Tessa wanted to tell Paul what she’d just seen out the attic window, imagined or not, and about the photo album showing Crazy Kate attending a backyard wedding. But maybe what she needed more was distance—distance between Paul and her growing attachment to him, especially since he planned to leave at the end of the weekend. She silenced the phone.
Tessa pulled out her notebook and tapped it against her palm. “I need a plan. I need a place to stay. I can stay here, but I’ll need . . . a bed.” She flipped through the pages of questions. Most of them had three numbers filled in with advice offered to her by friends and family, until she reached the newest pages. She’d been impulsive and what her mama would callreckless. She’d bought a house, and not justanyhouse. A massive fixer-upper that might financially bankrupt her.
Tessa closed the notebook and slipped it back into her pocket. Looking around the dimly lit attic, she said, “Maybe staying here won’t be so bad. It’ll be like camping. Even though I hate camping and bugs and killer bats and no toilets . . . but this is campingindoors.”Is it?“I’d better check the plumbing.”
Tessa found Charlie downstairs finishing up with the workers. She pulled Charlie aside. “How about the pipes?”
Charlie stared at her with her deep-brown eyes. “Could you be more specific?”
“The plumbing. Can I use the water? Or the toilets? Or justatoilet would be nice because I justcan’tstay here without a working toilet, and Ihaveto stay here. I mean, what would I do without a toilet? I couldneveruse the backyard as a bathroom—”
Charlie waved her hands around. “Whoa, whoa. Hold on a minute, will ya? I feel as though you’re about to get an eye twitch.”
Tessa lifted her fingers to her left eye and pressed. “I almost unraveled. Sorry.”
“Almost?” Charlie asked. “The pipes are good. They were updated a few years ago, so there are no problems with the plumbing that we know about. The water was never shut off, for whatever reason. I have a contact down at the water works, and she told me that it’s still on. Here, I’ll show you.” Charlie led Tessa into the downstairs bathroom where Tessa had found the cat. Charlie flushed the toilet, and Tessa watched the vortex of water swirl in the dirty bowl and disappear.
“That’s a relief.”
Charlie nodded. “No backyard bathrooms for you. Are you planning on moving in here? I mean, before it’s finished?”
Tessa felt her confidence wobble, and she wished for more of Cecilia’s Courage Quiche. “Tonight.”
Charlie’s lips pulled into a grimace. “I’m not sure that’s a great idea.”
“Oh, it’s not, but it’s the only plan I’ve come up with so far.”
Charlie jabbed her thumb over her shoulder. “There aren’t doors in the kitchen. There’s a tarp keeping the outside from creeping in.”
Tessa walked out of the bathroom, up the short hallway, and into the kitchen. She stared at the thick canvas material covering the busted-up French doors. “It’ll be like camping.”
“Don’t you have somewhere else you could stay?”
Tessa shook her head. “Nope. This is it. This is my home.” The wordhometingled her lips. “My only other option is to stay in a one-bedroom apartment with a handsome Italian traveler who cooks like a chef.”
Charlie’s eyes widened, and she smirked. “And you’re choosingthisover him? Should I even ask why?”
Tessa’s heart expanded and forced a sigh from her lips. “Best not to.” She glanced around the kitchen, her gaze lingering on the graffiti. “When can they start?”
“A few are heading out to gather supplies, and they’ll be back in a couple of hours. Now that I know you’re planning on staying here, we might want to check this framing and get a new pair of doors installed.” Charlie lifted the tarp and studied the walls around the French doors.
An older man shaped like a wine barrel with a frizzy halo of graying hair, stepped into the kitchen. “You the one fixing this place up?”
Tessa nodded. “That’s my hope.”
He scratched the coarse stubble on his cheek. “When my mama’s house burned twenty years ago, Dr. Hamilton let my parents and me stay here for a few months. I remember walking around this place, thinking it was a castle. He was a good man, and I’d hate to see this place fall apart.” He stepped closer to the tarp. “Looks like you need a pair of doors.”
“French doors,” Charlie confirmed.
“I got a pair in my garage,” he said. “The lady at the last build decided against them, and I was gonna return them next week, but if you’re needing a pair . . .”
“Seriously?” Tessa said. A guy who had been spontaneously called to help rebuild Honeysuckle Hollow had just what the house needed. Some of the tension in Tessa’s shoulders released.
Charlie asked, “You think they’ll work?”
He nodded. “I measured the opening earlier. They’re a perfect fit. I can probably get them installed today if the walls around it are sound.”
Charlie rapped her knuckles against the wood framing the opening. “They’re solid and undamaged by the break in.”
