“Not today, but I’m hoping to spend some time here soon.”
The man held out his hand. “I’m Patrick Devlin. When you’re ready, you’re welcome to join us. Between Stan and I, we know enough about construction to keep you out of mischief.”
Stan grunted. “Youshouldknow a thing or two about building a house. You used to own a construction company.”
Patrick’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “That’s why this young man needs to work with us. But before he does anything, he’ll need to talk to the foreman.”
“I’ll see him when I’m ready to volunteer.” Zac didn’t have a problem with talking to the foreman, especially when he knew next to nothing about building a home. “Plastering the house is a big job for one person.”
“It’s not too bad,” Patrick said. “The homes have been designed not to waste too many materials. The size of each room pretty much fits full-sized sheets of drywall. Because there aren’t many seams, the plastering isn’t as time-consuming as you might think.”
Stan climbed the stairs inside the tiny home and studied the mezzanine floor. “There’s a lot of work to do up here.”
“Unless someone comes in during the weekend, that’s Monday’s job,” Patrick said. “It would be good to get these two homes on the lot in the next couple of weeks.”
“How long did it take to complete the first two homes?” Zac asked.
“Once the building permits were approved, about eight weeks, then another two weeks once they were moved onto the property.”
“That’s fast.”
“The architecture students who designed the tiny homes helped us with the first two. These are taking a little longer, but we’re getting quicker.”
Stan leaned over the railing of the mezzanine floor. “By the time we start the next two, we’ll be seasoned pros.”
Patrick waved his hand at Stan. “Be careful. If you fall, your old bones won’t survive the drop.”
With a muttered curse, Stan backed away from the edge.
“You can thank me later,” Patrick said loudly.
“I’ll thank you when the cow jumps over the moon.”
Patrick grinned. “I’d settle for a beer after work.”
Zac smiled at the banter between the two men. It was easy to see that they enjoyed each other’s company. “How many people are working on the houses?”
Stan stepped off the last stair. “Between ten and sixteen depending on what we’re doing and who’s available. I’ll show you the other home. They’ve already finished their plastering.”
“And guess who did that?” Patrick asked with a wide smile.
Stan waved away his friend’s question. “You’re too talented for your own good.”
Patrick’s dry chuckle followed them out the door.
“I knew he did the plastering,” Stan whispered. “But I wanted to annoy him.”
“I don’t think he’s annoyed,” Zac whispered back.
Stan muttered something under his breath.
Zac nodded at the second home. “How do you choose who will be living in the houses?”
“You’ll have to ask Pastor John. All I know is that there aren’t enough homes for the number of people looking for somewhere to live. We could build one hundred tiny homes and we’d still have people waiting in line.”
By the time Zac walked around the entire steamboat museum, Stan had introduced him to at least a dozen volunteers. They were all here for the same reason—to give back to the community that had given them so much. And one day, Zac thought, he would join them, too.
Taking a deep breath,Willow focused on relaxing her shoulders. As she exhaled, the air slowly left her lungs. Another deep breath, then a slow, controlled, exhale.
