“Okay.” Wendy did not want to drive to Portland.
He looked around the bathroom. “Your fixtures look to be in good shape. Shouldn’t need to replace anything. Well, unless you’re wanting fancy updates.”
“No,” she said quickly. “I like the old-fashioned look in here.”
He tapped a shower wall. “Sure hope that dry rot don’t go clear behind here. Hate to have to tear this out.” He bent down and poked with his screwdriver again.
She frowned. “How does it look?”
“Hard to say.” He stood. “Gotta open it up to find out.” He turned to Jackson. “Wanna help me get some tools and things from my truck?”
“Sure.” Jackson nodded.
“I guess I’ll go to the hardware store,” Wendy said. “Jackson, I’ve got my phone. If anything comes up, you just call me, okay?”
“Sure.” He paused from following Gordon. “Are you okay, Mom?”
“Okay?”She smiled stiffly. “Yeah, sure, of course.”
“Are you worried about money?” he persisted.
She shrugged. “Well, I hadn’t really planned on these kinds of expenses.”
“Remember how you always used to say that God takes care of us,” he reminded her. “You and Dad used to tell me God will provide what we need.”
“You’re right, Jackson.” She sighed. From the mouths of babes ... or preadolescents. “Thanks.”
“So maybe we just need to trust him more.”
Her smile grew more genuine. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
As she drove to town, Wendy pondered Jackson’s reminder. Didn’t she used to trust God to provide? She and Edward had both believed that God would meet all their needs. When had she quit? Was it when Edward got sick? Or when they paid more than they had saved for medical treatment that didn’t work? Or after he was gone and all the bills kept pouring in? She wasn’t even sure, but she knew that Jackson was right—she had forgotten. She wasn’t even sure she believed it anymore. For Jackson’s sake, she wanted to believe it. But in light of life these past few years ... well, it felt impossible.
Driving through town, she marveled at the many improvements. From the sidewalk pavers to charming streetlamps to the variety of businesses, the village looked bigger and better than ever. Even the city park looked clean and fresh, with sturdy benches and inviting picnic tables. She parked across the street from the hardware store, noticing that several shops and a couple of restaurants appeared to be open. Seaside was not nearly as dead as she’d imagined it would be during the off-season.
Noticing a big plush turkey in the toy-store window, she remembered this was Thanksgiving week. Perhaps that was why the town felt lively. Maybe tourists were here for the holiday week. Next to the toy store was one of her favorite shops, She Sells Sea Shells. Wendy was glad to see it was still in business. Someday she’d have to take Jackson in there. Next to the shell shop was an elegant-looking furniture store called Driftwood. That was new. She peered in the window to see some gorgeous pieces of expensive-looking furniture. If money were no object, she’d love to get some of those pieces for the beach cottage. Unfortunately, that was not going to happen.
Wendy breathed deeply as she crossed the street at the corner. The sea air was incredibly energizing. So clean and fresh and invigorating. Even the fishy smell wafting in from the docks didn’t bother her. It never had. The hardware store looked pretty much the same as she recalled. At least on the outside. When she wheeled a cart through, she could see that it had been modernized and was much better stocked than she remembered. The good signage helped her quickly find the camping aisle. Hopefully Gordon was right about finding a portable camp toilet here, but the more she looked, the less hopeful she felt. Was there really such a thing?
“Need some help?”
She glanced up to see a tall man with dark wavy hair. Dressed casually in faded blue jeans and a plaid flannel shirt, he appeared to be carefully checking her out. He likely suspected she wasn’t a local. Hardware store employees were probably familiar with everyone in this small town. “I’m looking for, uh, a temporary toilet,” she said with a bit of embarrassment. “You know, the kind they take camping. Do you have anything like that?”
His dark brows arched with amusement. “Going camping this time of year?”
“No.” She hid her irritation at his freshness. “Our bathroom is being torn out and we need something to—”
“Oh, yeah, I get it.” He nodded. “But if you’re under construction, you should consider getting an outhouse so that your workers—”
“That’s not necessary,” she declared. “The project should only take a day or two.”
“Okay.” He slowly led her to the end of the aisle. “Looks like a couple of options right here.” He pointed to some boxes. “Now, if it were me, I’d go with this model.” He tapped the biggest box. “Looks sturdier. Not that you’d need a particularly hefty potty yourself.” He chuckled like this was highly amusing, and she could tell by the way he was talking that he actually knew nothing about the products he was attempting to sell her. Wendy couldn’t believe she was standing here discussing toilets with a perfect stranger. Not that he was perfect—although hewasrather attractive. But she didn’t appreciate him making fun of her—and he was obviously enjoying her discomfort a bit too much. Maybe he’d forgotten to study the customer service section in his employees’ manual.
“Fine,” she retorted. “I’ll take that one.”
He reached down to pick it up. “It’s a little big for your cart. How about I take it up front for you?”
“Thank you,” she said crisply.
