Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“Number 910. That’s our house.” The happy expression on his face turned a little wistful. “Betty and I had a lot of good years there. Raised four boys.”
“I’ll definitely check it out. I love old homes.”
“Terrific! Would you like to come for iced tea sometime? After I retired, Betty and I used to have tea and apple pie on the porch every afternoon. I sometimes have it alone now, but it’s not the same without someone to talk with. My kids and grandkids visit, but they’re all so busy . . .” His voice trailed off, his smile fading.
My heart went out to him. “I’d love to come visit. And I’ll bring you an apple pie.”
He took my arm. “You’re a good girl. Now let’s get you some paint.”
With Mr. Frankel’s help, I chose a shade called White Dove, then I called Griffin to ask what other supplies we’d need to get the job done this weekend. I didn’t want to purchase anything he already had.
“We’re repainting the lobby this weekend?” he asked, clearly surprised.
“Yes. Do you have painter’s tape?” I inquired, looking at the shelves in front of me.
“Yes. And brushes, trays and rollers somewhere. But grab a couple liners and also some caulk.”
“Caulk? I don’t know what that is, but okay.”
Griffin laughed. “Frankel will know. And tell him to put it on my tab.”
“Okay.”
“How are you going to get everything back here?” Griffin asked. “Should I come get you?”
“He was going to have it all delivered.”
“I’ll come get you. Sit tight, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Perfect.” I smiled. “Oh, by the way, Mr. Frankel says he’ll give us a ten percent discount as a wedding gift.”
Griffin exhaled audibly. “I give up. Tell him thanks.”
We unloaded the paint and supplies in the lobby and locked the front door. Griffin said he still had some things to do, so while he finished up work, I walked over to the Maple Street Market and bought groceries for the picnic I was planning for tonight.
I had just unpacked the bags when my cell phone rang—it was Frannie MacAllister.
Saying a quick prayer, I answered it. “Hello?”
“Hi, is this Blair?”
“Yes. Is this Frannie?”
“Yes. I’m sorry it took me a while to get back to you. Between my shop and my three stepdaughters, I rarely get a spare minute.”
“That’s okay. I hope it’s all right that Cheyenne gave me your number.”
“Of course! She called me this morning and told me about you, and I’m convinced this has to be fate, because I literally just said to my husband the other night, ‘I could really use some full-time help at the shop this fall.’” She laughed and lowered her voice. “I’m pregnant with twins, due in March.”
I gasped. “Oh my goodness! Congratulations!”
“Thank you. I’m still trying to wrap my brain around it, you know?”
“I bet.”
“Anyway, I have someone working for me who’s really talented but she’s going back to school in a week.”
“I’m sort of committed here in Bellamy Creek until Labor Day,” I hedged.
“No problem,” Frannie said. “I can cover things until you’re ready to start. Would there be a day you could come up to Traverse City and interview? We could talk about the position and make sure it’s the right fit?”
“I’d love that! I’ll need to look at places to live too. I’m sort of . . . starting over from scratch, so to speak.”
“I totally understand, and I’ve lived here all my life, so I can help.”
My throat lumped up. “Thank you so much, Frannie. I’m about to cry. You have no idea what this means to me.”
“You’re very welcome. Cheyenne told me your story, and I completely sympathized. I had to get out from under my parents’ roof and do my own thing too. It’s not easy.”
“Well, from what I’ve heard, you’re crazy successful, so I know I could learn a lot working for you. I have to wait for my car to be fixed before I can get to Traverse City, so would next weekend be okay?”
“Sure! How about next Saturday around four o’clock? Week from tomorrow?”
“That sounds good.”
“Great. See you then.”
I thanked her again and ended the call, put the interview date in my calendar, and allowed myself a little victory dance. Then I turned on some Kacey Musgraves and hummed along as I made dough for a galette, and while it chilled I put together a filling with spinach, caramelized onions, white beans, and Gruyère.
While it was in the oven, Griffin came up the stairs, stopped at the top, and sniffed. “What is that smell? It’s fucking amazing.”
“It’s dinner.” I turned down the music and continued rinsing a bunch of grapes.
“You made dinner?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you wanted to go for a drive.”
“I do.” I transferred the grapes to a plastic bag. “That’s why I’m packing us a picnic in the basket Mrs. Applebee sent our wedding gift in. Got an old blanket we could use?”