The Lakeside Inn, Leeanna Morgan [rosie project TXT] 📗

a child, when her sisters were playing with their dolls, climbing trees, or daydreaming inside a book, she was with her grandfather, helping him build furniture, toys, or anything her grandma needed. Even though she hadn’t built anything in years, she was sure her carpentry skills were one of the reasons she was chosen to work for Barclays.

With earplugs firmly stuck inside her ears, she turned on the sander and smiled in anticipation. In a couple of hours, the tables would look amazing.

Halfway through the second table, the sander stopped. Flicking the switch back and forth didn’t help, so she turned around, ready to check that her sisters hadn’t unplugged the extension cord by mistake.

Standing behind her, with the cord dangling in his hands, was her mysterious neighbor.

Penny frowned. “Why did you do that?”

“I’m trying to work and I can’t do that with the noise you’re making. Have you ever heard of using the garage?”

“I can’t. We moved a lot of Grandma’s furniture in there and there’s no room.”

“Well, make room,” came the gruff response. “Do whatever you have to do to stop the noise you’re making. As well as being annoying, it’s sending dust everywhere. I’m on a tight time frame and can’t afford to miss a few hours of painting.”

“Don’t you think you’re being unreasonable? It’s not as if I’ve been sanding the tables for the entire day.”

Wyatt’s eyes narrowed. “The noise you’re making is only some of the problem. Whenever your sister’s dog leaves the house, he sits under my window, howling. Then another sister knocked on my door an hour ago, wanting to know if I knew anything about the boat shed between our properties. It’s worse than living in Chicago.”

He must be exaggerating. Penny waited for a smile to crack the stern set of his mouth. It didn’t happen. “I’m sorry we’re interrupting you.” She took the cord out of his hand. “I’ll tell Diana to keep Charlie away from your house and Barbara won’t ask any more questions.” She looked at the tables. “I’ll finish the sanding on the other side of the house. Hopefully, you won’t hear as much noise.”

“Thanks.” Wyatt ran his hand around the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about the other day—when I thought you were stealing the flowers.”

Penny took a deep breath. She hadn’t expected an apology, especially after he was so grouchy about being interrupted. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You were right. I should have asked who you were before I yelled.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She glanced at his paint-splattered clothes. “The paintings you’re working on must be important.”

“They are. I promised a gallery I’d have them ready for an exhibition in a few weeks’ time.”

Penny’s eyes widened. “Congratulations. You must be a talented artist.”

“I do my best.”

She bit her bottom lip. Even if she moved to the garage, the noise of the sander could still distract him, especially if he was feeling stressed. “I know what it’s like to work with a tight timeline. Last night, I went for a walk around the lake. It helped clear my mind.”

Wyatt looked at the sander. “And if I’m walking, you could finish the tables.”

Penny wasn’t sure if her suggestion annoyed or amused him. “By the time you return, everything will be a peaceful oasis of tranquility.”

Wyatt crossed his arms in front of his broad chest. “Okay, but I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”

Penny checked her watch. “I’ll make sure I’m finished before then.” Wasting no time, she plugged the sander into the extension cord. “Enjoy your walk.”

Before Wyatt replied, she turned on the sander and ran it over the top of the table. And if she snuck a look at her neighbor’s retreating back as he walked toward the lake, no one would hold it against her. Especially when he had the type of body most women would sigh over.

Wyatt glanced at his watch. In the end, it wouldn’t have mattered how long Penny took to finish the tables. A few minutes after leaving his house, Pastor John had called. He wanted to finalize the registration process for the art program.

With his mind on everything except his current painting, meeting John gave him an excuse to do something else. So, instead of dwelling on the fact that his painting was going nowhere, he drove to The Welcome Center and met Pastor John.

“How many people will you need for the project?” John asked.

Wyatt had been mulling over the same question since he’d seen the tiny home village. “I’d like to include as many people as possible. There are a few stages to the process. To make it easier to involve more people, I thought we could break the project into design, preparation, implementation, and follow-up stages.”

John’s eyebrows rose. “It sounds as though you’ve done this before.”

And just like that, his heart was heavy with grief. “After my wife died, I helped the local hospital organize a community art project. That’s why Ethan asked me to help you. We raised a lot of money for the hospital’s intensive care unit.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know about your wife.”

Wyatt shrugged, but the seemingly careless gesture hid a lifetime’s worth of sorrow. “Helping the hospital’s sponsorship team made me realize I wasn’t alone. Many people lose people they love in terrible circumstances.”

“I’m grateful you’re here. When Ethan told me you were interested in helping us, I thought he was joking.”

“It’s helping me, too. I never would have moved to Sapphire Bay if it weren’t for Ethan, so I guess we both have a lot to be thankful for.” Wyatt made a few notes on the sheet of paper in front of him. “We could hold an informal meeting with the residents at the tiny home village. If you have a barbecue, I’ll provide lunch for everyone. We could talk about the project and keep a register of anyone whose interested in helping.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“It doesn’t have to be difficult.” A light tap on Pastor John’s door made Wyatt turn around. Standing