Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
“Lucky you.” Finn was back to smiling, but I wasn’t. Luck made it sound like a lark, and maybe it was for Mom, but my truth was a little more complex.
“Perhaps.” I wasn’t going to go digging in my psyche, but couldn’t help adding, “I was in a…funk, but she can be a force of nature when she wants to be. The bookstore is supposed to be something of a reset button for my life.”
“Lots of people think fresh air and mountains are a cure for a funk.” Finn’s tone was cryptic as he opened the door to the building.
“It’s not. I get that. But the allure of a fresh start is undeniable.”
My move to Vermont might not be the cure my mother was hoping I’d get, but I had to admit there was something to the notion of making a new friend like Finn. Not that he was putting himself on offer, but I liked the atmosphere of the farm and the cozy feeling I got from hanging around him.
Finn flipped on the lights. It was a very utilitarian space—scarred concrete floor, tractor-like vehicle along the far wall, and piles of assorted metal and wood items like chicken wire and boards of various sizes. The walls were lined with hanging tools, and several big rolling cabinets were neatly labeled with more tool names. Closer to us, a standing saw loomed, blades gleaming, a sinister reminder that I was ill-equipped to truly help Finn.
“Nice tools.” I wasn’t sure how else to react, other than maybe beg to not be anywhere near that saw when it turned on.
“Thanks.” The laughter dancing in Finn’s eyes alerted me too late to the double entendre of my compliment.
Luckily, I liked him smiling, even if I did feel foolish. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know.” Finn was still grinning as he clapped me on the shoulder, hand big and warm and intensely distracting. “This shop was where my grandfather built stuff too. These days I share space with some farm equipment, but I still have some of his tools.”
“That’s a nice legacy to have. I never really knew either of my grandfathers. Yours was a good guy?” I trailed behind as Finn made his way to a neat pile of lumber of various sizes.
“Yeah, he was. They both were, but Dad’s dad was the best. Loved this land. Taught me everything.” Finn’s tone was so wistful that I ached to touch him, but casual reassurance didn’t come easily to me, so I let him keep speaking even as my hands flexed. “I learned so much from Dad too. Everything I do is for them when it comes right down to it.”
“I get that. I never thought about any career other than law because my dad and I discussed law school in one of our last conversations.” My chest tightened at that memory of being fourteen, at this Greek restaurant he’d loved, telling him all about my freshman-year grades at the same prep school he’d attended, and him saying that if I kept it up, I’d get into NYU, follow in his footsteps.
“I know how that goes. My last conversation with my dad before his accident was about chickens getting in the trees. Just an average conversation. But it lingers.”
Our eyes met, an understanding there, two people who knew the pain of losing a parent much too soon. I never wanted anyone else to have to be in that club, but it was always nice finding someone who truly understood.
But I couldn’t let my brain go too far down that path of missing my dad, even now. “Tell me how I’m supposed to be helping.”
“Well, I was going to measure the boards before you arrived, but I realized I didn’t know how big you wanted it.” Finn pulled out a large tape measure.
“Not huge. Like a smaller display unit. Similar to what you have in the farm store.” I made vague gestures for height and width with my hands.
“Very precise, Harrison.”
“Sorry—”
“I’m teasing.”
And he was. I saw that now, the way his lips turned up, the way his forehead crinkled, like his face was right on the verge of an all-out grin.
“Oh.” Oh. I liked his teasing far, far too much. Felt way too good, bantering with another person after so long with my own company. I meant what I’d told Mom—I was a terrible bet for a relationship. However, maybe a little flirting was harmless enough. I’d never really been one for casual, but perhaps it was time to try.
“You can help me measure.”
Finn put me to work holding the tape measure while he made precise pencil lines on various pieces of wood. He’d rolled up his sleeves, and I kept getting distracted by his magnificent forearms. Big, built guys were not my usual flavor at all, but Finn was like a loaded burger after years of poached fish, a craving I couldn’t seem to shut off.