Whatever.
It was not a big deal.
Sure, I’d written a song for him. I’d recorded it. I’d released an album with that song on it. It and the whole album had been critically acclaimed, sold relatively well and nominated for awards.
So what?
He didn’t know that.
He didn’t know me, the me he asked out or the me I turned out to be.
Now he was going to install my deck, inventory the stuff in my house, blow insulation in my walls, make my furnace work and give me a utility room.
No big deal.
I had bigger things happening in my life.
Deke Whoever-He-Was and the fact he was totally immune to me was not one of them.
I’d learned one thing in my life really well.
How to move on.
My dad was dead and I’d made the decision to move on.
So I was moving on.
* * * * *
Two hours later, I stood in one of the minimal open spaces left in my packed-full garage and watched Deke set a box on top of an alarmingly large stack of boxes he’d shifted aside as we’d gone through the stuff that was there.
Prior to putting in the offer on the house, I’d had a look, but not knowing what was what or where it would go, I obviously didn’t look closely.
Now that I’d lived in the house and we’d gone through things thoroughly, that large stack of boxes was fixtures and fittings I’d nixed.
This was because the stuff chosen for the Jack-and-Jill bathroom was dire. The guest suite bathroom stuff was uninspired. And I had an entirely different vision that was far more dramatic for what I wanted for backsplashes and countertops in the kitchen.
Deke turned to me.
“Didn’t use it. They’ll take it back, ’specially since you’ll be gettin’ more and buyin’ more,” he announced.
I would assuredly be getting more and buying more. The assertion that all that was needed was included with the property because it was housed within the property was not true.
This I knew beforehand as Max had already warned me more materials would be needed prior to me signing the papers not only with him to do the job, but to buy the house (one of the reasons I got the price I wanted on the house).
Just how much more I needed was a surprise, even though Max had called what was needed “significant.”
“You know Mindy?” Deke asked, taking me out of my thoughts.
“The lady that works in Max’s office?” I asked back, for I did know that Mindy since I’d met her when I’d gone in to talk to Max about finishing the job.
“Yeah, part-time and not normal. She’s got another job but Max’s regular woman is out on maternity. Instead of getting a temp who don’t know dick and messes everything up, since Mindy worked there before gettin’ her degree, she’s helpin’ out.”
His sharing this with me was surprising, considering for the last two hours since Max left his conversation was minimal as he studied plans, opened boxes, counted stuff, measured stuff, got a ladder from the garage, brought it in and wandered around upstairs, told me where the materials were meant to be used, this last being the extent of his conversation.
It hit me that this was his way of saying that it wasn’t normal operating procedure at Max’s office, so I could not assume someone would be at my beck and call and thus I’d need to deal.
He was looking out for his employer who was also, obviously with the way I’d noted they interacted, a friend.
This said good things about him.
“You call her, she’s got brochures,” he continued. “You can go in, look at ’em, decide what you want and she’ll do the orders. She also knows the places you can go to look at tile, stone, slabs, whatever. Make your choices, tell her, she’ll get it in. Yeah?”
I nodded my acceptance of this.
“I’ll let Max know he’s gotta deal with these returns,” he stated and jerked his head to the stack of rejections.
“That’d be great,” I replied.
He said nothing to that. He simply grunted, “Furnace.”
Apparently, it was time for him to get to his next order of business.
“Right, yeah. Furnace. Good,” I mumbled. “Nights are getting a bit chilly.”
As mentioned, this was the truth. I was glad Dana’s interior designer had sent a down comforter with all the bedclothes I’d chosen. It kept me cozy. But I was still thinking about hitting the local mall Lauren had told me about to get an electric blanket. It had to drop twenty, thirty degrees at night and I was feeling that.
Deke again had no comment, just moved my way.
“Do you want me to make a pot of coffee for you?” I indicated the mini-fridge I was standing in front of, on top of which was a small, four-cup Mr. Coffee. “I also have bottled water in the fridge,” I went on to share. “Yogurt, fruit, not much else. You’re welcome to any of it.”
“Need caffeine, take a break, go into town, get it from Shambles,” he muttered as he moved by me, through the door and into the house.
He didn’t hold the door for me and so it closed behind him.
I stood where I was, looking at the closed door, wondering if perhaps it had been a good thing he’d stood me up seven years ago.
He wasn’t full of conversation. He was brusque when he actually did say something. And he was kind of rude.
However, he was still the man who’d rocked me, closed off in a way I wanted to put in the effort to open him, and I liked the way he moved. His hair was a lot longer so now he didn’t wear it in a ponytail but an unkempt man-bun at the back of his head. And his cheeks and jaw weren’t covered in stubble but a full beard.