Page 23 of Just One of the Groomsmen
Tucker threw open the doors to the old shed, coughing and waving at the cloud of dust. He used to spend hours out here with his grandpa, who’d left the place and its contents to him in his will, along with the untamed two and a half acres of land it sat on.
Tucker worried Dad would be upsethehadn’t inherited it, but Dad had told him there was nothing but junk in the shed anyway.
For years, Tucker hadn’t thought much about the summers he’d spent working with his hands. But late one night, about two months back, he’d been gazing out over the city and missing home. He’d thought about those teenage years in this shed, doing the type of tiring labor that left you pleasantly exhausted by the end of the night.
Grandpa had built and restored boats as a side hobby that occasionally made money, and the one left in the shed was one he’d bought for himself, the idea that he and Tucker would fix it up that last summer before he left for college.
Only he’d passed away before they’d gotten the chance.
Right then, Tucker had resolved to fix up the dilapidated boat.
He hadn’t realized how many years it would take him to get to it, and he’d definitely never thought of doing it as a sort of test run business idea.
He wasn’t sure if it was a plausible career. But the other morning, as he’d been watching all the types of ships gliding over the glittering surface of Lake Jocassee, a plan had formulated.
There were tons of old boats in need of repair, and he had the skill set and tools. Anyway, he hoped he still did.
He wished Grandpa were around to give him advice. To tell him when he hadn’t shaved down the wood enough or to stand across from him and admire his handiwork, even as Tucker wondered why he didn’t jump in so they could get done sooner. Why he made him redo sections he’d deemed “good enough.”
Now he appreciated that his grandfather had put in the time to teach him to do it himself, and to do it well.
Tucker surveyed the tools, noted which ones needed upgrading and which boat repairs to start with, and made a quick run into town. He asked Easton if he could borrow his truck, which was tricked out for fun, mud-bogging reasons, as well as the fact that he worked on the search and rescue team with Ford when needed. His friend let him borrow it, no questions asked, and as he drove the load of lumber, tools, and other supplies back down the bumpy road, he knew he’d made the right choice.
As nice as his Prius had been in the city, it was no match for these dirt back roads with their deep ruts and grooves. Not like he could’ve loaded the lumber into his car’s trunk anyway.
I’m definitely gonna need to upgrade to a truck.
Which of course cost money, and his heart beat faster as he stressed over how much start-up cash a new business required.
Shoving that away to be worried over later, he unloaded the wood and pulled out the saw. Then he got to work, his thoughts on the day he’d be able to take the refurbished boat out on the lake.
He knew who he wanted to be in the boat with him for that first ride, too.
As friends, of course.
Then he could tell Addie his plan, and she’d give it to him straight and hopefully help him figure out how to do it. Since her fear of alligators was one of the few semigirly things about her, persuading her to go out on the water with him would be the hardest part.
Despite his spouted statistics and the many reassurances about the boat’s safety features, it took years to convince her how fun the lake could be. He’d beenthis closeto getting her to admit that fishing wasn’t “totally boring” like she’d always claimed—mostly because she refused to admit to her fear of alligators—when he’d screwed it up.
His seventeen-year-old brain clearly hadn’t been firing on all cylinders when he’d decided it would be funny to show herLake Placid,an older horror movie about a giant gator.
After that, it took bribery and just about carrying her on board kicking and screaming to get her to go way out to the center of the lake.
His brain snagged on the kicking and screaming image too long.
How fun it’d be to throw her over his shoulder and—and then put her down nicely in the boat. Yeah, that was it. Friends giving each other a hard time.
Just friends.
…
Tucker cut across the town square, glancing around for the familiar brown ponytail.
He’d put in a solid three days on the boat, and as he’d been forcing his stiff muscles to power through this afternoon, it felt like his arms were a hair from giving out. Now they were in the limp noodle range.
Addie had teased him about being out of shape after sitting behind a desk for so long, and while his gym sessions had kept him fit, he was feeling the burn.
There was just something different about manual labor, gym or not.
