My head lifts. “You think it will be so soon?”
“Should be,” she says. “The land is cleared, and we trenched and stubbed the utilities during Phase One. If not for the fire, we would have had you settled before the holidays.”
“That was the original plan when I applied for the job,” I acknowledge. “But life happens. The hotel isn’t all that bad. At least someone else does my cleaning and laundry.”
Her lips twitch. “Don’t like chores?”
I give her an incredulous look. “Does anyone?”
“I enjoy cooking, baking, and doing dishes. It’s meditative.” She lifts a shoulder. “Jared likes sweeping and laundry. I think he likes creating a pile and then making it go away.”
The mention of the other Alpha of this house pricks at me. “How’s he doing?”
She nudges the can of stain to remind me of the current task. “He still gets some assholes commenting in town, but things have quieted down a lot. People have other things to distract them.”
“Hopefully, it all blows over soon.” I shake my head. “He didn’t deserve what happened to him.”
“No, he didn’t.” Emily clears her throat. “You should definitely send a pic to your mom.”
I can’t help but feel proud of what we’ve accomplished. The shoe rack with bench combo and the small bookshelf with its three equally spaced shelves bear little resemblance to the pile of lumber we started with on Monday.
Emily taught me how to select the boards, checking for warping and knots. After only five days, I catch myself already planning what the next project will be.
“What about your parents?” I ask, looking up at Emily. “Are they proud of what you’ve accomplished?”
Emily’s brow furrows as she takes in the shop, the silence stretching a beat longer than before. “I like to think they would be. They passed away.”
My gut tightens. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
She lifts one shoulder. “It was a long time ago. After they passed, I finished my high school years in the foster system, which is where I learned about construction. They offered skill training for the older kids, so we wouldn’t be left homeless once we aged out of the system.”
I slow my hands, the cloth hovering over the wood. “That’s… a hell of a way to learn.”
Emily’s eyes drift to the far wall without seeing. “It kept me busy. Gave me a solid goal to strive toward.” She exhales through her nose. “And it turned out I had a knack for it.”
“That’s a good program to offer kids,” I say. “Not many places would do that.”
“The staff figured if they could get the kids interested in an occupation, they’d stick around long enough to finish school.”
“Did it work?” I ask.
A corner of her mouth lifts. “I stuck around for a while.” She taps the workbench with two fingers. “Dropped out, and then went back later. Took the long way around.”
“There’s no shame in taking your time,” I say. “Most people are still trying to figure things out.”
Her thoughtful gaze returns to me. “You included?”
“I’d like to say no, but it would be a lie.” One shoulder lifts in a shrug. “Teaching has a way of reminding you there’s always more to learn.”
She nods once, as if that answers a question she hadn’t asked aloud. “You’re doing great with Quinn. She loves you.”
“Speaking of…” I check my watch and sigh. “I should finish this section and clean up. School dismissal is in forty minutes.”
“First week complete.” Emily brushes wood shavings from her work apron. “How did Quinn do?”
“Better than expected.” I apply stain to the final corner of the rack. “A few rough patches Monday and Tuesday, but by Wednesday she stopped calling with imaginary stomach aches.”
Emily laughs, the rich sound filling the shop. “Progress.”