Calder Storm (Calder Saga 10)

But peace and quiet had become rare commodities at The Homestead now that work on the master suite had gone into full swing. There always seemed to be a steady stream of tradesmen and laborers tromping through the house, either on their way in or out. When one wasn’t hammering, another was drilling, sawing, sanding, or ripping out something.

As usual, Chase took refuge outside on the front veranda, away from all the noise, dust, and chaos going on inside. He sat in his rocker, half-glowering at the collection of vans and trucks parked in front of the house, spoiling his view. When the front door opened, he threw an impatient glance at the fresh blast of noise, then tempered it as Cat emerged, balancing a pitcher of tea and two glasses on a tray.

“How about some iced tea? It’s freshly made.” She had a cheerful smile fixed on her face, but he detected a bit of tightness in it that suggested her nerves were as frayed by the constant racket as his own.

“Sounds good, as long as it isn’t gritty from all the dust and who-knows-what in the air,” he grumbled in ill humor.

“Now, Dad, it isn’t that bad.” She set the tray on the side table and poured them each a glass.

“Then how come my soup crunched at lunch today?”

“I told you that was probably a pepper chunk. For whatever reason, my pepper mill isn’t grinding it as fine as it usually does,” Cat replied with tested patience.

He grunted his skepticism and took a sampling sip of the cold tea. “It seems to be all right,” he admitted grudgingly.

“Of course it is.” She took a seat in the other rocking chair and picked up the cardboard fan lying on the side table. Idly, she waved it in front of her face. “It’s really gotten hot today.”

“Hot and dry.” A rancher at heart, Chase never could overlook the lack of rain.

“It usually is in July.”

The front door opened again, and a laborer muscled an oversized trash can through the opening. Without a glance in their direction, he lugged it across the deck and down the front steps, then dragged it to a Dumpster.

“What the hell are they hauling out now?” Chase frowned, his gaze narrowing as he tried to determine its contents.

“Probably wallpaper.”

“Wallpaper? Where in God’s name did they get that?”

Cat barely managed to suppress a sigh. “Don’t you remember? Sloan told us—I think, it was either yesterday or the day before—that when they took out the wall sconces in the bedroom, they discovered that under the paint there were at least three layers of wallpaper. So they’re stripping all of it off.”

“Good Lord, how long is that going to take?” His big hands gripped the armrest in rigid anger. “At this rate, it’ll be time for roundup before they finally get done.”

“Keep your voice down,” Cat said in a sharp hiss, her glance shooting past him to the front door.

“Why should I shush when they?

?re banging away without a thought of all the noise they’re making?” He caught a movement in his side vision and turned his head to see Sloan standing motionless a few feet away.

Regret clouded Sloan’s expression, and the sight of it pulled at Cat. “Don’t pay any attention to him, Sloan. He’s just being his usual grumpy self.”

“No, he’s right. I’m the one who needs to apologize,” she stated. “I just never dreamt fixing up two rooms could take this long. I’m sorry that I’m putting you through all this.”

“We all live and learn, child,” Chase stated, his irritation giving way to a sternness. “Next time Tara offers you a gift, you’ll know to back up and take another look.”

At the mention of Tara, Sloan darted an anxious glance at the collection of vehicles. “She isn’t here, is she?”

“No. She said yesterday that she was flying back to Texas this morning,” Cat replied.

“Good.” Sloan’s shoulders sagged in visible relief.

“Why? Is something wrong?” Cat wondered.

“No, nothing,” The denial was accompanied by a quick shake of the head in emphasis. “The electrician’s running the wires for the new ceiling fixtures in the bathroom, and they almost have all the wallpaper stripped. So I thought I might slip away for a little bit, maybe wander down to the commissary and pick out a video to watch tonight.”

“You go right ahead,” Chase told her, “and see if you can’t find a good western.”

“That means something with John Wayne in it,” Cat interjected.