Chapter Nine

It was the first time Jason had been to the house during daylight hours. The Cape Cod style boasted lots of molding around the windows and more wood than stone accents. The small porch was large enough for one chair, or maybe a two-person swing, if it angled toward the door, but it didn’t have either. Someone had given the entry a fresh coat of paint in the not too distant past. Jason wondered if that was something Rachel did after she moved in, or if the sellers had put in some effort. He could see where there was more work to be done once winter lost its grip on the East Coast.

He rapped on the door twice. Like last time, Owen answered with food in his hand. This time it was a bagel. “Hey.”

Owen stepped aside.

“Hey,” Jason mimicked back.

“Rachel?” How the kid could get that loud with a mouth full of food was quite a talent. “Jason is here.”

She replied from upstairs. “Coming.”

Owen nodded. “Come on in.”

Jason entered the warm space and smiled at the Christmas tree, which hadn’t changed since he left on Wednesday.

Owen waved his bagel in the air. “Have you eaten?”

“I’m good.”

The sound of Rachel as she double-timed down the stairs had him turning around.

Her hair was wet from the shower, her face void of makeup. Her cheeks were flushed and her skin was damp. Jason had a strong urge to lean in and sniff. “Good morning,” he greeted her.

“You’re very prompt.”

“All my flights arrive on time.”

Those dusty pink lips pulled into a grin.

“You’re a pilot?” Owen asked.

“I know how to fly a plane.”

Owen’s eyes grew wide. “That’s epic. Did you know Rachel works for some highfalutin private jet company?”

“She did mention it.” Jason caught Rachel’s tense posture and lack of adding anything to the conversation. “So are you ready to string some more lights?”

“Would you like some coffee first?” Rachel asked.

“After, when I’m wet and cold.”

Rachel looked over his shoulder and out the window. “It’s raining?”

“Drizzling.”

“You don’t have to do this today.”

Jason opened the door. “This isn’t California. If we waited for good weather, we wouldn’t get anything done here.”

“Okay. Let me know if you need anything.”

Owen grabbed his coat and walked out. Jason followed.

Her boss. No, the owner of the highfalutin private jet company was on her roof, in the rain, for the second time in a week. She’d bet money there weren’t any other employees of Fairchild Charters who could say that. She and Jason might not be dating, but there certainly was something going on here she didn’t know how to navigate.

She’d sat down to put on makeup before he arrived and stopped herself. It shouldn’t matter how smooth her skin looked or how expressive her eyes were if he was just being neighborly. He didn’t seem to notice, and he hadn’t run away. Not that she applied her cosmetics with a heavy hand . . . well, she had that week due to the black eye, but as a norm, she didn’t.

From the window, she watched Owen and Jason set up the ladder as they had earlier in the week. Jason went up, and this time she heard footsteps on her roof. She cringed and really hoped her boss knew what he was doing and wasn’t going to be part of her landscape with a wrong turn.

Instead of standing by the window and stressing herself out, she went through the kitchen to her mudroom and out into the garage to gather the tools she needed for her indoor activity.

Removing the kitchen door left a frame that needed to come out. She’d become well acquainted with chisels and hand sanders. Wood putty did a great job of hiding her mistakes before she added a new layer of paint to cover it all up. After setting up her workspace, she took her hammer and chisel and went to work.

There was a harmony in the pounding going on outside as she went at it inside. Much as this was work, it also calmed her soul. She liked the diversity of the tasks she’d managed to accomplish since moving to Connecticut. There was a first time for everything, and Rachel had experienced many do-it-yourself ones.

It quickly became apparent that the simple doorway, which should have taken an hour of careful destruction, was going to take much longer. Like other places in the house, the kitchen threshold had no less than a dozen layers of paint. And to make it worse, the semigloss stuff used in the high-moisture room seemed to stick better. Or maybe that was the years of grease built up. She gave up kneeling on the ground and took a chair from the kitchen table to make things easier on her back. She hummed a popular country song while she worked and lost track of time.

A gust of cold air followed Jason and Owen as they came back inside.

“That was quick,” she said, looking up from her perch.

“We’ve been out there an hour and a half.” Owen shook off his coat and hung it by the door.

Jason followed his lead.

Rachel glanced at the clock, then back at what little she’d accomplished. “I’m never gonna get this done before tonight,” she said to herself.

It only took a few steps for Jason to reach her. “What are you doing?”

“Taking away the rest of the door that bit me.”

He assessed her work. “You could just rip the whole thing out and put in new wood.”

“I could. If I owned the right kind of saw to cut it, or had a truck to carry the supplies I’d need from the hardware store.” She glanced up. “And no, that wasn’t a request to use your truck again. What I’m doing works fine. It takes longer, but it’s something I can do without all the aforementioned tools.”

“I told you she likes to do it all herself,” Owen said.

“Hey,” she scolded him. “I didn’t hang the lights.”

“You would have,” Jason said under his breath.

She couldn’t argue that.

Brushing the flaky paint from her palms, she stood. “Ready for that coffee?”

Before Jason opened his mouth, Owen said, “No, but hot chocolate sounds dope.”

“Dope?”

“Yeah, like awesome, only better.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She glanced at Jason. “Coffee?”

He hesitated. “Actually, hot chocolate does sound dope.”

“Right?” Owen asked.

“You’re both incorrigible. Fine, two hot chocolates and one adult coffee coming right up.”

Owen took that as his exit line and turned back to the living room. He plopped on the couch and sank into his cell phone.

Jason followed her into the kitchen.

“Thanks again,” she said over her shoulder as she took milk from her refrigerator and moved to the pantry to find the chocolate stash.

“You’re welcome.”

“I seem to be saying that a lot to you this week.”

“I’m glad I can help.”

Jason was a big presence in the tiny kitchen space. She had to move around him to reach the cupboard with her mugs. She lowered her voice. “So did he give you any gift ideas?”

“As a matter of fact,” he whispered, “there’s this—”

“Hey, why is it so quiet in there?”

“We’re not being quiet,” Rachel said, louder than she intended.

“You’re not making out or anything, are you?”