What’s he doing?
I stay in my Bronco and watch.
The equipment trailer is locked of course, but he pulls a keyring out of his pocket, unlocks it, and hauls out a circular saw, a bucket of screws and a screw gun, a tape measure, and a few other odds and ends.
Curious. I really wouldn’t have thought he even knew what a circular saw is. There’s a pile of scrap lumber just inside the shell of the partially framed house, and he sorts through it for a selection of pieces. Once he has what he wants, he brings it over to his work area.
Consults something on his phone—watching a video, it looks like. Then he nods, shoves the phone in his back pocket, and begins measuring and marking. And he does in fact measure not just twice but three times before making his cuts. I’m not sure what he’s attempting to build just yet. He measures, marks, cuts, and after he’s made his cuts he measures again, and finally seems satisfied. Then, he begins assembling.
After a few minutes, I understand what he’s building: a trunk with a lid. He must have brought his own set of hinges, since that’s not something we typically have just laying around worksites. When he’s done, he looks up at me for the first time, and gives a lopsided grin. Waves.
I sigh, and finally climb out of my truck, head over to examine his handiwork.
He gestures at the trunk as I approach. “Well? What do you think?”
I examine it. Begrudgingly, I have to admit it’s actually pretty well done. “The joins are even, no overlapping or gapping, nice and tight. Sturdy, square…” I move the hinged lid. “I have to admit, I’m impressed.”
He grins, and if I was a woman of weaker moral fiber, my panties would probably be melting right now. “High praise, from you.”
I shrug. “I mean, it’s a box made from scrap lumber and plywood. But considering the source, Iammoderately impressed.”
He rolls his eyes. “Last time we spoke, you didn’t think I’d know which end of a hammer to hold on to. And a couple weeks ago, you wouldn’t have been far from the truth.”
“Just one question.” I gesture at the trunk. “Why?”
He laughs, raking a hand through his hair. And dammit, why does that silly gesture put butterflies in my belly? It’s dumb.
“I dunno. I’ve been watching carpentry videos, and this seemed…attainable.” He plays with the lid, opening and closing it. “Next step is to figure out how to make the outside look nice, like with fancy wood.”
“Fancy wood. Just…wow.” I eye him. “Why are you watching carpentry videos, though? This kind of woodworking”— I gesture at the box—“has very little to do with that kind,” and here I gesture at the framing.
A shrug, and a nod. “I know. But it’s basic skills, I guess. If I’m going to own half of a construction company, I should at least have an inkling of a clue, right? And as you’ve pointed out, I don’t. So I’ve got to start somewhere.”
I gesture at the tools. “Put that stuff away. Let’s talk site checks.”
He puts everything back where it goes, locks the trailer, and follows me into the shell. At this point, I don’t need a tape measure to know if something is off but I still bring one, just because even if you can reliably eyeball the sixteen-inch space between studs, you still have toknow.
“So, some basics.” I tap a stud. “This is a stud. Basic vertical support post. There should be no less than sixteen inches between studs, and no more than twenty-four.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve spent the last week and a half shadowing Cal, actually. I can’t say I know all the standards off the top of my head like he does, but I do have—” he pulls a small black Moleskine notebook from a back pocket, and hands it to me. “My handy-dandy…notebook!”
I can’t help a laugh. “Did you really just referenceBlue’s Clues?”
“Yes, I did.” He breaks out in an embarrassed laugh. “Dell and I once got super stoned after school one day, and we spent an entire afternoon watching old schoolBlue’s Clues.”
I roll my eyes. “Not surprising in the least. Right about your maturity level, at that point, too.”
I flip through the pages: he’s filled dozens of pages with notes on construction standards, complete with surprisingly good diagrams. It’s like he put himself through a crash course on home building.
“Again, I’m impressed. You did all this in the last week and a half?” I hand the notebook back.
He nods, with another of those laconicwhatevershrugs. “Yeah.”
I continue my check of the shell, measuring and double-checking, making sure everything is up to my personal standards. “So you really are actually planning on, like,doingthis?” I walk up the bare plywood stairs to the second floor, eyeballing trusses and ceiling joists from below. “Buying out Dell…it’s really not some kind of joke the two of you are playing on me?”
He doesn’t answer right away. In fact, when I glance at him to see if he even heard my question, he seems to be wrestling with what to say, how to answer. His jaw is tight, and his brow furrowed.
After a long silence, he just shakes his head. “No, it’s not.”
