Cracked Foundations

"Sounds like her daddy." Natalie's eyes sparkled. "Well, I'll let you get back to what you were doing. I just wanted to let you know about the shower."

"I wasn't busy, just watching the news. I'll give my friend a call. He should be able to come over tomorrow or the day after and fix that drain," I told her as I moved to get the backdoor for her.

"Thanks again. Good night."

As I watched Natalie's curves moving in the light from the backdoor, as she walked towards the garage, I'm glad she didn't look back. These sweat pants could not hide the sudden attention she was getting from within them.

Natalie

The next morning, I called the Historic Society and got an appointment for a couple of days later.

Great, I thought. Two days to worry. Loans were difficult to get these days under almost any circumstances, and I could just imagine what they would think when they saw me. A single woman at forty-two, unemployed, no kids, and who had left her life, such as it was, behind—I'm sure they'd love that.

"Never mind," I said aloud. I would make this work, somehow. Even if I wasn't confident, I'd act like I was.

Since the meeting wasn't for a couple of days, and I couldn't do much on the house, I took advantage of the time to relax, when I wasn't meeting with contractors. Stan was there for some of them, or I'd call him afterwards to run my impressions by him. I liked talking to him. No matter what Tom had said, I knew Stan was a decent guy.

He might have run away when he was younger, but he hadn't run out on his daughter. That said a lot about him, I thought. I could tell by his voice and face when he talked about Rowena how much he loved her. He'd changed, or matured, or both.

The night before the meeting with the Historic Society, I didn't sleep well. I didn't like to be pessimistic, but I was nervous and wanted it all to go well. If I couldn't get the money to renovate the house, I wasn't sure what I'd do next. I made myself calm down and took a shower. Still a quick one; Stan's friend hadn't been able to come check the drain.

I felt better after the shower, and even sang along with some music while I decided what to wear. The phone rang and I checked the screen.

"Hi, Mitchell," I said, a little wary.

My younger brother and I had led very different lives. At thirty-six, he had already been married for eight years and had two children. He had done everything my parents had expected, and in the right order. I had a feeling he was calling to scold me, and it turned out I was right.

"Natalie, what the hell is going on with you?"

"I'm fine, thanks. How are you and Lisa? And the kids?"

"Natalie, stop it. This is crazy. What's gotten into you?"

I sighed. "I am not doing anything so terribly unusual. I inherited a house and I came down to fix it up and possibly live in it. It's a big change but it's not like I'm giving up all my material possessions to go live in a yurt or something."

"This is a huge mistake. You had a good job and a great apartment. You've chucked it all for what? Sentimentality? Jesus, Natalie."

"What? I was supposed to stay in a job where they were going to fire me?" I started to get angry even though I knew he wouldn't listen. "For God's sake, Mitch, they were blaming me for things I didn't do and my boss was harassing me."

"Don't be melodramatic," he said, sounding just like our mother. "There are mix-ups all the time at anyone's job."

"Anyone ever tell you to sleep with them, Mitch? Anyone ever pressure you for sex to keep your job?"

"Nat, for Pete's sake. You probably misread the situation."

My family, prime owners of real estate on Da Nile. "Mitch, please, just tell me what you want." I sat down and rubbed my forehead.

"I want you to knock this off. Sell the house and get your job back. Hell, come stay with us while you look for a new one. Seriously, Nat, this is crazy. You're going to regret it."

"Maybe I will, but so what? I'll recover."

"You could lose a lot of money here. I checked online and you'd be almost better to knock it down and sell the land. I'm trying to look out for you."

"I can handle this myself, thank you."

After another couple of minutes of going around, we ended the call. Glad that was out of the way, I started getting ready. The phone rang again, and I answered without looking at the screen.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Natalie."

I stifled a groan. "Hi, Mom."

"I just spoke with Mitchell. He said you're still down South, and still going through with this." Disapproval could not have been plainer if she'd been there in person.

"I'm fine, thanks. How are you and Dad?"

She tsked. "Natalie, please. You shouldn’t be doing this. In this economy? And you're a forty-two-year-old woman? The longer you're out of the job market, the harder it will be to get back in. You know that."

"Did it ever occur to anyone that maybe I needed a break? That being harassed and accused of things like fraud might have worn me out a little?"

