Maybe they’d know someone who could build shelves and a window seat.
On a whim, Bud decided to add built-ins to the guesthouse. Summer wasn’t complaining. She could always use bookshelves, and a window seat was on every reader’s wish list.
Great suggestion. Let me see how friendly they are.
On that happy note, she scurried around the apartment, gathering tea towels, place mats, and a stack of washcloths from the bathroom. A laundry basket piled with crib sheets, spit cloths, and baby blankets sat by the door. A new jug of detergent was next to it.
“I don’t care how spoiled it makes me to wish I had a housekeeper,” she murmured. “Someone like Alice from The Brady Bunch. Part helper, part friend.”
Hoisting the basket onto her hip, she made it heavier by adding the jug of detergent and a baby monitor. The laundry room was a part of the vestibule connecting the guest apartment to the main house. She propped open her door, took thirty-four steps, dropped the basket at her feet and opened the louvered folding doors concealing the washer and dryer.
While stuffing the washer with a heavy-duty load, she heard sounds in the driveway. After pushing all the right buttons and dumping in the liquid soap, she shut the lid, wiped her hands on her pants, and turned to peer out a port window she had to lean up on her tippy toes to see out of.
Lynda was there, laughing and animated. A work truck partially obscured her view so she couldn’t see who else was out there.
Grabbing the baby monitor, she hooked it to her waistband and marched outside to check things out. Laughter filled the air. Whoever the new people were, Lynda apparently found them hilarious.
A husky male voice with a friendly laugh was talking. “I swear to you. It happened exactly as I said. One day, all the door pulls were on the right, and then overnight, they were on the left.”
“Custom order?” Lynda gushed in a decidedly giggly way, earning most of Summer’s attention.
The friendly laughter rang out again. “It’s all in the details.”
She stepped around the work truck and was startled to find a rather dishy looking guy in work boots, jeans, and a long-sleeve well-worn Henley. He was older than Summer—she figured maybe thirty-five or thereabouts— and tall, but not NBA tall. He had a head of messy hair, several days of scruff, and a smile she found strangely familiar.
When he saw her, she couldn’t help but notice how he snapped to attention and boldly checked her out from head to toe.
“Hello,” he said in greeting. His delivery was slightly amused and curious. About her.
“Summer,” Lynda greeted her. “Perfect timing. Say hello to the neighbor. Stan. Stan McGee. He’s just bought next door and is going to transform the plain box into a suburban sanctuary.”
“I have a guy,” he said with a wink and a chuckle. “A guy who comes up with clever words and witty sayings. The suburban sanctuary is his doing. Sounds a lot better than handyman special.”
Stan extended his hand. She laughed and accepted his handshake. “It’s a pleasure, Summer.”
Reacting to his manners, she studied his face. There was something about him, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
“Stan,” she murmured politely. “You wouldn’t by any chance hail from New York City, would you?”
Momentary shock flashed on his face before his expression changed to delight. “It’s a great place to visit,” he replied, “but I’m a Connecticut boy. Why? Is it important?”
She lifted a shoulder and blew it off by making a joke. “Nah. It’s just that when you said you had a guy, well, I always imagined the expression was a New York thing.”
He chuckled. “You mean as in, he has a guy for everything?”
How odd. Hadn’t she had this exact or nearly similar conversation with Arnie?
Changing the subject, she tilted her head at the house. “She’s been empty for a while.”
Stan turned and looked at the uninspired box. “Nothing better than a blank slate. We have a bold design to transform the drab cube into a curb appeal dream.”
“We?”
Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, Stan withdrew a business card and handed it to her. “Aloha Designs. Me and my older brother.” He snickered. “He’s a bit of a surly asshole so you may want to steer clear if you see him. A beer gut and the black cloud of a shitty attitude make him easy to spot.”