Hunks, Hammers, and Happily Ever Afters

by Cari Quinn

  She was sitting on the edge of a concrete bench eating her second helping of meatloaf when Marie appeared and sat down next to her. She was carrying a scrapbook and didn’t wait until Sophie swallowed the bite she was chewing before she spoke. “I’m glad you like my meatloaf. Will always said he did.” Her eyes were red, the skin puffy. But she started talking fast, as though slowing down would start the tears again. “I wanted to show you this. It’s important to me that you understand the side of your Grandfather you didn’t see.”

  Gabe came up just then, once again fending off some of the people who were trying to press in on her. She was starting to realize that he was sort of a mother hen to the guests. They all looked to him for direction. It was rare to find a hotel manager that could instill that sort of following with guests—even when a family had been there several days or a week. She was starting to realize why her Grandpa had thought about giving him the business outright.

  She finally swallowed and nodded, looking back at Marie. “Yes, please. I’d love to see what you have. I didn’t see Grandpa all that often after I graduated. I still remember him mostly sitting in his office, doing paperwork.”

  The older woman opened the book and the first photo was a self portrait, Grandpa pointing the camera at the mirror. Behind him, in the reflection, was Marie, kissing his cheek. There were also a good number of the people around the pool, all smiling for the camera. That’s weird. “So all of you come to visit at the same time? Is this like a convention or reunion where you all stay here?”

  Gabe sat down on the other side of her. “No, no. This is our home, as it was Mr. Will’s. He visited other places, but this was his home. This is where he came to be himself . . . where nobody judged him or asked anything of him.”

  Wait. “Excuse me? You all live here?” She pointed around to the circle of people who had crowded around to look at Marie’s book. “All the time, not just a few days? This isn’t a motel?”

  Gabe shrugged. “Yes, it is a motel. But yes, we all live here. This is our home; our community. People come, people go, but the rooms are full. A motel, yes?”

  Her brain went into a tailspin. So much of what she planned for the motel didn’t include month-to-month rentals. “Um . . . okay. That’s a lot to wrap my brain around right now. Can we look at some more pictures for a few minutes?”

  She turned a page. “Here we are biking on the Gulf. We rented a motor home for a whole month and drove all over the state, fishing and being tourists. I’ve lived in Louisiana all my life, but had never been a tourist in my own state. It was great fun.”

  There was a whole series of photos of Grandpa and Marie, looking every inch a couple of lovebirds. Why wouldn’t he have told her? Why keep all the happiness she saw in his beaming face, from her? “I don’t understand why he never told me. I’m not like my parents. I would have loved to meet you with him.”

  Marie gave a sad little smile and a shake of her head. “It just wasn’t his way. He segregated his life so much. Business never intruded here, and here never intruded in his daytime world. I understood that and never tried to take more from him than he was willing to give. I think it’s why he was able to let go of his other life when he came here. Nobody pushed.”

  The tiny elderly woman with the loud voice nodded and tapped her cane on the blue tiles. “This is a safe place, a restful place. He was happy here. We all are.”

  Gabe nodded and pointed across her lap at the scrapbook, where Marie had turned another page. “The pool was where he was happiest. He was the one who started the pool parties, with everyone bringing dishes.”

  Marie laughed. “No, Gabe. He always considered the parties your doing. You suggested it once when old Bobo Lafayette—”

  “God rest his soul,” one of the men added, and everyone nodded.

  “Was feeling sickly.” Marie continued over the murmuring. “His family couldn’t come to see him and you thought it would be nice for everyone to make some food, but in a way that it didn’t hurt his pride.”

  Gabe waved his hand, including the group in the statement. “Pride is important to many people, many of us. He didn’t want charity—as though he couldn’t care for himself. But family takes care of its own. He was fed and he felt proud of his family.”

  The woman she thought she remembered was Mrs. Hernandez reached forward and ruffled his hair, making the crown jingle. “Always you think of others, miho. It is why Mr. Will trusted you to watch over the Starlight.”

