Page 20 of Pretty Relentless

As much as I hate leaving my daughter, duty calls, and the thought of spending some time with the gorgeous Ava goes a long way to ease the ache of missing my kid. Pulling out of Julia’sdriveway, I turn my focus on the roadway. The heavier snow has been removed, leaving just remnants of melting slush in its wake. I’m sure the city has been up and working since the snow stopped falling in the early morning hours.

Driving toward Ava’s, I spot several driveways already cleaned off. In our small town, you have three options for snow removal. Do it yourself, pay a high schooler who’s always looking for cash, or hire Marcus. He isn’t just the mechanic and tow truck driver, he plows too. The man is busier than anyone I know, and despite being a little rough around the edges, he’s a pretty good dude.

I follow the road to Strawberry Hill, recalling how I found Ava on the side of the road just over a week ago. She looked positively gorgeous in the dress, her hair hanging down in big curls that begged for my fingers. Dropping her off at her doorstep was the easiest, yet hardest, decision I’ve made in quite some time. Not because the physical act of leaving was hard, but simply because I didn’t want to go. I wanted to hang out with her, get to know her better, and maybe steal a kiss or two before I left.

Turns out, this crush is a living, breathing entity that thrives on the sight of her. When she’s not around, I don’t wonder what she’s doing. However, after seeing her somewhere, my brain can’t stop thinking about her.

It’s like high school again, but worse.

The only positive is the fact I’m not afraid to go after what I want now.

And that just so happens to be more time with Miss Ava Rutledge.

Making a left, I pull onto her road and park in her driveway. The porch is definitely in rough shape. I hadn’t even noticed it last Friday when I was here, didn’t recognize any warps or sags to the wood. At first glance I’m going to assumeeither her posts rotted or the braces. I’m really hoping it’s the former in this case. If there’s brace or truss damage, then a part of the roof may need to come off too.

Just as I climb out of my truck and slip my hammer into the hoop on my jeans, I spot Ava walking through the side door on the front of the garage. She’s bundled up beneath a heavy winter coat and a stocking cap, her hands covered in thick gloves. “I was hoping to see you again soon, but not for this reason.”

She flashes me a small, pained smile. “Yeah, this wasn’t how I planned to spend my New Year’s Eve.”

I walk toward the front porch, taking a look at the structure. “What happened?” I ask unnecessarily. Really, I can figure it out by looking at the damage, but I love the sound of her voice, so the longer I keep her talking, the better.

Ava goes through what happened, including having her dad come over and help board up the window. I’ve known Jude Rutledge most of my life. I’ve done work at his house, as well as his farm a time or two over the years. He’s incredibly handy, but there are some things he just won’t do himself. Roofing is one of them, as is drywall and flooring. I’ve been hired to do all three in the last five years, including the roof of his large barn at the farm.

“Well, let’s take a look, shall we?” I walk up her stairs and scan the posts that once held her porch roof. “If you want to go inside, I can meet you around back when I’m done.”

“I’m all right,” she quickly replies, stepping to the side to stay out of the way as I carefully check her fallen porch.

It doesn’t take me long to assess the damage from the ground and what I can see from the porch, so when that’s complete, I grab my six-foot ladder from my truck. I spend the next several minutes checking the braces, trusses, and the overhang. I climb down and can move the hanging roof enoughto see behind it. The storm door might have some damage, but it doesn’t appear too bad, and the window will definitely need to be replaced.

“All right,” I say, folding up my ladder and carrying it over to my truck. I prop it against the bed, grab my notepad from the cab, and return my attention to Ava. “It’s not terrible but does need some attention, sooner rather than later. Can I check the window integrity from the inside?”

“Of course,” she replies instantly and turns to head toward the garage.

I follow behind, noting the older blue siding, which is probably the original stuff when they built the house in the eighties. This entire subdivision went up over a fifteen-year span before I was born, but I’ve learned enough about this town over the last decade to know some history, especially when it comes to dwellings. The old farmhouse at the end of the road was built in the early nineteen hundreds, and when the former owners sold the land in the seventies, a young developer scooped it all up and started erecting houses, fourteen in all.

“Come on in,” she says, stepping through the door of the garage. It’s a nice two-car unit, with storage shelves along the back wall. She keeps it well organized, but that doesn’t surprise me. Ava appears to be the type who appreciates everything in order and in its rightful place.

We walk through the door leading to the mudroom. “You don’t have to take off your boots,” she says, slipping hers off and placing them on a mat to dry.

No way am I walking through her house with wet boots, so I set my notebook down on the dryer and begin unlacing.

“That’s not necessary,” she says.

“It is,” I insist. The moment my boots are off and not leaving puddles of water on her floor, I grab my notebook and say, “Let’s take a look.”

We walk through a neat eat-in kitchen to the living room, where a piece of plywood is nailed to the trim. The room is much darker, thanks to the blocked natural light. “I’m going to take this down,” I tell her, pulling my hammer out of my jeans.

She nods, while I get to work removing the material used to keep the window from caving in.

When it’s down, I’m able to assess the damage. “Well, bad news is you definitely need a new window, but from what I can see, it doesn’t appear to have damaged the frame. I can order you a new window,” I say, pulling out the tape measure always attached to my hip and taking the measurements I need.

“How much do you think that’ll cost?”

My phone vibrates in my pocket, but I ignore it while I grab my notepad and pen and start making rough estimates. “Well, I’ll figure on the high end for the window. On Monday, I’ll be able to get the real cost for you. Labor and materials may fluctuate a little, but only if we get in there and there’s damage beneath the shingles or something.”

I hear her sigh and glance up from my notepad. “Sorry, I just wasn’t anticipating this expense right now. I just got my car back yesterday from Marcus, and now this. I guess they say when it rains, it pours. Or in this case, it snows,” she replies with an awkward chuckle.

“The most cost-effective option would be to replace the posts and rebuild the lean-to porch, but I’ll be honest, it’s not your best option.”

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