To the Beach and Back

Chapter 15

I was relieved when a storm came in at five o'clock in the evening.

Between the paddle boarding, biking, and an impromptu happy hour on Holda's pier, I was exhausted, and the rain gave me a good excuse for canceling our mini-golf plans.

Besides.

Tomorrow, I need to start cleaning out Haven, whether I want to or not.

I lean against the sliding glass door, watching dark clouds pass in the sky and listening to rain plummeting the deck furniture as a couple docks their pontoon boat, raincoats covering their heads as they secure the ropes to their pier posts.

The pitter-patter sounds bring back memories of long ago when rainy beach days were a relief. Because then, the pressure was off, there was no driving need to fill our day with activities ... going to the beach, playing mini golf, walking the boardwalk. On rainy days, I didn't feel guilty just lazing around all day, watching movies, reading historical novels, and ordering pizza instead of going out or cooking.

I can't laze tonight, though.

I'd love to nestle on the sofa with a good book like Allyse is, but my mind is whirling from the thousand things that need to be done in Haven now that the mold test came back negative. The cleaning and hauling trash to the dumpsters might take days alone. Then there's the repairs: drywall, cabinets, flooring, and more, all of which will be impossible if I can't hire contractors. I've already placed countless calls to general contractors, plumbers, and electricians from the list Dave gave me, with only half of them returning my messages and the other half booked solid for the next two months. Once general contractor promised to stop by on Sunday ... three days from now ... to give me an estimate but he wouldn't be able to start for weeks, long after I'm supposed to go back to work.

How I'm going to handle this once I'm home, I don't know.

Pizza.

I might not be able to laze, but there's always pizza.

"Do you want—" I start to ask Allyse before noticing she's fallen asleep. Knowing her mutual love for all things Italian, I use a food delivery app on my phone to order a large pizza loaded with veggies before walking quietly to Ryan's kitchen counter that's covered with spreadsheets, notes, and my planner. At least Nick and I have a shared equity loan of $20,000.00 to use for repairs, but I have enough construction experience to know it won't go far. I could spend that in the kitchen alone if I got new cabinets, appliances, and a sink to replace the chipped porcelain one.

But what about the shabby countertop ... should I granite or quartz? Or a less expensive Formica?

And the flooring.

The carpet has to go. Should I replace it with new carpeting? Laminate? Or nicer engineered hardwood that Ryan used for his house here because of the high tolerance to a beach town's moisture and humidity? They're expensive, though. Maybe I could save money by painting the cabinets instead of replacing them. Or do carpet upstairs. What about the appliances, though? I definitely need a new fridge and stainless-steel ones are always in high demand.

I bury my face in my hands and sigh.

God, I do not want to deal with all this. And what's going to happen when I need to go back to work? How am I going to manage this from home?

Allyse shifts in the easy chair she's snoozing in, the hardback book she'd been reading about to fall to the floor. I tiptoe back toward the chair, easing it from her loose grip and placing it on the coffee table, staring down at her.

Home.

What's going to happen once our friendship pact is over and we're both back home? Or the better question is ... what do I want to happen?