He laughs, a deep, warm rumble. I’m not going to lie to you, I’m kind of rethinking my “no dating guys in their fifties” rule before I spot the wedding band on his left hand.
“Coffee?” he asks, pouring water into the machine.
I smile. “Sure!”
“I’ll stick around for another half hour or so, but if more people show up after I leave, feel free to text me. Did Shelley give you my cell?”
“Er—no.” I take out my phone and type as he tells me his number. I sit down on the edge of the break room table as he scoops coffee into the filter. “Do you like working here?”
“Working?” Trey laughs. “This place makes, like, fifty bucks on a good day. I’m a volunteer, same as you.”
“Oh. Well—do you like it?”
“Sure. It’s a nice break from the shop. And it’s fun to pretend that people actually care about barrel-making a couple times a day.”
I laugh. I definitely like this guy. “How does the museum stay open if it doesn’t make any money?”
“Grants from the historical society, mostly.”
“It’s a shame there aren’t school tours,” I say. “Or how cool would it be to have a barrel-themed playground in the back?”
Trey chuckles. “A barrel-themed playground. That’s a good idea. Shelley would never go for it, though.”
I glance at the door, conscious that Shelley’s office is just down the hall. “Why not?”
Trey’s expression sours a little. “Her aunt Josephine ran this museum for years. She was a cooper herself, actually. One of the only female coopers in Canada, back then. She died a few years ago. Shelley would’ve just sold this place, but Jo signed it over it to the historical society.”
“Er—Shelley mentioned that, yeah,” I say. “Why does she still work here, if she doesn’t like it?”
“No clue.” Trey shrugs. “She probably gets a decent salary from the society to manage it.”
To scroll through Facebook, more like. “So there’s no way of improving things here?”
“Not unless it costs zero dollars,” Trey says. He pours me a cup of coffee from the half-full pot.
I take a sip, frowning thoughtfully. “I bet there’s still a way.”
“Well, if you come up with anything, let me know if I can help.”
“Really?”
Trey nods. “I wouldn’t mind seeing a few more people come through this place. Kids these days should learn more hands-on skills.”
An idea strikes me. “Would you be willing to teach kids’ classes?”
Trey frowns thoughtfully. “I guess. As long as they’re old enough to use the tools safely.”
“So like... six?”
Trey snorts. “You don’t have children, do you?”
“Er—no.”
“Twelve and up,” he says. “And we’d need parent consent forms.”
I grin. “Let me look into it.”
I hold out my coffee cup for him to clink. He looks amused but does it anyway. I walk back to my desk with a little more pep in my step. It’s not a career or anything, but I bet I can make a difference here.
