“He didn’t charge you for the shelves?”
She shakes her head. “He said he has a senior citizen price, and it’s free.”
I’m sure that’s not true, but Mrs. Wheeling is holding on to her house and her independence by the skin of her teeth, and there’s no way she could afford the going rate for built-in bookshelves. Still, to give a day and a half’s labor to her, when I know he has all that furniture to build—and maintenance to do on his own property—it’s pretty damn admirable.
“He’s a good guy,” Mrs. Wheeling says.
She’s watching me with a calculating expression.
“I’m sure he is.”
“He’s a good guy, and he’s a good dad—”
“How do you know?” I say it teasingly, but I’m not fooling either of us: I’m insanely curious.
“I see him with Jonah. He’s always showing him how to do things. Measure, cut, join. You have to have patience to show a kid how to do things. Me, I used to try to teach my girls to bake, but I’d end up ripping the measuring spoons out of their hands because they were so slow or they’d do it wrong and spill stuff or they were sloppy and I was afraid they’d ruin the recipe. I think it takes a saint to teach a kid to cook or build.”
I’m smiling, because I’ve been there with Madden—trying to teach him something I know he needs to learn, but desperately wanting to wrench whatever it is away from him so we can get it done sometime this century.
“I’m just trying to tell you, Elle, Sawyer Paulson is a good guy, a good dad, and a damn fine specimen of manhood.”
“But I’m not in the market for any of those things.” God knows it will be a long time before I’m ready to believe anything a man tells me, other than that he wants to have sex.
Mrs. Wheeling raises one sparse white eyebrow. “So you say, my dear. So you say. But sometimes you need to ride a different horse before you can be ready to sell the old one.”
My mouth falls open. “Is that actually a saying?”
“No.” She laughs—somewhere between a giggle and a cackle. I find myself hoping I will be as uninhibited in all respects as Mrs. Wheeling when I am in my eighties. “I made it up! But I think it fits, don’t you? No pun intended.”
“Mrs. Wheeling.”
“Just saying, as my grandkids are saying these days. Just saying, my dear.”