"Then take a vacation, sweetie. Go to a spa. But you quit your job! A good, secure job, and then you took on this project, which is going to bleed you dry, and—"

"Mom, please stop. I have an appointment this morning and I'm not arguing this again. Uncle Jimmy—your brother—left me this house, and I always loved it. I've saved up, and I'm not asking you or Dad or Mitchell for money, so I don't know why anyone really cares."

"It's a house, Natalie. That's all. There are millions of houses in the world. You don't need to go to these lengths for a bunch of wood and concrete."

"It's more than just a house to me," I said. "It's—oh, never mind."

"Mitchell would never do anything like this, I don't know where you get it from."

"Maybe I was adopted."

Mom was silent at that, and I grinned at my small, ridiculous victory. To celebrate, I chose my favorite blue dress with white trim. Summery, but not too casual, I thought it would be appropriate for the meeting, especially with the light white jacket that went with it.

"Do you know what it's like, explaining this to people?" my mother said after a moment.

"Yeah, I do." Despite my efforts, I couldn't hide the sarcasm. "Mom, I have to go. Love you and Dad. Bye."

I was just about ready when the phone rang again. It was Mitch again. I put it down and let the call go to voice mail.

The meeting with the board went better than I had anticipated. They had done an inspection a year or so ago, and so could deal with my application right away. As Stan had said, their estimate was higher than his, so at least I wasn't surprised by the numbers. With their paperwork in hand, I went to the bank and applied for the loan. The officer assured me he saw no problems, and they would get back to me soon. I left the bank feeling better than I had in months.

I decided to treat myself to lunch. As I thought about it, a lunch alone was no way to celebrate a big first step like this, so I called Stan and invited him to meet me. I didn't realize how worried I was he'd refuse until he accepted and suggested a restaurant.

"You look like a woman on a mission," he said as we sat down.

"A woman who completed a mission," I corrected with a smile, and told him about the meeting and the bank.

"That's great, congratulations," he said.

"I guess we can really get started now."

"Whenever you're ready," he agreed. "In fact, we could get started after lunch. Although I wanted to say something first."

"What?" I hoped he didn't want to back out. The idea made my stomach hurt.

"I know what Tom said about me. It's nothing hasn't been said before. I'm not apologizing for anything I've done; I've made up for all the mistakes I can. I won't let people make me feel guilty for that."

"Stan, I—" I began tentatively, but he shook his head to stop me.

"If you aren't comfortable with me, I'll step back. I know Tom wouldn't steer you wrong with recommendations, and there would be no hard feelings on my part. Think about it first, before you say anything."

I did, but not because he told me too. I was surprised; I hadn't expected him to say anything like it.

"Stan, I don't want you to quit, please." I reached across the table and put my hand on his, surprising both of us. "I need your help. I don't care what Tom said about the past. We all have a past, we all have things we did wrong, or regret, or whatever. I trust you."

"Why?" he asked.

I smiled. "Because Uncle Jimmy did. There was a letter with the will, and he told me to talk to you first. He said to never mind what anyone else said, you were the one to help me. And Uncle Jimmy was a smart guy."

Stan looked at me for a minute, then smiled back. "All right, then." He moved his hand and patted mine. "Can't let Uncle Jimmy down."

"So we can get started, then?"

He tilted his head and studied my outfit, then grinned. "You better change first."

Stan:

We didn't start that day after lunch, but we did when the bank loan came through a few days later.

I couldn't help but feel disappointed that I didn't see her car as I turned into her driveway. I pulled to the side so that Andy could pull up beside me. His lumbering behemoth of a diesel truck chugged to a stop. I just imagined the hiss of air from it, like it was a big rig. As I climbed out I turned at the sound of a horn and hugged the side of my truck dramatically as Natalie pulled in next to us.

If I had been younger I would have jumped into the bed of my truck screaming, but those days are over, I'm afraid.

"Good timing," I told her as she got out. "Natalie, this is Andy Brandson. He's a local masonry contractor I've worked with. Andy, this is the lady with a house problem."

"So I can see from here. Pleasure to meet you, Miss Natalie." He pulled a flashlight from his truck, one of the big Maglight ones. "I'll need to take a look around to make sure this fool knows what he's talking about, then I can give you an estimate."

