The builder had made great progress. There were actual walls now.
“We’ve had a few shit weather days,” Ben said. “On the whole, we’re keeping up with the schedule.”
Noah walked through what would one day be his front door. Finally, he would have somewhere to call his own that he’d created. Well, with a little help. He wondered if Carmine would ever visit. It would be hideous to think not.
He forced it out of his mind as they toured each room. Noah inspected everything. His eyes kept returning to the view. He could see himself waking in the morning and making coffee whilst taking in all the changes throughout the year. Being surrounded by tranquillity would be everything he’d ever craved.
“I can’t wait to move in,” he said. “Will I get in for Christmas?”
“Depends how long the interiors take,” Ben replied. “Have you found a designer?”
Noah shook his head. With everything that had been going on, it had fallen to the bottom of his list.
“I’ll sort it next week. Don’t suppose you have any recommendations?”
“Sorry. Not my thing.”
“I’ll ask around,” Noah replied.
His instant reaction was to contact Carmine. Although it was an excuse. A pointless one at that. If Carmine wanted to talk to him, he would’ve called by now.
“Show me where the deck is going to be.”
He followed Ben to the other side of the building. He’d been proud of his suggestion to have a covered area to sit out on damp summer nights.
“It’s raised,” Ben explained. “Underneath you can keep chairs, table and any other garden stuff you find.”
Noah walked out.
“Careful,” Ben said. “We haven’t put the guardrails up yet.”
“Don’t worry,” Noah replied. “I just need to get a feel of it.”
He stood and closed his eyes. The birds were twittering in the trees. He would get the comfiest furniture and spend hours listening to them.
Once he’d satisfied himself, he joined Ben at the door. His eyes were instantly drawn to a figure by the gates.
Could it be?
“I’ll be in touch,” he said to Ben, shaking his hand.
His heart was racing as he walked up the drive. There stood Carmine. He looked tired and nervous.
“What are you doing here?” Noah asked.
“A little bird told me you were doing an inspection. So I borrowed Samantha’s car. Don’t worry, she knows. I’m not suicidal.”
He gestured to a Fiat 500 parked on the roadside.
“Which little bird?”
“Tito.”
For someone who professed that he only cared about number one, Tito was one of the kindest people Noah had ever met. It wouldn’t do to let him know. Otherwise he’d be crowing for weeks to come.
“I’ll have to pass the ball to him this weekend for that.”
“How is the place coming on?”
