“No problem.” He reached for his toolbox. “Can’t leave you putting your foot through the floor on my conscience.”
That shifted something in her expression. Something close enough to make his bear sit up and take notice.
She likes us,his bear said with confidence.
That’s a start,Spencer replied.
“At least let me make coffee,” she said, setting the hammer aside. “I’ve got a camping stove set up in the kitchen.”
Spencer nodded. “Coffee would be good.”
His bear approved of that, too.
Meryl disappeared inside, and Spencer took the chance to inspect the porch more thoroughly. He kneeled near the edge and peered underneath, pulling a flashlight from his pocket. The beam cut through the shadows, showing him exactly what he had expected and hoped not to find. Several support posts were compromised, and the joists were damp and dark where water had gotten in and lingered too long.
“How bad is it?” Meryl asked from the doorway.
“Bad enough,” he said, looking up at her. “But not impossible. The main structure’s still doing its job, as far as I can see. We’ll need to replace about half the support posts and most of the decking.”
She nodded and handed him a steaming mug. “Only half. I figured it would be more.”
That won the smallest smile from him. “There’s your bright side.”
The corner of her mouth twitched.
“Show me the hall first,” he said, taking the coffee. “If we make the way in safer, everything else gets easier.”
“Do you mind?” The hope in her voice was quiet, but it was there.
“Not at all.”
The coffee was strong and black, exactly how he liked it. Spencer took a grateful sip, then followed her inside to look at the hallway floor.
The morning light highlighted every flaw in the worn floorboards. Spencer set his coffee down and kneeled, running his hands over the boards near the threshold where he’d noticed the give yesterday.
“This section here,” he said, pressing down on a board that flexed under his weight. “We need to pull these up and see what’s underneath.”
Meryl kneeled beside him, notebook in hand. “How many do you think need replacing?”
“Won’t know until we look.” Spencer reached for his pry bar. “But I’d guess at least three, maybe four.”
He worked the tool under the edge of the weakest board, applying steady pressure until the nails began to creak and lift. The wood groaned in protest as he pried it up, revealing the space beneath.
“Hand me that flashlight?” he asked, and Meryl passed it to him without hesitation.
The beam illuminated the crawl space below. The joists looked solid enough, but there was evidence of old water damage. Not as bad as he’d feared, though.
“Good news,” he said, looking up at Meryl. “The subfloor structure is sound. We just need to replace these surface boards.”
Something in her expression shifted. Not quite relief, but a little of the strain left her face. “That’s... better than I expected.”
“Pine Cottage was built right,” Spencer said, running his hand along one of the exposed joists. “Solid oak framing, proper joinery. Someone took real care over it.”
He pulled up two more boards, revealing more of the structure beneath, and he could feel Meryl watching him, taking mental notes, asking occasional questions that showed she was thinking ahead.
“If we replace these boards,” she said after a while, “how long before I need to worry about the rest of the floor?”
Spencer considered this as he measured the gap for replacement timber. “The rest looks sound. It all needs refinishing eventually, but not replacing.”