"Sure."

We watched Andy lumber off, then she turned to me. "Big guy."

"Well, he picks up concrete for a living. So, how did it go?"

"So far, so good. The loan came through and I'm going to go over later and pick up the check from the Historic Society." She looked happy, and I liked it when she looked that way.

"The bank set you up a draw system?"

"Yep, it was the easiest way to go." She held up the pay slips and fanned them underher chin. "I'm loaded now!"

We both laughed.

"So, what's next?" she asked. "Or, maybe I should ask what's first, since we haven't started yet."

I nodded as my brain was going over time. "I want to make a suggestion." At her nod I continued. "Given that you now have a bit more money to play with, I want to bring in my crew to handle that roof. That has been the only part worrying me. You see, Andy is going to have to pick up the house to fix the foundation."

"Pick it up?"

"Yeah, he'll bring in braces that crank up and lifting pads and jacks and lift the whole house at one time. My concern is that the roof, given that it's already sagging, might give way when he does that. I'd like to have my guys get it fixed first."

"What about the floor?" she asked looking over to the crawl space door Andy had gone into. "Won't it give way when he lifts the house?"

"No. He won't be lifting it by the floor. He'll find the structural points. Load bearing walls. Inside corners." I started to explain structural load carriage but she waved me off.

"I'll have to take your word for it, Stan. I'm a doctor, not an engineer." We both grinned at the Star Trek reference, and then she sighed. "Well, it felt good to have the money for a few minutes. How much? And what happened to me helping out to save money?"

I smiled. "Oh, you will be. You will Be." I warned in my best Yoda voice.

Andy came crawling back out then, looking just like a big grizzly bear waking from hibernation. When he walked over to us, the look on his dusty face was grim. Then he gave her the estimate. I just wish I had gotten mine in first. It would have been a lot easier.

The next day, I tapped on the apartment door of my garage. I waited a few minutes then tapped again. While I waited I turned to looked across my yard to my neighbor's wall of white Bradford pear trees. Shivering a little in the early damp, I turned around when I heard the chain latch being opened.

"Good morning," I said, smiling brightly. Natalie stared at me, not happy.

"How can you be this awake at this hour? And why are you bothering me?" She was curious and tired.

"Did you forget last night was a school night, young lady?" I shook my finger at her. "I told you we were starting today. You should have gone to sleep at a respectable hour."

"Stan, I haven't had my morning tea yet," she warned, then yawned.

"Tea in the morning? Hot? Yuck. Anyway, there is a big pot of coffee sitting in my kitchen along with breakfast." I gave the tank top and sweat pants she's wearing a look, without trying to look like I'm staring at those gorgeous—damn! Eyes up! "Go on, get dressed. Doesn't have to be fancy."

"That's good, I don't do fancy. I also don't do coffee, so you'll have to wait until the tea is ready."

I was going to answer, but my phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket, saw it was one of my guys. I sent him to voice mail, then checked the time. When I looked back up she was still staring at me.

"Wakie wakie, eggs and bakey. Food's getting cold," I told her with a smile.

She sighed. "All right. Give me thirty minutes."

"Ten," I countered.

"Fifteen." She shut the door.

I nodded to the closed door, then tapped on it again. She opened it after a moment.

"What?" she asked, irritated.

"I forgot to tell you that you look beautiful in the morning."

The look she gave me as she closed the door was priceless.

She was at the house in twelve minutes, tea in hand. I didn't drink hot tea myself, and couldn’t figure out how she got through a day without coffee. After some tea and breakfast, she was significantly cheerier, and we drove over to the house.

With a soft whistle I looked up at the nine-foot ceilings; the decorative crown molding; the big plaster ceiling medallion with its capped hanging wires from where the ceiling fan was removed.

"Man, they do not make them like this anymore." I unfolded the platform-topped step ladder. Looking over at Natalie, I saw her apprehension. "Don't worry, we'll make it look just like this again when we're all done."

"You're sure? I hate that we have to tear all this out."

"Well, yeah it is a shame. You have to look at it like this, though. If we didn't do this some time in the next few years, give or take, this roof section will collapse and it would all be destroyed then anyway." I made sure the ladder was locked open.

