“Quiet and long.”
“Is Trent here?”
“Not yet.”
“And he hasn’t been in touch?”
“Nope.”
“I’m sorry, Em.”
“Yeah. Me too. How was your evening?”
“I didn’t sleep well.”
“Oh, Michael. I’m sorry if this kept you up.”
“Thanks, but it wasn’t just the issue with Trent. I haven’t been sleeping well for a while.”
Upon hearing this, her worries about Trent flew out the window. There was a tightness at the corners of Michael’s mouth. Something inside her chest tightened in response. “Anything I can do?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, I hope you sleep better tonight.”
“Thanks.” Michael grinned. “Let’s head inside.”
What would cause Michael to sleep poorly? She hoped it wasn’t stress over her renovation. He claimed it was going smoothly, but perhaps it was just too big a project.
Giving herself a mental wrist slap, she tried to stop obsessing over Michael’s lack of sleep. She didn’t have the luxury of sorting out his problems when she could barely sort her own, never mind Trent’s.
She checked her phone for any last-minute messages from her fiancé, but there were none. He should have been at the house by now and he certainly should have spoken to her about his conversation with Michael. What could Michael possibly have overheard? Emily realized now she shouldn’t have avoided the issue at the bar the previous evening, but something had told her it wasn’t good, and she just hadn’t been prepared to hear it.
But after a fitful sleep and hours of wondering, she was ready.
Only now, as they were about to demolish a wall, she had to banish her curiosity. As soon as Trent arrived and they found a quiet moment, she’d confront him and demand answers.
For now, she had to devote her attention to the task at hand. Michael’s plan involved a demolition of the interior wall that separated the foyer and the living space. When her grandmother’s house was built, it was before open-concept floor plans were popular. As a result, the main floor, with its enclosed rooms, felt tight and cramped by today’s standards. The floor plan might have worked for a house, but would never do for a retail space.
Emily had already discussed the demolition of the wall with Michael weeks before, but now that the hour was upon her, old nerves resurfaced. Although theHandymencrew knew what they were doing, she still had visions of her grandmother’s house tumbling down around them, pinning her under like the Wicked Witch of the East.
Michael recognized her fears then and he saw them again this morning. He pulled her aside. “Before I allow anyone in the crew to pick up a sledgehammer, I’m going to prove to you the house won’t collapse. Come with me.”
After grabbing a quick coffee and bagels at the craft service table with the rest of the crew, Michael led Emily upstairs, to the room directly above the wall. “I’ll show you how I know this isn’t a load-bearing wall. First of all, we have open space above the wall we want to demolish. This tells me it’s not supporting any beams or other walls.”
“That makes sense.”
Emily would have taken him at his word then, but Michael didn’t seem content to stop there. He led her back downstairs to where he’d stowed his copy of the original blueprints to the house. He set it on a work table and flipped to a page entitled Main Level Framing Plan. “See these lines going back and forth? They indicate floor joists. A load-bearing wall will often be perpendicular to the floor joists. These are parallel to the wall in question.” He smiled. “So you’re safe.”
With me. She could almost hear the words he hadn’t voiced.
Don’t be so silly. You’re getting carried away by being on a TV set. This ain’tThe Bachelorand you’re not holding a rose, sister.
Standing so close to him, Emily had yet another chance to admire his eyes. Dark brown and warm, the skin around them crinkled when he smiled.
She’d always been a sucker for a good eye crinkle.
“Thanks, Michael. I appreciate your explanation.”