  The next hour was spent looking at the last decade of her grandfather’s secret life. Surfing, hiking, motorcycles. Everything was movement, activity and he was smiling in every picture—such a different image of him than Sophie had ever seen. “When he came to Texas, he was always so serious. My family always said I was the only one who could make him laugh. But it was an effort. You seemed to manage it without trying.”

  Marie shrugged. “He was always happy,” Marie said. “It was what attracted me to him.”

  “Not always.” Gabe shook his head. “No, at first, he was sad. It took time to make him feel happy. He had to . . . how did he phrase it? Ah, yes. Alter his perception.”

  His perception? Of what?

  But she didn’t get a chance to ask, because an old man who Sophie seemed to recall was named LeBeaux, started to wheeze rapidly, doubling over and then dropping to his knees. Gabe was immediately on his feet, moving to help the gentleman to a chair to sit. But Sophie nearly beat him. She’d seen a lot of elderly people get overexcited. “Breathe slow, sir. Take your time.” While Gabe helped him find and get the cap off an inhaler in his pocket, she went to the table and poured him a glass of water. The man clutched at the inhaler as Gabe pressed it down. He sucked on it like a straw and then held his breath. Sophie remembered using an inhaler when she would get bronchitis as a child, and he was doing the exact right thing, holding the medicine in his lungs as long as he could.

  Moments later, he started to cough, his frail body heaving with the effort. Gabe patted his back until Sophie offered him the water. Like the inhaler, he grabbed the cup like a lifeline and drained the entire glass. Only then did he get control of himself. He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you both. I shouldn’t have been laughing so much. But I wanted come to meet you and talk about Will. He was a good friend.”

  “I understand,” Sophie said, patting the hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure he wouldn’t have wanted you to overdo, though. Maybe it’s time to call it a night.” It was well past dark, and she really was tired. She looked at Gabe and the rest of the people. “It’s been wonderful. Truly. I know Grandpa would have appreciated all your kind words.”

  Gabe agreed. “If everyone could take your food back with you, we’ll leave the clean-up of the decorations for the morning.”

  “Oh, that would be nice,” Sophie said. “I really would like to spend some time looking at the float.”

  “I must finish the roof in the morning,” he replied. “But you’re welcome to take all the time you want looking at it. It actually moves back into the shed quite easily. And it’s rainproof so even if we get a shower tonight, it’ll be fine.”

  The roof! She’d completely forgotten completely about that. Had it only been a few hours ago that she’d arrived? But now that she was thinking about it, she could hear the flapping of the plastic being held down by the packages of shingles.

  As far as she was concerned, half the gain meant half the pain. She didn’t say it, but she was going to beat him up to the roof in the morning and show that she planned to be a full partner in this business.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Gabe woke with a start. He’d been having a lovely erotic dream about Sophie and lay in a haze under the covers, his body tense, hungry and unwilling to leave the dream so easily. The warm sheets and blanket pressed against his throbbing erection deliciously. He kept his eyes closed, hoping to drift back to the dream where Sophie’s fingers were dug into his shoulders, her cries underneath him urging him to tak
e her over the edge. He wanted that; needed it. Her fragrant hair lay splayed across the pillow and he finally buried his face in it, soaked in the smell as he moved his hips. Slowly at first, and then faster he pressed into her, his breath lowering into harsh pants as he dug his fingers into the sheets.

  A loud, dull thump sounded above him, but distant. Then a second one. That was what had woken him. He remembered now.

  Had someone fallen? Was there a burglar? Like last night, his duties overcame his arousal and his hard cock wilted as he threw off the covers and grabbed the pair of cargo shorts he’d been wearing last night.

  Now a third thump and he was fully awake, his mind running through a dozen scenarios while he felt around on the table next to the bed for his phone. Daylight was just edging the corners of the curtains. It was brazen for a thief, if that’s what it was. Or could Mr. LeBeaux be having another fit?

