot, and every accessory you can possibly think of.
This place is a replica of my own shop back at home.
I shake my head as I take in the tools, surprised, yet not surprised. Gramps has always been handy around the property, that I remember from when I was younger. So it really doesn’t shock me too much that he’d have a hobby where he works with his hands. I guess to discover we have this in common just strikes a chord.
After spending time admiring his shop, I move to the scrap pile of wood and start sorting it. Some of it needs to go straight to the burn pit, as Gram suggested, but there’s a few decent pieces here, and my brain instantly starts spinning ideas. I lay the good pieces across the workstation in the middle of the room and check them over.
Then, I get to work.
When I finish, I step back and smile at the multi-bottle wine bottle and glass holder. It’s not stained or finished yet, but it’s a great, random piece. I didn’t use any template, just went with my gut, and that rarely leads me astray.
I leave the piece I made sitting on the table and start sweeping up the wood shavings and tossing the scraps into a bucket. I haul the pieces I’m going to burn outside and place them in the firepit. When I remove the larger scraps, I find a torch lighter sitting on the shelf and bring it along. After all the wood Gram requested I move is out of the building, I light the firepit and step back to watch.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I’m instantly hit with a mix of emotions. I’m anxious, hoping it’s Joy who’s messaging me, and I feel terrible I didn’t let her know when I was back from my visit with Gramps.
Joy
I hope you enjoyed your visit. Heading to bed and was wanting to tell you goodnight.
Instead of replying to her text, I hit the phone icon and bring the phone to my ear.
“Hello?” she answers, her smile evident in her voice.
“Hey, beautiful. Hope I’m not waking you up.”
Her chuckle comes through the phone line as she replies, “I just sent you a text less than thirty seconds ago.”
Grinning from ear to ear, I take a seat on a stump near the firepit. I stare at the glow of the flames as they dance across the dark sky, grateful to be close enough to feel the heat, since I’m not wearing a coat. “I know, but maybe you’re the type of person who falls asleep the moment her head hits the pillow,” I reason.
“Oh, I assure you, I am not that person. As tired as I am at the end of the day, sometimes it’s hard to fall asleep early, especially if the sun is still out in the summer. I like to read to help me fall asleep, but sometimes that can have the opposite effect,” she says with a giggle.
“I like quiet. Just me and my fan.”
Her gasp echoes through the device in my hand. “A fan? Say it isn’t so, Burkey Turkey.”
“Oh, it’s so, Easy-Bake. A fan is a requirement. I even have a small portable one I travel with.”
She snorts. “Of course you do.”
“And let me guess, you’re always cold and have ten blankets on your bed.” I’m totally picturing her lying in bed right now—naked, because it’s my fantasy—and burrowed in the middle of a mountain of blankets.
“Not quite ten, but I do have two. My favorite Christmas quilt is there, but I also have a really soft fleece blanket I snuggle with, because there’s nothing worse than cold sheets.”
