It Happens Every Spring by Gary Chapman & Catherine Palmer

Author:Gary Chapman & Catherine Palmer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: book
ISBN: 9781414328782
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
Published: 2011-03-23T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

Patsy had just finished painting blonde highlights on one of her regulars when the pounding began. Alarmed, she glanced across the salon at the tea area. Sure enough, the entire wall was shuddering, the pictures of cottages and flower gardens were sliding cockeyed, and Patsy’s customers clenched their cups as they stared openmouthed at the crack slowly running down the corner of the room near the dessert counter.

“What now?” Patsy muttered.

Ever since Easter, she had allowed pleasant thoughts of Pete Roberts to infiltrate her mind. At Aunt Mamie’s Good Food, he had been polite. Funny. Even gentlemanly—insisting on paying for Patsy’s meal and then opening her car door for her. She decided she had misjudged the man, and he really was just a good ol’ boy trying to get along the best he knew how. He meant well, and the occasional chain-saw and weed-whacker incidents could be forgiven.

Now this.

She led her customer to a dryer to set the highlights. Then she signaled the other stylists that she was going next door. These days, it had become almost a routine. The noise would begin, everyone in the salon would jump half out of their skins, and then Patsy would head over to Rods-n-Ends to give Pete Roberts a piece of her mind. By the time she got back to work, things usually had quieted down. Until the next incident.

As she hurried along the sidewalk, Patsy noted the nearly completed flower boxes that Pete had brought over the other day. At the time, she had been delighted. He told her he was going to line them with a special black fabric that would keep the dirt in but let the water drain out. Then he planned to fill them with his specially blended soil mixture. And finally, he would plant the flowers. He had asked Patsy if she would like to accompany him to a couple of nurseries the following Sunday afternoon, and she said she would enjoy an outing like that.

Not anymore. She rolled up her sleeves, pushed open the tackle shop’s door, and stared at a pile of lumber on the floor. Wearing a pair of faded overalls, Pete stood high on a ladder as he attempted to set a stud in place against the wall. He had a mouthful of long screws. Hammers and drills hung from loops on his tool belt, and sweat ran down his temples into his beard.

“Pete Roberts!” Patsy called to him. “What on earth are you up to now?”

Pete glanced at her, then spat the screws into his hand. “Oh, hey, Patsy. I’m building you and me a soundproof wall. I got the instructions from a guy at the home-improvement warehouse over in Osage Beach. He said once this wall is up, you won’t hardly hear a thing coming from my side.”

She didn’t know whether to be angry or grateful. “Are you aware that my drywall is cracking?” she asked. “Right in the corner.”

“No kidding? I hoped I could get this frame up without having to touch your wall.

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