  His shoes were next. Gabe grabbed a flashlight from next to the door and went outside, swinging the security bar across the opening so the door didn’t lock behind him. Another thump. It sounded like it was coming from higher up than Mr. LeBeaux’s place. Walking out into the parking lot, he looked up to see someone standing on the steep slant of the roof. Dressed in dark jeans and a dark red hooded jacket, the person was easily scrambling across the sheets of underlayment. Another thump and this time, he could see what the noise was. It was the sound of a nail gun into double stacked 2x2s. They were holding the weight of the person on the roof. “Hey!” He shouted as quietly as he could; many of the guests would still be sleeping. “What are you doing?”

  The hooded head turned and Sophie’s face peeked out. She turned with startling agility on the boards and he realized the belt holding up her pants was a tool belt. “Morning, sleepy head,” she called down softly. “Thought I’d get started while it was cool out.”

  “Get down off there! You’re going to hurt yourself.” Why in the world was she on the roof? What was she thinking?

  Sophie laughed, a bright, clear sound in the still morning air. “No, I’m not. I told you—I do this for a living.” She waggled her head. “Well, not just roofing. But hotel maintenance. Roofing is just an occasional part.” Then she squatted on the narrow boards, the toes of her boots hanging in open air, to lean the portable nail gun against the slant of the roof. Then she easily walked the length of the board, not even wearing a harness, much less being tied off, toward the ladder! He held his breath with every step and found himself moving toward the ladder, in case she needed help.

  But she didn’t. Sophie swung herself onto the ladder and climbed down as though she’d done it a thousand times.

  She looked him over up and down and let out a soft chuckle. “A little underdressed for roofing, aren’t you?” She, however, was perfectly dressed. In fact, overdressed. Her lace-up brown work boots had the ends of her pants tucked inside and were well-worn—the former suede leather now slick and shiny over most of the toe. He could see a gray tee shirt under the hoodie. She was going to burn up in the sun later!

  For some reason, it annoyed him. “You woke me up. What do you expect? I thought someone had fallen or there was a burglar.”

  That dropped the smile from her face. “Oh. Sorry. When you said last night you wanted to get the roof done early, I presumed you meant first light. I started coffee in the office. When you weren’t there, I thought I’d get started putting up the rails to walk on. Nice job on the underlayment, by the way. That’s tough to do with only one person.”

  “I . . . thank you. But—” His brain was addled, trying to take it all in and shift his mind from the image of Sophie in her sleek black dress to this new one in work boots and paint splattered jeans. It was not easy.

  She touched his shoulder, her face somewhere between amused and concerned. “I think you need some coffee. I could use some more too. C’mon.” He followed her back to the office. He wasn’t sure where she’d gotten a key, but she’d indeed started coffee in the break room and there was even a box of donuts! Where had she gotten donuts? She didn’t have a car to drive anywhere. “Where did you get donuts at this time of day?”

  She handed him a cup of black and then stirred cream into her cup, and smiled. “At this time of day? Gabe, it’s after six o’clock. I’ve been up for an hour already. The donuts are from a food truck. I saw it parked right on the corner when I first got up on the roof. So I came down and bought a box. I thought it might be nice for people when they got up and moving. They’re really good. Try one.”

  He shook his head and scratched his scalp while he sipped at the coffee. He liked it black and strong and it was perfect. “Do you normally make coffee this strong, Sophia?” Everyone else here seemed to complain about his coffee.

  “Me? God no! I added water to mine. But I could see how much you used last time when I threw away the old filter, so I made it the same. That’s only polite. But I love this brand! It’s the same one I buy. Lots of chicory. Most people don’t like chicory in their coffee. Oh, and by the way, my name is Sophie, not Sophia. That’s my real name.”

  She was bright and bubbly this morning, very different from the reserved Sophie from last night. The coffee was helping, but he was still not quite awake. “I apologize. You look very much like a Sophia, but I will work to remember.” He paused for a moment, trying to change the subject. He didn’t like to make mistakes about a person’s identity. “Where did you find the boards?”

