A Haven on the Bay - Nicole Ellis Page 0,33
head. “No. I forgot to ask her. I need to do that so we can figure out what we’re tossing or keeping.”
“Want to take it outside so we can see it better?” He lifted one end of it to estimate the weight. “It’s heavy, but I think we can manage.”
“Sure.” She grabbed the other side, but before they could move it very far, the second drawer from the bottom slid out.
Taylor reached out to steady the drawer before it could hit the ground. He tried to jockey it back into place, but it wasn’t working.
“Is it caught on something?” Meg knelt on the ground to take a closer look. “Hold on, I think I see it.” He released his grip on the drawer and she stuck her hand into the gaping hole and fumbled around. She tugged on something, then pulled it free of the dresser.
Taylor pushed the drawer back into place. This time, it slid in as perfectly as the day it left the furniture store. It may have been scuffed, but the craftsmanship was solid, and he hoped they wouldn’t have to throw it out. Things like this just weren’t made like they used to be.
Next to him, Meg was using her sleeve to wipe off the front of a small book. “What is it?”
She held it close to her face and squinted at the words on the cover. “It looks like some sort of journal.”
“Huh.” Taylor took off his glove and touched the dark leather, his fingers leaving streaks on the surface. He wiped the dust off on his pants. “It could use some TLC.” The book had to be at least fifty years old.
She eased it open, revealing pages filled with spidery black handwriting. “It’s too dark in here to see. I’ll take it home to check it out in better light.”
She shut the book and placed it in her tote bag. They continued working on that corner of the building, moving a long dresser and two queen bed frames outside for further consideration. After a few hours, they’d finally cleared the entire floor in that section of the barn. Taylor stretched his arm out past deteriorating leather horse tack to pluck a pitchfork from its hook on the wall. A plethora of cobwebs came with it and a spider fled into a crack in the windowsill.
He cleaned the sticky silver strands off the tines and held it up next to him. “Do I look like a proper farmer now?”
She giggled. “You look like the guy in that painting.”
“You mean American Gothic?” He pulled his dust mask off, shaping his face into a more sober expression. “How about this?”
She laughed again. “Okay, I need to get a picture of this.” She ran over to her bag and retrieved her phone, then snapped a photo. She looked at the image and grinned widely. “Perfect.”
“Oh no, you’re not getting off that easily,” a woman’s voice said from the open doorway. “You need to get in there too, Meg.” They both looked up to see Zoe standing in the entrance. She didn’t even try to hide the huge grin on her face. “C’mon,” she demanded. “Hand over the phone and get in the picture. I’m not letting you out of this one.”
Meg grumbled a little before giving Zoe her phone and returning to stand next to Taylor. “For the record, I hate having my picture taken.”
“Hmm.” Zoe peered at the image and frowned. “Something’s not right.” She stepped back through the open barn doors. “Come out here so you can stand in front of the barn, just like the couple in the painting.”
Meg turned to Taylor and he shrugged. “I’m not telling Zoe no. I once told her it wasn’t practical to serve something at a wedding and she insisted it could be done and would turn out amazing.” He sighed, remembering how stubborn she’d been. “She was right.”
Meg stared up at the rafters high overhead. “Fine.” She stomped out of the barn.
They’d both worked with Zoe at the Lodge long enough to know it was easier to go along with what she wanted than to fight it.
When they were in position, Zoe finally took the picture. She examined the result and her face lit up. “I love it. Make sure you send me a copy, because that’s going up on a wall somewhere once we get this place renovated.” She handed the phone back to Meg.
Meg looked at the photo, then showed it to Taylor, who burst into