I nodded, and she took the stack from me, placing it in the folder on her desk. She kept her eyes downcast, and that was a crime. I didn’t want her to hide from me or for things to be awkward.
“Gwen,” I said, my voice commanding her attention. She lifted her chin, her eyes locking with mine. I choked on my words. I didn’t know what to say to make the situation less than…what it was.
“It’s okay,” she said, giving me a small smile. She tapped the side of her nose just above the sterling hoop and winked. “Let’s just forget about Friday night and start over.”
“Sounds good,” I responded, the words feeling wrong.
“Enjoy your first day,” she said, her smile a little pinched like she was just as eager to escape the discomfort as I was.
“Thanks,” I said, nodding at her. I went to my truck to get my welding helmet, gloves, and toolbox. When I returned to the office, my new boss was waiting for me.
“Gwen says you’re done with the paperwork.” Russell Williams grinned. “Ready to start welding?”
“Absolutely,” I said, smiling and doing my best to ignore the heavy knowledge that my boss was Gwen’s father. He’d likely fire my ass if he knew what I’d done to her over the weekend.
I followed Russell down the hall to the metal door that opened into the large shop.
“Since you’re an ironworker, I won’t waste your time or mine having you paint the first week. I’m going to throw you straight into it. Cut, assemble, and weld the handrails. You’ll find the blueprints are already at your station,” Russell said after giving me a quick tour and introducing me to the other welders working in the shop.
Once he left me to it, I got to work, losing myself in the task.
At the end of the day, I had all my pieces cut and laid out. More than half the rails were already tacked together. Russell looked on, inspecting my welds, his brow rising. “Great job, son. Welcome to the team,” he said, shaking my hand.
Satisfied that I’d managed to impress the boss on my first day, I grabbed my gear and headed out through the metal door at the side of the shop. My head turned as I passed the two glass doors that led to the office.
I could see Gwen through the panes, standing at her desk, looking at something on her computer screen. She glanced up when I walked by, and our eyes locked.
She smiled tentatively, and I smiled back. I didn’t want her thinking I was pissed at her—I wasn’t. A little thrown, maybe, but it wasn’t her fault. Neither one of us had really talked about what we did for a living.
That was the problem with small town hookups. I should have known better. But Gwen had given me a pass, and I was going to have to put that night behind me.
I tossed my gear in the bed of my truck and climbed behind the steering wheel, closing the door. The engine rumbled to life as the glass doors to the office opened, and Gwen stepped outside. She locked it behind her, adjusted her purse strap on her shoulder, and turned, walking to a red Mazda, pausing to open the door. She looked up, catching me watching her, and gave me a coy smile before climbing into her vehicle.
Shaking my head, I backed from my spot and headed home, driving up 28 with the windows down. I pulled into my gravel driveway, parking in front of the double-vehicle garage.
I sat in the silence of the cab for a few moments, looking at the house. I’d bought it because I could picture myself living there with my daughter. The house was perfect for us. It was a restored and renovated five-bedroom, two bath farmhouse that sat on twenty-six acres of land.
The previous owners had kept the traditional features and added modern amenities. They’d put a lot of work into the house to sell it, decorating it in warm contemporary tones, which wasn’t my first pick, but Sawyer loved it. I’d adjusted comfortably enough to it.
It was bigger than I’d planned on purchasing, but the price was right. I could weld in my garage, and with a functional barn to the north of the house, I could get some farm animals for Sawyer.
There was plenty of space for her, too. But when my daughter wasn’t around, the house was way too big. The silence echoed, and it made me feel displaced. I’d spent a lot of my time in the garage, tinkering on projects to keep busy.
Four more days, I told myself, moving out of the cab. I grabbed my work gear, bringing it into the garage and setting it down on my workbench. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I checked for messages. I’d missed a call from my mother, and guilt churned in my stomach.
I needed to decompress before I faced that particular storm. Shoving my phone into my back pocket, I left the garage and walked into the house. The connecting door opened to a small room off the foyer with a sink, counter, storage, and rods to hang coats.
On the other side of the foyer was the great room. My last house hadn’t had quite so many rooms, and I was at a loss for what to do with it. The entire back wall was brick, with a brick enclave for firewood.
A hallway led from the great room to the eat-in kitchen. It was a little clinical for me, with its shaker cabinets, white quartz counter, and classic subway tile backsplash, but I could always change that.
The dining room on the west side of the house had a huge bay window. Between the dining room and the mudroom was an old wood-stove, which helped heat the main floor during the winter months.
One of the five bedrooms backed off the dining room. It was the smallest of the bedrooms, and it was currently filled with boxes and other random things I hadn’t gotten a chance to unpack.
The living room sat off to the left of the kitchen. At the back of the house were the laundry room and mudroom, with a door leading to the back porch. Directly across from the mudroom was the wooden staircase that led to the second floor.
Moving through the kitchen, I emptied my pockets, setting the contents on the counter as I walked into the laundry room. I tugged my work clothes off and tossed them into the stackable washing machine before jogging upstairs to the bathroom.
