His handshake was firm but not aggressive, his palm warm and dry against hers. Caroline was startled by the small jolt of awareness that traveled up her arm at the contact, and even more startled still by her reluctance to release his hand. She withdrew perhaps a beat too quickly, compensating with a brisk nod.
"Are you expected?" she asked, her tone slightly cooler than intended. "Ellen is resting."
Finn smiled - a genuine expression that transformed his serious face and crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Your aunt texted about a leak in the fitting room." He held up his phone as evidence. "I try to catch these things before they become real problems."
“Ah” Caroline replied, her composure slipping back into place. "Yes, I noticed the water damage to the wallpaper during my inventory assessment this morning."
Finn's eyes - a striking hazel that shifted between green and gold in the shop's natural light - held hers for a moment too long. "Inventory assessment, huh? Sounds serious."
There was something in his tone - not quite mockery, but a kind of gentle amusement - that made Caroline feel as though she'd revealed more than intended. She folded her arms across her chest, then immediately unfolded them when she recognized the defensive posture.
"Ellen asked me to help organize some aspects of the business while she's..." Caroline hesitated, unsure how much this handyman knew about her aunt's condition.
"While she's fighting like hell to beat something that would flatten most people,” Finn supplied, his directness somehow refreshing rather than uncomfortable. "Yeah, she mentioned you'd be taking care of things for a bit. Didn't realize that included an inventory count though."
Before Caroline could formulate a response that neither confirmed nor denied the extent of her involvement, Finn moved past her with the easy confidence of someone intimately familiar with the space. He headed directly toward the fitting area, his tool belt jingling softly with each step. The scents of sawdust, salt air, and something indefinably masculine - not cologne but perhaps shaving soap - lingered in his wake.
Caroline found herself following him, drawn by some impulse beyond professional obligation. "The damage is most visible on the east wall," she heard herself saying. "Though I'm more concerned about potential structural issues behind it."
Finn glanced back at her, one eyebrow raised in mild surprise at her assessment. He stopped at the fitting area and knelt to examine the baseboards, running his fingers along the seam where wood met wall.
"The problem's likely behind this section. Old building like this, the plumbing’s been updated piecemeal over decades. Creates weak points.” He pulled a small flashlight from his tool belt and shone it into a nearly invisible gap where the baseboard had pulled away slightly from the wall. His movements wereeasy and efficient, his focus complete. Caroline found herself watching his hands - strong, capable hands with blunt-cut nails and a faint dusting of the same dark hair that showed at his open collar. "Yep," he confirmed after a moment. "Supply line to the upstairs bathroom is seeping. Not a full leak yet, but it'll get there if we don't address it." He glanced up at Caroline. "Mind if I pull this section of baseboard? I'll need to get behind the wall."
"Whatever you need to do," she said, stepping back to give him space.
Finn produced a small pry bar from his belt and carefully removed the section of baseboard, revealing the inner wall and the copper pipe running through it. A slow drip was evident at a joint, water beading and occasionally dropping onto the wooden subfloor.
"Easy fix," he said, more to himself than to Caroline. "Just need to sweat in a new joint." He looked up at her. "This'll take maybe ten minutes tops. But you don't have to stay and supervise."
"I don't mind," Caroline replied, surprising herself. She had inventory to finish, emails to send, projections to update - yet here she stood, watching a maintenance man prepare to fix a leaky pipe. "I'm curious about the building's condition. For my assessment."
Finn's eyes met hers again, and something in his expression suggested he didn't entirely believe this explanation but was willing to accept it. "Fair enough. Ellen mentioned you work in finance. Restructuring, or something?"
Caroline nodded, leaning against the doorframe as Finn opened a small toolbox he'd brought with him. "That's right. I help businesses transition during challenging periods."
"Transition," Finn repeated, his mouth quirking into a half-smile as he selected a propane torch and copper fittings from hisbox. "That's a nice way of putting it. In Nantucket we’d probably call it something else."
"And what would that be?" Caroline asked, genuinely curious.
Finn looked up at her, his expression direct but not unkind. "Depends on the outcome, I guess. Here, sometimes transition means evolution. More often it means extinction." He turned his attention back to the pipe, his hands moving with easy precision as he cleaned the copper with a wire brush. "Which one are you here for?"
The blunt question caught Caroline off-guard. Most people she encountered professionally avoided such direct confrontation, preferring euphemisms and circumlocution. "I'm here to help Ellen evaluate options," she replied carefully. "To make sure whatever decisions she makes are informed by clear data."
He nodded, accepting this answer as he applied flux to the pipe joint. "Ellen's pretty good at making decisions. Has been running this place for forty years without a spreadsheet in sight."
There was no malice in his tone, but Caroline felt a subtle defense of territory in his words. "Different approaches work for different situations," she said diplomatically. "When health factors come into play, sometimes more … structure is helpful."
Finn lit his torch, the blue flame casting strange shadows across his face as he carefully heated the copper joint. The small space filled with the acrid smell of burning flux and metal, not unpleasant but distinctly industrial among the silk and satin of the bridal shop. Caroline watched, fascinated despite herself by the confidence of his movements, the complete focus he brought to this simple repair.
"Hand me that towel?" he asked, gesturing to a shop rag beside his toolbox.
Caroline passed it to him, their fingers again brushing briefly in the exchange. That same jolt of awareness traveled through her, more pronounced this time.
How long had it been since she'd experienced this kind of immediate physical response to someone? Years, certainly. Her Chicago life left little room for anything beyond occasional, efficiently scheduled dates that rarely progressed beyond a perfunctory goodnight kiss.
Finn wrapped the towel around the pipe to protect the wall as he completed the solder joint, his forearms flexing with the movement. A thin sheen of perspiration had formed on his brow from the heat of the torch, and Caroline found herself noticing the way a single drop traveled down his temple before he absently wiped it away with his shoulder.
“How long are you staying then?” he asked conversationally.
