Building Home by Dee Ernst

Author:Dee Ernst [Ernst, Dee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780998506876
Publisher: 235 Alexander Street
Published: 2018-07-30T04:00:00+00:00

Needless to say, I completely blew off all Friday night activities and soaked in a tub for almost an hour before falling asleep on the couch, my head still wrapped in a towel, by eight thirty.

Terri was nice enough to help me to bed when she came in from the pier.

When I woke up, muscles I never knew I had were screaming at me, asking what the hell was I doing to them after fifty years of devoted service, and begging, please, don’t ever do it again.

“I swear, all I did was stand and spackle,” I muttered to Terri as I washed down Aleve with very sweet coffee.

“And when was the last time you did that?” she asked, arching her eyebrows over the rim of her mug.

“Never,” I muttered. “Just you wait till you spend your vacation over there. I’m betting you’ll be hurting. God, when did we get old?”

“This has nothing to do with age,” she said with conviction. “It has everything to do with your body being completely not used to manual labor. If you’d been alive two hundred years ago and spent all your days hauling wood and washing clothes in a river, you wouldn’t feel a twinge.”

“If I’d been alive two hundred years ago,” I muttered, “I know I would have been one of those people the settlers would have happily traded to the Indians. Hauling wood my ass.”

She burst out laughing. “I have to breakfast. Enjoy your day.”

“I will. And tell all the ladies I said hello, and one of these Saturdays I’m going to join you.”

She trotted out, and I finished my cereal, drank more coffee, and waited until the Aleve started to work, then got dressed and ready to meet Mike.

He picked me up in a two-seater, a tiny convertible sports car that looked like it belonged in a 1960s spy movie. I stood at the curb and stared. I never would have imagined him with a car quite like this.

He waved me in. “Don’t look shocked. I’m a man of many facets.”

Obviously. “What kind of car is this?” I asked as I buckled myself in.

“Austin-Healey Sprite,” he said. “My baby.”

“I can’t help but notice there’s no back seat or trunk space. If we want to buy something, there’s no way to get it home.”

He grinned. “Exactly.”

I had to hold my hat on my head the whole drive up, but it was worth it to feel the breeze on my face. Driving in a top-down convertible wasn’t very conducive to conversation. After a few attempts of shouting over the road noise, I just sighed happily and looked at the scenery. We arrived in Onancock just before noon, and Mike parked on a side street.

“Eat then walk?” He asked.

I nodded. “Mike, if you spend any time with me at all, you’ll know that if there’s a choice between eating and anything else, eating comes first.”

He took me to a building right on the water that had been a general store, and I ate crab

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