“Fillin’ ’em quicker than they can bring ’em.”
Delaney laughed and rubbed a smudge of dirt off Phoebe’s cheek. She’d been pitching in when she had time and had been hauling debris to the dumpster most days. Yet she never complained.
“Well, it’s way past quittin’ time.” Delaney patted her back and walked her toward the bar’s entrance, where Phoebe had left her keys on a workbench.
“I can stay until you’re ready to go home.”
Delaney smiled, picked up her keys, and pressed them into her aunt’s hand. “Very sweet, but I know you’re dying to get home and primp for Avery’s arrival tomorrow. So go.”
“Are you sure? I really don’t mind—”
“Yes. I’m sure. Honestly, I’d appreciate some quiet time.” She glanced around and shook her head. “Man, can you believe this place? Trace is an amazing project coordinator. What I would have given to have a guy like him on my team when I was with Pacific Coast.”
Phoebe’s gaze scanned the space, now lit with work lights. The walls were still open studs, but walls had been removed and repositioned to open the space and engineered beams placed to secure the second floor. The drop ceiling had been ripped out, adding height and giving the whole place the illusion of being twice as big. The workmanship was clean, the materials new. It was fresh and vibrated with possibility.
“I knew you’d do something amazing,” Phoebe said, letting Delaney guide her out the door and toward her car. “I just didn’t know you’d do it so fast. I never dreamed this much work was possible in . . . what? Ten days?”
“Almost. We’ve got a great crew that signed on for long days and subcontractors booked in tight succession, a schedule that needs to be finessed with skill to keep us from running over budget. It’s really a finely tuned machine. If one thing falls out of place, like dominos, everything behind it goes down, too. And every mess-up costs money.
“Which reminds me . . .” She winced as she walked Phoebe to her car. Delaney had known she wouldn’t be able to finish this job with her own funds, but she hated asking Phoebe for the money her aunt had offered so early in the process. “Once I got into the second floor, it turns out the termite damage is worse than we first thought.”
“Just let me know what you need, and I’ll get you a cashier’s check.”
“God, you’re a saint.” Guilt and gratitude mixed and swamped Delaney’s chest. She slid her arm around Phoebe’s and cuddled close to her side. “I don’t know how you put up with all of us.”
“I love all of you.” She threaded their fingers and pulled their joined hands to her chest. “When you love someone, you do what you need to do to support them, give them what they need to see them happy.”
Delaney’s mind shot straight back to that afternoon in Ethan’s office when she’d asked for those variances in building code. He could have said no and been within his rights. He could have made this job miserable for her half a dozen different ways, but he hadn’t.
God, she hated the distance between them now. Hated the emptiness it left in her heart.
“Where’d you go?” Phoebe asked.
“Hmmm? Oh, I was thinking about all the ceilings and walls I’m going to be able to take down on the second floor, whic
h will make that space huge and serve as a variety of different things. It could be an event space, or a wine-tasting space, or even a living space. Whatever the future owners decide to call it and do with it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that when I get done with it, it’s going to be a gorgeous, sun-soaked space that will pump the value of this place through the roof. But we’re still a long way from done. Finish work is tedious and time-consuming.”
“One day at a time, honey.” Phoebe paused at her door and turned into Delaney for a hug.
Delaney pulled back, finally voicing something that had been on her mind since Ethan mentioned it. “Hey, I found out that the liquor license to this place is worth some good money. Do you think I should try and sell it separately from the building? It would help with liquid funds for the renovation. But I don’t know if it would hurt the value of the property.”
“Every liquor license in this county is worth a mint—there aren’t any available. Not even any up for sale—of any kind. One of Henry Kilgor’s daughters has been trying to start a tasting room for local wines but can’t because she can’t get a license and can’t even find one to buy.”
“So, I guess I should hold on to it until this place sells in case the buyer wants to use it as a full bar.”
“That would be my suggestion. Consider it a bargaining chip in the sales negotiations.” She leaned and hugged Delaney. “Don’t stay here too late. You need your sleep. You can’t afford to get sick now.”
Delaney soaked in her aunt’s sweetness and thanked God for sending Phoebe into her and her sisters’ lives. “I won’t be far behind you. I just want to play with the wood on the staircase a little. See how it’s going to take a stain.”
She pulled back with another vision for the space in mind. This renovation idea had come to her in a dream. Actually, it had been a nightmare. Regardless, the image had stuck with her, and driven her to follow through on this renovation detail. One she hadn’t told anyone about. Not even Trace.
Delaney wrapped her arms around herself against the crisp evening breeze as she watched Phoebe’s taillights disappear on the main road. Now that she wasn’t working, the air felt cold, and she shivered.
Turning back toward the bar, the glow from the warehouse lights drew her gaze, and a familiar tug made her belly ache. She wished she could wander over and say hi. Wished they could talk about their days over a beer. Wished she could ask him to dinner.
Wished one or both of them were normal. With a normal family.
She took one more look at the soft glow against the sky, sighed, and stepped onto the porch to start her work on the hundred-year-old stairway banister.