Page 106 of Conrad

The last time he’d worked on it eluded him.

The local news lifted from an old transistor, and he turned, spotting his father in the woodshop, holding a chisel and scraping a scrolled piano leg clamped in a wood vice.

He walked over. “Hey, Dad.”

His dad jerked, looked up. “Hey, son. I didn’t know you were here.”

Conrad shoved his hands into his pockets. “Had a thing happen.”

His father had stopped chiseling and now blew out the chips, stood up. They’d landed on his flannel work jacket, a few on his gray wool hat. Putting down the chisel, he walked over to a thermos and poured himself a cup of coffee. Gestured to the boat. “Anytime you want to finish sanding her, I’m ready to help.”

“I got embroiled in Jack’s new project.”

“Me too.” He took a sip.

“And frankly, I keep looking at all the mistakes I’ve made, trying to repair the boat.” Conrad walked over, started running his hand over the hull. “I should have seen this rot earlier, but I just varnished over it. I’ll have to rip out these boards and redo it.”

His father lifted a shoulder. “So you redo it. More time for us to chat.”

He let a smile free. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“That’s because you’re only looking at your mistakes. From my point of view, the longer it takes for you to get her in the water, the more time I get to spend with my son. Which, from my point of view, isn’t nearly enough time.”

“Sorry.”

“No need to apologize for your life, Conrad. I’m a fan. But I do enjoy it when you show up.” He set his coffee down. “What thing happened?”

Aw.“Penelope and I are investigating a murder for her podcast, and . . . well . . .” He ran a hand behind his neck. “We sort of uncovered a dead body.”

His father’s mouth opened.

“I called Jack’s lawyer friend, and he’s sorting it out. But . . .” He shook his head. “I’m not sure how I got this far into trouble.”

“With the murder investigation, or with Penelope Pepper?”

Conrad had been scrutinizing the sailboat and now glanced at his father. Raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve been showing up with her a lot recently. Your mother keeps track of your social media.”

Oh. That.But, “Yes. We’re . . . friends.”

“Looks like more than that. She was wearing your jersey at the last game.”

“You saw that, huh?”

“You didn’t seem to mind.” He winked.

Conrad nodded, found a smile. “I like her. She’s . . . smart. Fun . . .”

“And exciting.”

Oh.“I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Maybe not. Maybe you don’t see it, but you like excitement. You’re a guy who just jumps in first, thinks second.”

“I try not to. I’m working on that.”

“Oh, I know. Because then you spend years trying to untangle your past.” Grover walked back to the piano leg. “You can’t do anything about the past, son. You just have to learn from it and keep moving.” He pointed to his project. “I repaired this years ago, but it was still weak, and it nearly broke on a guest. So now I need to go back and fix it again.” He picked up a piece of sandpaper. “The thing is, when I first fixed it, I didn’t have the skills I do now, so now I can go back and redo it, make it stronger. And now I’m repairing the entire bench, restaining, varnishing. It’ll be like new, only sturdier.” He looked up at Conrad. “I know you spend way too much time in your head, son. It might be genetic, because I’ve spent hours out here ruminating as I’m sanding. But what you’re forgetting is that all things are used by God for good in your life, if you trust Him. He’s in the process of making you stronger.”

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