LITMIR.BIZ

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saw him leave the money on the table and rolled her eyes.

      They walked back to her house in companionable silence.

      He glanced over at her. She could teach anywhere. Why would she choose to live in a big smelly city like Los Angeles? Maybe a guy kept her there. He didn’t like the thought.

      “So you teach English. Fond of the classics?” He liked her hair. So many different shades of brown.

      She shrugged. “I’m fond of all kinds of books.”

      He had been, too, once. He had devoured books, losing himself for hours in them. Since the accident he had to struggle to read, and the frustration ruined the pleasure.

      When they got to her place Tony unloaded the rest of her order and carried a ladder and bag of small hand tools upstairs. The banister was loose and needed bracing.

      He found Julie leaning against a piece of covered furniture, holding her how-to book and frowning.

      “You need me to stay?” He glanced over at the book she studied. Doing plaster work took some skill. Even with everything he’d told her he was skeptical that she could manage alone.

      “Nope.” She glanced up from the page she studied and smiled. “Remember? I’m going to do it myself.”

      He wondered why she was so stubborn about not having help. He’d be willing to take time off from working on his own house. He didn’t say anything. From the set of her shoulders and the jut of her chin it was obvious she was intent on tackling the job herself.

      He’d give her the rest of the day to see how hard the job was, then come back and see if she’d changed her mind about his help.

      He reached into the bag and pulled out the goggles and dust mask he had purchased and added to her order.

      “Come over here.” Tony motioned to her.

      When she hesitated, he said, “Just more friendly advice.”

      She shrugged and moved to his side. Her hair smelled like lemons, and he fought the urge to lean closer and inhale.

      He positioned her under the worst of the damage, liking the feel of her warm skin under her cotton shirt.

      Reluctantly he let go of her and pointed to the ceiling. “Always wear these.” He held up the mask and goggles. “They’ll get in your way, but you’ll get used to them. Be sure to chip off all the stained plaster. Otherwise, the stain will bleed through your new paint.”

      “Okay.” She glanced up to the ceiling and back to his face.

      Tony handed over the safety equipment and wanted to reach for her, the urge to kiss her strong.

      He pulled back. Whoa, way too soon for a move like that, he thought. Instead he stepped away and opened the ladder, positioning it under a gaping hole in the ceiling. “Good luck.”

      As he turned to leave, she said, “’Bye, Tony. And thanks.”

      “Anytime. Thanks for lunch.” He gave her a smile before he started down the stairs.

      Julie watched him go, then glanced down at the goggles and mask dangling from her fingers. His concern about her safety touched her.

      She ran a finger over the ridges in the blue mask. The handsome man had some kind of problem with speech comprehension and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She’d noticed how he’d watched her face intently as she spoke, and then there would be a bit of lag time before he replied. She didn’t think he was deaf, but perhaps she was wrong and he was reading lips.

      Curiosity got the better of her and she went out to the upstairs landing and leaned over the rail just as he opened the front door.

      “Tony?” She kept her voice very quiet.

      He turned immediately. “Yes?”

      Well, his hearing was fine. She groped for something to say. “Ah, if you see Cliff, tell him thanks for the delivery.”

      He tipped his hat. “Sure thing. Be careful not to lean on that banister. It’s loose.” He closed the door behind him.

      She knew the railing was loose. She just hadn’t gotten to that chapter in her fix-it book yet.

      She glanced around the upstairs landing. How hard could it be? She had the tools and the how-to book. If she sold the place as a fixer-upper she would get a lot less for it, and she needed the money.

      Her dream was to take time off teaching to write. She had ideas for several children’s books, but she needed the time. Teaching seemed to drain away her creativity.

      She’d sublet her apartment at the beach for the summer and planned to spend her vacation repairing plaster and painting. Then she’d put the house up for sale and go back to Los Angeles in time to start teaching. When the house sold, she’d take a leave of absence to write.

      Julie walked back into the bedroom. She’d checked recent sale prices of Victorians in Ferndale. She figured she could take next year, maybe even the next two, off if she moved away from the beach and into a cheaper apartment.

      There were a few pieces of her grandmother’s furniture she’d like to keep, but the rest she could offer with the house. She made a mental note to talk to the people who ran the Foggy Bottom Antiques Store and Cream City Antiques. They might be willing to take some of it on consignment.

      Her mind wandered back to Tony. Why had she agreed to dinner tomorrow night? She didn’t plan to get involved. She’d ended her on-again-off-again relationship with Alan before she left L.A. He had indicated he wanted to get more serious, and she wasn’t interested in a commitment.

      Julie rummaged through the bag from the hardware store and laid out the tools recommended in the book. In L.A. she wouldn’t think of going out with someone she didn’t know. But here in Ferndale nobody was really a stranger.

      She turned her attention back to work and did a quick scan of the section on repairing plaster. She climbed the ladder to get to the damaged wall, then donned the mask and goggles. Within minutes of chipping away at the plaster dust covered her hair and sifted into her bra.

      She sneezed and a cloud of fine white powder drifted down.

      Why would anyone choose to do this kind of work? She thought of Tony as she wiped at her face with her sleeve, then climbed back down the ladder to tuck a rag in the waistband of her jeans.

      She flipped on the portable compact disk player and with Jimmy Buffett wailing about cheeseburgers in paradise, she went back to work.

      By midafternoon her arms ached. Even though she had worn the goggles, she had to use saline drops to get the dust out of her eyes. But she’d made good progress. All the old plaster was down. Tomorrow she would start patching. Her arms were too sore to start today.

      Julie took a shower and washed the plaster out of her hair. Then she fixed herself a snack and contemplated what she would do with the rest of the afternoon.

      The closets. Bessie had a lifetime of stuff stored on the shelves and in the cupboards. Julie felt like an intruder going through her grandmother’s belongings, but it had to be done.

      The woman had never shared anything personal with Julie, and would probably be horrified that someone was poking through her things, but Julie couldn’t get rid of them without sorting them.

      Reluctantly she trudged back up the stairs and started in the room where she had slept as a teenager.

      She slipped off her shoes and used the chair from the dressing table to reach the shelves in the closet. There were boxes of hats and gloves that must have dated back to the forties. Bessie had worn a hat to church every Sunday.

      Julie wondered if they would be worth anything at a vintage clothing store. She knew of a good one in L.A. she could call, she thought as she piled them in a corner of the room.

      After she finished the closet, she opened the cupboards above the closet.

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