by Lea Tassie
***
I soon learned that renovating required endless decisions. There seemed to be thousands of paint colors to choose from in the hardware store. And should we use oil-based or water-based? Should we put in new double-glazed windows or leave that for later? What kind of carpet? What color? What type of baseboard? Should the oak flooring in the hall be replaced? Or sanded and refinished? Ben spent every lunchtime studying his cost estimates and cursing contractors and inflation.
"Come on, Ben, it's not as if we can't afford it." We were barely halfway through the nice little chunk of money Ben had inherited from his father two years before.
"It's the principle of the thing!" He caught my expression and smiled sheepishly. "Well, these estimates were accurate three months ago." He shook his head. "Just the same, if prices keep going up, we really will be broke by the time we're through the reno."
I left him to his favorite hobby and made coffee.
As if the decorating decisions weren't enough, I also had to decide what to feed four people — five when Cal was there — and three cats. Three times a day. I was now well acquainted with the clerks at the hardware store and lumber yard. If I didn't appear at least once a day, they said they missed me. I'd even learned to drive bouncing Blue Betsy with some skill, though little enjoyment.
By the time two weeks had passed, the north side of the house was finished, right down to the books being back on the bookshelves in my den. Clyde had claimed my big chair for sun-filled afternoon naps. Jeremy had discovered the rose bush by the veranda and frequently came trotting in with a yellow rose petal in his mouth for Ginna. Ben and I moved back downstairs to the master bedroom. George paced around the house, sniffing each new change and, with due ceremony, was dubbed Royal Building Inspector.
Ben and Tom were moving living and dining room furniture to the veranda and covering it with a tarp when there was a knock at the back door. It was the plumber I'd been nagging for days by phone.
"Mr. Jeffs, I'm delighted to see you!"
He looked surprised at the warmth of my reception. "Guess you must be in a hurry to get that bathroom done."
Since we'd been waiting for him for two weeks I doubted 'hurry' was a regular part of his vocabulary, but at least he knew what it meant. I didn't tell him Ben and I had been so eager to move back to our downstairs bedroom that we'd forgotten the main floor bathroom was out of commission and were developing thigh muscles and great lung capacity tramping up and down the stairs twenty times a day.
Next morning Mr. Jeffs finished installing the sink and new vanity and was wrestling with the toilet. When I went to the door to offer him coffee, he was frowning. "There's no water coming into the tank, Missus."
Ginna clattered downstairs. "Holly, I can't flush the toilet upstairs. There's no water."
I stuck my head into the living room, where Ben was stripping wallpaper. "I think the well is dry."
He came back from outside looking gloomy. "Not dry exactly, but the level is below the intake pipe."
"Now what'll we do?"
"Phone Cal and see if he has any answers."
As I reached for it, the phone rang. "Hi, Holly! We've got two weeks off and we're coming to help with the reno!" It was Gareth, Ben's son. Ingrate that I was, I could only think that now I'd be cooking for six people, three cats and a corgi that never stopped eating.
"Why don't you wait a couple of days?" I asked. "Our well ran dry this morning."
"Too late now," he said, cheerful as ever, "we just got off the ferry. We'll be there in twenty minutes."
I told him to use the bathroom in the terminal before they left, and phoned Cal Peterson.
"Not surprised," he said. "Been no rain the last three weeks. Gotta go easy on water in the summer."
"But Ben has to water the garden!"
"With that well, you can either water the garden or flush the toilets. Take your pick."
"I'll remember that for next year, but right now I've got a problem. There'll be six of us in the house for the next week or two."
"No big deal. Joe Dumont down at Ellis Bay has a water tanker. He'll bring up a load and fill the well."
Mr. Dumont allowed as how he could fill the well by midafternoon, but recommended we ration water for a while. I went out to the veranda and edged my way through the furniture to seek comfort in the sea view. It didn't help. All I could think of was the Ancient Mariner's "water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink." Not a drop to flush with either.
Mr. Jeffs found me brooding. "Can't do much until there's water, Missus. I'll come back in a day or so."
I didn't like the sound of 'or so.' "Could you have a look at the laundry tubs? They're about a thousand years old and I'd like some new ones."
My ploy worked. Mr. Jeffs began removing the old laundry tubs and telling me about some second-hand 'like new' tubs he might be able to get for me. By three Mr. Dumont's truck had filled the well with water and Ben had filled Mr. Dumont's pocket with cash. As I expected, Ben went in to fuss with his budget after this unexpected cash outlay. Mr. Jeffs tested the downstairs toilet and pronounced it fit to use.
I put signs on both bathroom doors. 'If it's brown, flush it down, if it's yellow, let it mellow.' I could take laundry into the laundromat in Mora Bay and while the sheets were spinning, make my regular trips to the hardware, lumber store and grocery. I began making a list for next day.
"Don't worry, Holly, we'll make out fine. Just like camping." Sue had wandered into the kitchen, Beanbag at her heels. Clyde and Jeremy followed at a safe distance, fascinated by a dog who was afraid of them. "We can go in the pool instead of having showers."
"And I can use paper plates. I'd suggest everyone drink beer instead of water but I don't want any of you falling off ladders."
"Did somebody say 'beer'?" Tom thumped in wearing swim trunks. "I'm about ready for a dip in the pool."
George followed me into the bedroom and lectured me while I changed into my shorts.
"What do you want, sweetie? I know your entire kingdom is upside down, your routine is a shambles and you're repelling invaders, but your faithful slaves still belong to you."
He expressed his opinion by throwing up a hairball on the new bedroom carpet.
