The Only Purple House in Town (Fix-It Witches, #4)(18)
Over having somewhere to stay? Relatable.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
Iris figured she shouldn’t make a big deal out of his gratitude. “Welcome. I forgot to mention, certain items will be communal—like cooking oil, spices, sugar, tea, and coffee. I’ll figure out how much we use in a month and tell you how much to contribute to keep the kitchen stocked. Label your food to avoid confusion and let me know if you need anything.”
Henry Dale nodded, and she got the impression he was done with the conversation. Since he was older, it would be challenging not to slip into the misguided dynamic that he had authority over her, simply by virtue of greater age. I’m in charge. This is my house. If she repeated that often enough, she might even believe it.
There were three rooms left to rent, but she’d worry about that next month.
Part of her felt like she ought to be making food or offering to entertain these strangers since they felt like guests. But really, she just needed to leave them alone. Iris ate a sandwich and a yogurt for lunch and was about to head back to her room when Henry Dale came into the kitchen.
“I noticed the shed out back. Do you mind if I take a look? There might be tools I could use, and I’ll need somewhere to work.”
“Work?” He’d mentioned that he wanted household projects to keep busy, but she never imagined he would get started on day one.
“Yes, ma’am. I can take down these cabinet doors, wash and sand them and paint them. It should only cost for the paint, and you said you’d knock the labor off my rent.”
Crap. What does he charge per hour? I wonder if he’s planning to work full-time and bill me for the work while living here.
Quickly she said, “I did say that. But I can’t afford to pay you outright, and I can’t afford projects that will cost a ton up front. So it’s probably best if we set an hourly limit.”
“I understand. You need the cash or you wouldn’t be renting rooms in the first place,” Henry Dale said brusquely. “I can’t get handyman work at my age. People are worried I’ll break a hip. So I’ll charge you minimum wage for the work and no more than twenty hours a month.”
Iris did the math. That would mean he was only paying around a hundred dollars a month in cash, but if he slowly improved the condition of the house, it would be a good investment, even if she had to tighten her belt.
“That works for me.”
* * *
Eli was eavesdropping.
He hadn’t intended to, but he came down the stairs and heard Iris discussing plans for home repair with their other roommate, an older man he hadn’t met. Somehow, it helped knowing he wouldn’t be rattling around this big house alone with Iris. With her, he felt like he was ten years old again and awkward as hell. Because it would be weird to do otherwise, he came into the kitchen.
The older man glanced over but didn’t smile. Time to make a good impression.
“I’m Eli,” he said, offering his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Henry Dale Macabee. Likewise. Do you know anything about jigsaws?” The handshake was firm but not to the point that Henry Dale appeared to be compensating for something. Just a polite handshake, no more, no less.
“They’re best used for curves,” he answered.
Henry Dale nodded as if Eli had passed a test. “If I decide to take on that gingerbread, I’ll need a hand. I’m not so nimble these days.”
If he hadn’t noticed the rotten trim outside himself, that declaration might not have made sense. “Just let me know.”
Why am I here? Offering to help an old man update Iris’s house?
“Will do. I’m off to the shed.” With that baffling assertion, the older man let himself out the back door and left Eli staring at Iris.
“He’s okay,” she offered. “A bit abrupt in his manners and rough around the edges. I don’t think he likes people very much.”
Eli surprised himself by saying, “Sometimes I don’t either.”
Iris laughed. “We all have those days, I suspect.”
For him, it was more than that. After his shape-shifting ability kicked in, he’d wondered if his solitary hawkish nature was bleeding through, leaving him predisposed to silence, to those rare and lofty heights where he was alone on the perfect wind stream, carried ever higher and farther from humanity. For some reason—with Gamma moving on—this felt like his last chance, and he didn’t even know why.
Last chance for what?
His brain wouldn’t cooperate. Just being in the kitchen with her made him anxious. His heart fluttered as he produced the rental agreement. “I signed both copies. I brought one for your records.”
“Ah, right! Thank you. I’ll…file this.”
It was adorable because it was so obvious she had no clue what she was doing. Eli could relate. When he’d bought the cottage as a vacation house in Myrtle Beach, it blew him away to realize he was responsible for everything from roof to floor tiles. No landlord to call. Just me.
He opened his mouth to reassure her, then realized he wasn’t supposed to know about homeowner issues and wound up saying, “Do we have laundry facilities on site?”
“Oh! I should have told you already. And Henry Dale too. But your clothes are probably clean for now. Who moves with a sack of dirty laundry?” She gave a laugh that sounded nervous to Eli, and his heightened senses—even in this form—picked up a certain quiver in her tone.