He must have sensed my shift in mood, because he glanced over and smiled. “It’s nice not having to put on an act around you,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “I don’t feel like I have to be someone I’m not.”
His words mirrored exactly what I had been feeling. Maybe this was the start of something more than just asking for help. Maybe this was the beginning of a real friendship.
We continued walking, and I told him about the oven that still needed to be replaced, the half-done kitchen, and the other repairs that were piling up. Richard listened intently, asking questions here and there but mostly just letting me talk. It felt nice to share the load, even if just for a little while.
When we arrived at the ice cream shop, I glanced over at Richard, who was leaning on the counter, waiting for our cones. Instead of flashing one of his typical playful grins, he offered a small, genuine smile. It wasn’t the look of a man trying to impress or conquer. No, there was no game in his eyes, no mask. He was simply Richard, looking at me like I was someone worth knowing—not as a prize, not as someone to win over. Just Joyce.
And that, I thought, was enough.
“I’m happy to help, Joyce.”
“Thank you.”
Chapter 25
Anxiety tightened my chest. Eight days. That was all we had left to get this place in shape before Anya’s deadline. Eight days to fix leaky pipes, deal with the water heater, and caulk or seal bathrooms and windows. The electrician was scheduled to come in the next day to deal with the stove. It amazed me that I had spent so much on the upgrades, and yet there was more to do. Just like life, reconfiguring the layout doesn’t fix everything. Sometimes you must tackle other issues along the way, especially when you’re under scrutiny.
The house was my life, basically.
I glanced around as the ladies of the Chapter Chatters, along with, Liz, Wardell, and Gabriella, sat around the living room on my side of the house. Even Valerie had come. “For support,” she said. “But nobody takes any pictures of me, understood?”
We all agreed.
This was the planning meeting. I’d called it so in the text message group I’d formed. It was a hot Thursday evening, 6:30 p.m. I’d turned up the air-conditioning so my guests would be comfortable. I picked up some cookies from the grocer as a form of thanks.
The only person missing was Richard, but he’d texted me that he was running a few minutes behind, so I wasn’t worried.
There was a strange mix of anticipation and uncertainty in the air. I could see it in their faces. This wasn’t going to be a quick fix, and we all knew it. Yet they’d all shown up for me. Even Wardell, though I suspect Christine had drug him by his ear.
“Thank you all for coming,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “We’ve only got eight days—really six, if you take away the time for the electrician—to get everything done. APS will be back to inspect everything, and if we don’t meet their requirements… Well, let’s just say I don’t want to find out what happens if we don’t. We’re going to handle everything on her list, major and minor. I want her to know that I’m okay. And I am, so long as I have you all with me.”
There were nods and murmurs of understanding. Minus Wardell, of course. The frown on his face persisted, even as he availed himself of another cookie.
Just then, the door creaked open, and Richard stepped in, slightly out of breath but smiling. The sight of him brought ease to my body. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been looking forward to him showing up until he’d entered the living room.
“Hey there,” he said, walking straight toward me and pulling me into a brief but warm hug. I hadn’t expected the hug, either, but I found myself leaning in to it just enough to feel the comfort in his arms. “Sorry I’m late.” He turned to the rest of the group, offering a smile and a wave. “Hello, everyone. Name’s Richard.”
“Who doesn’t know you? Your business has been donating to the library’s programs for years,” Christine said.
“Glad to help. What’d I miss?”
“The cookies,” Wardell said as he swiped the last one out of the box.
Richard chuckled as he de-escalated Wardell’s jab. “No worries. Don’t need ’em anyway.”
“What we do need is a plan,” Christine said. “And I think my husband is the perfect person to help us with that. Right, Wardell?”
“Why does it always feel like I end up leadin’ these things?” he muttered under his breath.
Christine shot him a sharp look, her lips pressing together in that way that told him he better straighten up fast. “Because you’re good at it, Wardell. And because you love helping people, whether you admit it or not,” she said, her voice firm but affectionate. She gave his arm a light nudge. “So, go ahead and show these fine folks why I married you in the first place.”
Wardell grumbled under his breath again, but this time there was less resistance in his tone. He shifted in his seat, looking around at everyone, his frown softening slightly under the weight of Christine’s expectations.
I sighed, knowing I had to address him, too. I tried to remember exactly what went wrong with our first meeting. “Wardell, I know you and I didn’t have the best initial meeting. But we need you. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover. And you’ve got the most experience when it comes to construction.”
Wardell’s eyes flickered over to me, a hint of that old stubbornness still there, but I could see him digesting my words. His lips loosened when I mentioned his expertise. The compliment worked like a charm. He reminded me of a lady at the church where I grew up who sang like a lark. She wanted to sing, but she would always make the congregation beg for it. She sat in her seat, shaking herhead for at least a minute while people yelled out, “Let the Lord use you,” or “He will give you strength.”
And then she got up there and belted it out like she’d been practicing at home for weeks.
