“It’s the thought that counts,” I told Trip. “Besides, I’m sure it’s nicer’n you think.”
He shrugged. “I guess.”
Christy did her best to hide her annoyance.
“Just open it,” I said.
He tore into the package and then looked slightly unimpressed at the
contents of a small wooden box.
I thought they were pretty—cut-glass cups, one red and one blue—but Christy’s reaction didn’t match mine.
She leaned in and her eyes widened. “Ooh, kiriko.”
“What’s that mean?” Trip said.
“It’s a kind of glass,” she explained. “Handmade. They’re antiques.”
“Handmade? Antique?”
“Mmm.” She took one of the delicate glasses out of the box. She held it up to the light, and even Trip was impressed by the bold color and gentle gradations.
“So… not ‘nothing’?” he said.
“Not nothing,” she agreed.
“Wow. Okay,” he said. “Color me impressed. Get it… ‘color’?”
She gave him a flat look.
“Better leave the puns to me,” I said.
“Whatever,” he said. “Open yours.”
My own gift was a little larger than a deck of playing cards. I opened it and didn’t understand what I was looking at. It was a metal disk with a notch in the center and a pattern of three fan-like leaves engraved in gold. It was interesting, whatever it was, but a total mystery.
“It’s a tsuba,” Christy explained. “A guard for a katana.”
“Like… the sword?”
“Exactly. They’re handed down in samurai families.”
Trip’s eyes widened at the familiar Japanese word. We’d all seen Shōgun on TV, after all.
“It looks like a real one,” Christy added unnecessarily. “This must’ve been in Sayuri’s family for a long time.”
“Hold on,” I said as realization dawned, “d’you mean she just gave me a family heirloom?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
“Uh…,” Trip said all of a sudden, “I hate to ask, but… what did we give her?”
“Don’t worry,” Christy said, “you gave her something special.”
“Yeah, but what?”
“A piece of art.”
“That’s it?” he said.
She clenched her fists and did her level best not to stomp her foot. Then,
in a very calm voice, she said, “Yes, a piece of art. I painted it last year in the prefecture where Sayuri grew up. It took me three days.”
I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing as Trip tried to backtrack.
“Oh, wow! Okay. That sounds special, all right.”
“I thought so, yes.”
At that point, he decided that discretion was the better part of valor. He mumbled something about showing his gift to Wren and beat a hasty retreat upstairs.
I waited until he’d gone before I gathered Christy to me.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I don’t know why I let him get to me.”
“Eh, it’s okay. He gets on my nerves sometimes too. Like Wren does to you.”
“And now you know why I’m not in a hurry to… you know.”
“That’s okay too. Neither am I.”
“But… I thought…?”
“That’s the beauty of being in a relationship.” I kissed the top of her head.
“We make decisions together. If one of us isn’t happy, we do things differently.”
“Easy for you to say,” she muttered.
“Don’t worry, we won’t do anything till you’re ready.”
“And what if I’m never ready?”
“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.”
She sighed and hugged me tighter. “You and your words.”
Christy and I came home from dance practice on Monday and had barely walked through the front door when Trip stuck his head out of his office.
“Hold on,” he said into the phone, “Paul just got home.” He muffled the receiver against his shoulder and said to me, “Let’s chat when you get a chance. It’s important.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Christy gave me a half-annoyed, half-curious look. I sent her into the kitchen with a kiss and a silent promise to tell her later.
“Okay, what’s up?” I asked Trip as I joined him in his office.
He was still on the phone, so he gestured for me to have a seat.
“Yeah, I think I have everything,” he said to the person on the other end of the line. “I’ll talk to Paul and go over my notes and do some revised estimates.” He nodded as the other person said something. “Probably the end of the week. I have a full schedule tomorrow, but I’ll work on it Wednesday.
It’ll only get us in the ballpark, though. We won’t know more until we take a look in person. Will that do? Uh-huh. Okay. Sounds good. We’ll be in touch.”
He hung up, slid down in his chair, and blew out a long breath.
“Susan?” I guessed.
“Yeah. And you’d better sit down.” He realized that I already was. Then he scrubbed his hands over his face and let out another sigh. “God, that was intense.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, fine.” He inhaled sharply and sat up. “But you and I need to have a serious discussion.”
“’Bout what?”
“What do you think? The job this summer. Except, ‘this summer’ might be just the start of it.” He moved a plate with the remains of his dinner and then straightened papers as a way to organize his thoughts. “Okay, here’s the situation. Susan got our estimate back in… what?” He found a piece of paper and read the date. “February. Damn. Was it really only two months ago?
Seems like forever. Anyway, she got our estimate and had three local contractors submit bids too. They all came back higher than ours. Like, ten times higher.”
My eyes bugged.
“Right,” he agreed. “Which tells me two things. One, we underestimated the work. And two, Susan expanded the scope. So, here’s what I found out.
Our original estimate was based on your notes and her guesses. Nothing wrong with those, but once she had the local guys look at the job, she realized things were a lot worse than she’d thought. She called it ‘benign neglect,’ but she basically means your friend Jeremiah fixed the surface issues and didn’t address a lot of the underlying problems.”
“Paint over the water stains,” I said with a nod, “but ignore the leak itself.”
“Exactly. So the local contractors found a lot more problems than you or Susan suspected. Your dad sort of told her the same thing. He mentioned all the work you guys did on the electrical service for the clubhouse and said
what a mess it was. The whole camp is like that, evidently.”
“Oh, boy.”
“‘Oh, boy’ is right. So, we underestimated the work. Not our fault, but it happened. The other thing we have to deal with is that Susan expanded the scope of the project based on the local guys’ initial comments. According to them, several of the larger cabins aren’t worth renovating. They have dry rot, water damage, foundation issues, you name it. They’re used less often than the smaller cabins, so they didn’t receive as much maintenance. They’ve just been rotting away for thirty years.
“We agreed it might make more sense to demolish them and rebuild, but she needs to look at her visitor numbers for the past few years to make sure it’s justified. Jeremiah mostly took care of that, and she realized she’s let things slide. But wait, there’s more,” he said before I could reply. “She also wants us to take a look at the new Retreat. The clubhouse and pool are finished, but the bungalows themselves still need work. She was going to have Jeremiah—”
“Gunny,” I interrupted. “Everyone called him Gunny. Only Susan called him Jeremiah.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Trip said, “but she kept saying ‘Jeremiah,’
so I wasn’t sure. Anyway, he was going to oversee the rest of the construction on the bungalows at the Retreat. They’re all in the dry and have finished exteriors, but the interiors still need work. So we’d need to trim them out and install the fixtures. But that’s only the first part of that project.” He took a deep breath before he continued.