"That's not how to cheer me up, Stan." She took the sledge hammer I had given her to carry and placed it so it leaned against the side of the ladder. "So, just how much do I have to tear out?"

"All of it."

"All of it? We can't save anything?" she asked.

I wished I could have told her what she wanted to hear. I knew that Natalie didn't want to tear into her house. Her childhood memories where still a part of this old plaster and wood. I had wracked my brain for another way to do this, but there wasn't one. There were only half-steps, and I knew where it led: to half-done repairs that I wouldn't warranty.

Picking up the sledge hammer, I walked up the ladder and with a heavy blow broke through the plaster and wood lathe. Hooking the head of the hammer I gave a tug and long jagged cracks splintered all across the ceiling.

Kneeling down on the ladder platform, resting my chin on the hammer handle, I looked into her dismayed face. I had to explain.

"Without the support wall that was here, your ceiling has begun to warp. You couldn't see it because it all had settled. The lathes that hold up your plaster have pulled loose. All this plaster weight is just hanging there. Now, I'm going to have to cut all those warped beams out. I can't have my guys walking above this, trying to jack up your roof, on beams that could break at anytime under their weight. I'm sorry, Natalie, but it has to come down."

"Is it safe to be standing here?" she asked nervously. She kept her voice low, like a person in a cave afraid that talking might bring down the ceiling above them. "Is it going to fall in on me as I try to pull it down?"

Taking the crowbar, I hooked it in the hole I had just made and pulled down. More cracks appeared. Then I let my weight hang from it for a second.

"It's good. You'll have to work to get it to come down and then it will be in pieces, not whole rooms."

"Okay. So what do I do?" Natalie was determined now.

Taking the smaller hammer from my belt, I knocked three holes in the ceiling. "You need to make a line of holes like this. Go from one side of the room to the other," I explained. I took the crow bar and hooked it inside. "When you have that done, just pull."

Plaster split between the three holes. I tugged and a section about the size of a pie pan pulled loose from its lathe and dropped to the floor. Quick tugs broke the wooden slats.

"That's all there is to it," I said, waving the dust from in front of my face. "Start here and keep pulling down till you have the whole living room and hallway torn out."

She was looking at the piece that had dropped, then up at the wood beams above the hole I had just made. The roof in this split-level section was about three feet above the ceiling, and clearly visible when I reached up and pulled out the old insulation.

"That will take awhile." she said. "And it's going to make one hell of a mess."

"Yes, to both of those. But the good part is you don't have to clean up the mess. I'm going to go get one of my guys to come over here with a shovel and wheelbarrow and haul it all out." Checking my cell phone, I saw that my guys should be up and going on the job I had them on. Time to go make sure everything was running smooth. "I'll be back in about six hours. Think you'll be done by then?"

"I don't know," she said with a shrug.

"Good answer." I smiled. "Never, in construction, tell someone when a job will be done. They will insist on that date no matter how badly something went wrong. So, I will leave you to tearing your house apart and I'll be back with someone to get up the mess."

"Okay. I think I can handle it." she told me. She climbed the ladder carefully, and her unsteady climb worried me till she got on the platform and start to work. I watched for a moment then turned to leave. I stopped when I remembered something.

"Oh yeah, be on the look out for Andy. He'll be dropping by to start bringing in equipment and he might be putting in some supports under the house."

"I'll watch—" A big piece of plaster came loose to smack the floor. "—out for him. Hey, this is fun."

"Tell me that in six hours. Have a good day." I was nearly out the door when I smiled and stuck my head back in. "Hey, Natalie."

"Yes?"

"Remember no cat calls or whistling at sexy ladies walking past. I'll have to fire you for doing that," I warned her with a grin.

"I think I can manage to control myself," she said drily.

"Well, see that you do."

I stepped back out and listened to her go to work. Putting my head back around I couldn't help but look at her ass as she stretched up and reached towards the ceiling.

"Wheet wheew!"

I loved the startled look on her face, then that sexy blush.

Natalie

I put on my safety glasses and went at it. The fun wore off after the first hour or so, but I didn't mind. I wished I didn't have to tear so much down, but in a way it felt good. The physical labor was refreshing, giving me something concrete—ha ha—to concentrate on.