and it happened. Cute guy in my kitchen; I cannot get involved.
"So, here's the deal. I have some renovations to do before I totally move in. I need to tear up the carpets in the living room, hallway, and bedrooms. That's no biggie. The wood floors will need to be refinished. I want to gut the bathroom, replacing everything but the clawfoot tub. That has to stay. All the woodwork will need to be sanded down, some of it repaired and refinished. There are a few windows that need to be repaired as well, and I think I'm going to need to rehash—rehab—them for energy efficiency, and replace the storms. I'm sure other things will spring up, as they're known to do."
"What's the budget?"
"In my head and on paper, sufficient. In reality, I'll be woefully short, I'm sure, because I know complications will arise."
We discuss the finer points of fees and schedules. Mike—Max—whatever his name is, works at the B&B as a caretaker and does contracting work in his free time. Depending on the business and projects at the B&B, he has varying availability.
"Okay, but what do I call you? Your business card says one thing, but you introduced yourself to me as something else. I'm confused. It doesn't take a lot. Especially not right now."
"Call me Max."
"What's with the Mike thing then?" I'm too damn nosy for my own good. Plus, if I didn't get these details, Therese would have my hide.
"My given name is Michael Andrew Xavier Schultz. Sort of a mouthful for a little kid. My uncle gave me the nickname 'Max' when I was a baby, and it's stuck since. I have to put Michael on the business stuff, since it's my legal name and all."
"Fair enough. Max it is then."
He looks over his shoulder at the living room. "Nice place. Lots of potential."
"I know. I love the style, the architecture. I mean, it's blue, which is great. But most of all, I fell for the kitchen. The previous owner re-did it in the original style and color palate of the house. I think he ran out of money or something, since this was a foreclosure."
"This is fabulous."
"I know, right?"
"Are you okay? Like really okay?"
"I'm allergic to bees and got stung while trying to clean up the side alley. I may have taken too much Benadryl."
"I got that already. Tell you what. Why don't you go sleep it off, and I'll look around the outside. I've got some spray in the truck, and I'll take care of those bees for you. I'll call you tomorrow with my thoughts."
"That sounds like the best idea I've heard all day."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
June brings with it an unseasonably warm streak. Which, when I lived in my apartment, was no big deal. I'd just crank the air conditioning and not worry about it. I'm in my house now. Sort of. Most of my furniture is still in storage in the detached garage. A few things, the essentials, are in the house. My bed, a couch, a small kitchen table and two chairs. I brought my TV in and put it on a box but I find that I rarely watch it. I don't have time with all the work I'm putting in on the house.
Finals are just about done, so tutoring has slacked off, except for those few students who need to go right until the last minute. That will be done next week. I'll be at the restaurant again over the summer. I wanted to take the time off but I need the money now more than ever. I did work with my boss to get a schedule that will allow me as much time to work with Max on the house as possible. I'll work a few lunch shifts, Friday night and a Saturday double. That leaves Max and me all day Sunday, as well as the weeknights he's available. I don't miss the coincidence that we'll be working on Sundays, just like I used to with my dad.
Our first project had been to pull up the god-awful carpets and refinish the hardwood floors. We started that Memorial Day weekend, after the swelling in my crotch subsided. My bedroom was the first room we tackled, just to make it livable for me. There are no decorations or fancy things in it yet. My clothes are in the closet (or in