  “No problem. I got them in the storeroom,” she said after a sip of a pale creamy concoction that could barely be considered coffee. “I’m trying to be careful not to split the boards. I wasn’t sure whether this was what you got them for.”

  He nodded. “And trim for the upper windows afterward. I thought some color would look nice from the road.”

  She pursed her lips and then smiled. “That could look really nice. I have a lot of ideas for the place too. Maybe we can sit down sometime soon and figure out what will work best to update the whole place.”

  Gabe wasn’t sure what she was getting at and it made him nervous. “Well, I suppose. But I’ve kept everything in good shape. I don’t know what updates you’re thinking of.”

  Something flipped in her eyes, as though she was testing what his reaction would be, and she let it go. “Nothing much. I really haven’t had a chance to look at much other than my room and the pool. But y’know, tables that have a hole in the center where you can put an umbrella might be more comfortable than the cement benches. They even have kits that are cheap online that someone like you or I, since we can work with tools, could customize.”

  He had thought about buying umbrellas for out there for some time. He found himself nodding. “Not all of our guests visit the pool because there’s not much shade. Mr. Will was always worried about umbrellas because of the winds in the spring. But I told him several times that they could be weighted or have air pockets so they wouldn’t catch the wind so much.”

  Sophie pointed her finger at him, with a form of triumph. “Exactly! Grandpa sometimes sometimes thought the books were more important than guest comfort. But if guests are comfortable, they come back sooner.”

  Gabe did want to honor Mr. Will, but he wanted to make the place his own too. And now it was time for his ideas to be brought to life. “Thank you, Sophie. It is nice to have someone think about the guests like I do.” He put down the coffee cup on the table with a firm hand. “We will definitely sit down and talk. This motel can be a showplace if we work at it. And first on the list is a sturdy roof.”

  He found himself staring at the bottom of her cup as she drained the last of the coffee. She put the cup in the sink and then said, “Let’s do this, partner. Meet you topside.” She smiled at him and he found her good humor was contagious. By the time he got up to his room, he was whistling.

  By the time he got up on the roof, Sophie was already troweling cement. Her strokes were clean and neat and there wasn’t a drop of cement on her gloves or jacket yet, which impressed him. Even seasoned roof
ers could be sloppy with the black tar-like goo. He got closer on the rail below her and could see that the thickness of the cement was consistent from stroke to stroke. Not too thick where it would bleed around the shingles and not too thin where it could leak. “That is beautiful. I’m not sure I could spread cement as well.” She scraped the trowel edge against a scrap of wood in her other hand. It was a foot or so around and had finger holes like a painter’s pallette. Raised edges surrounded a deep bin that rested on her elbow and was filled with cement. “I haven’t seen that tool before. What is it?”

  She leaned down slightly so he could see the tray. “I don’t know that there’s a name for it. I just call it my plate. I made it myself out of a piece of siding and some Tupperware. I hate constantly going back and forth to the cement can or hauling it around with me. I’ve never had help roofing before, so I’ve always had to do stuff for myself. This holds about a half gallon, which isn’t too heavy and lets me keep moving.”

  “Very clever.” This woman was fascinating him with every turn. Beautiful, smart, strong. He didn’t know many women who worked in construction so he had nothing to compare her talent to, except other men. As he slid by her on the roof to the flat area where he could open the shingles and ready the nail gun, he couldn’t help but notice the smooth curve of her hips under the jeans and her slender waist sadly hidden by the shapeless hoodie. This was no man, and he was very glad.

  But strangely, he didn’t care that she was a woman. Right now, he only cared about getting the roof done. So that’s what they did. She didn’t argue at all when he asked her to tie off to a line. In fact, she had her own lanyard, rolled up in one of the leather pockets hanging down from the belt. That made him happy. He was a safe worker. Mr. Will had always insisted.