Page 52 of Something Borrowed

“You spent more time on your phone than building.” He reminded her.

She blushed. “Well, I left my phone at the house today. We probably won’t have Internet anyway and I’m on vacation.”

“You left your phone at the house? Wow, I’m shocked.” He leaned the ladder against the front of the house and looked at her small suitcase on the porch.

“I do things without it. Not many things, but I do. Besides, the chances of us having cell service are almost nonexistent. Now, do you want to eat or what?” She also wanted to prove to him, and herself, that she could spend an entire day without being tethered to the phone, to her job.

Her stomach grumbled. “Eat, definitely. Then you can help me board up the house.” Without another word, he grabbed her small suitcase and led the way into the house.

She grimaced, but followed him into the house from the porch area. So much for being in love.

* * *

Afew hours later, and the cottage was all set for the storm. The clouds had thickened, making day seem almost as dark as night, and waves roared in, angry with white foam, crashing against the rocks, water spraying in the air. Bands of rain had also moved in, lashing the cottage with winds and soaking rain. Brigid shivered in her clothes that were still damp from getting rained on when they were finishing boarding up the house when it had started.

Grady brought in the last of the outdoor objects like the Adirondack chairs and rocking chairs on the porch, storing them in the garage. They didn’t want those objects to become projectiles in the storm, damaging the house or other property, or causing injuries. He stamped his feet at the front door and kicked off his shoes there, shivering a little from the dampness. Brigid tossed him a towel.

“I wasn’t sure what you had here for towels, so I brought a couple of sets. Is the shower working?”

He nodded. “It’s ready for them to move in, basically. Caroline doesn’t know it, but she’s spending her wedding night here, not at the hotel. So, we have it all ready for them. I think her mom is bringing over the last touches like towels and stuff. We’ll let Caroline do the rest of the furnishing.”

“Who did the furniture?”

He grinned, blushing a little. “Mostly Caroline’s mom, but I helped, especially some of the historic touches, like those light fixtures you brought with you on Sunday. We know how much she likes the older cottage style, so we tried to find furniture that would be from when this was first built.”

“How did you know what to get?”

He walked into the living room and pointed to one wall that had a series of pictures on them. “I went to the Island Historic Society. Since they were watching us closely and controlling what we could and could not do, I figured they would have some old photos of the place and layouts from the time it was built.”

“Really? I would have never thought that.” Brigid studied the pictures closely, peering into the images and seeing the exterior from different angles.

“Well, it was the house of one of the island founders, so it was pretty important. In fact, I was surprised it was on the market at all.”

“I would have thought the island would want to keep it as a historic building.” She walked to the next set of images, which were interior shots from different eras.

“It’s too far out from the town center. They’ve settled for designating it as a landmark and controlling what can be done to it. Fortunately, the last owners had opened it up a bit on the inside, and the foundation couldn’t tell us we had to go back to the original. This living area, dining and kitchen were two rooms.”

Brigid looked around and frowned. “That would have been so small. Caroline would have hated that. Who did the fireplace?”

“I did. Thank God there was a bricklayer on the island who knew how the original was. He couldn’t do the work, but he advised me. So, I learned something new on this project.” The pride Grady took in his work was clear in every word.

She walked over to the fireplace and ran her hands over the stonework. So many stones of all sizes, fitted together perfectly to lend the room a casual but cozy air. She picked up a photo on the mantle. “Who is this?”

“Caroline when she was little right here in the backyard. I guess the people who lived here then had an annual picnic, and Caroline came to one. Her mom says that was the day Caroline said she would live here someday.”

She placed the picture back on the mantle and ran her fingers over the inlaid piece of wood and sighed. “Grady, you do beautiful work. You’re a true artist.”

He flushed at her words, then cleared his throat. “Would like a tour?”

She turned and nodded eagerly.

* * *

Once they finished the tour, it was late in the afternoon, and the storm had intensified. They had each showered quickly before they lost power and the hot water, and changed into comfortable and warm clothing, ready for a long night. Grady had inflated the air mattress for sleeping and put it to the side, out of the way, although Brigid’s gaze kept straying to it, much like her thoughts. He built a fire, and they sat around the coffee table in the living room, spreading out the picnic that Brigid had brought with her, including brisket and rice, beer, and assorted desserts to pass the time. She leaned against the white sofa and rested her head on the soft cushions, letting out a quiet exhale. Despite having to hold boards and nails and defy death-by-step ladder, her muscles were relaxed and her mind silent, for once. The ocean waves sounded through the closed and boarded windows, and the cottage shook in the wind.

“Isn’t the sound of rain against the house soothing to you?” She closed her eyes, listening to the soothing sounds of the rain.

Grady looked up from his intense study of the fire. “I hadn’t really thought about it, but I guess so.”

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