Angel's Peak (Virgin River #10)(77)

George was standing on the porch wearing a carpenter’s apron, looking very much at home. Noah walked up the porch steps. “What’s going on here?”

“Looks like your friends have decided to give you a hand to get you started. Don’t worry, Noah—there’s going to be plenty of work for you to do.” Then he grinned.

Paul Haggerty walked up behind Noah and Ellie, balancing a dozen or so long baseboards over one shoulder. “Morning, Noah, Ellie,” he said as he passed.

Inside the house they found Muriel up on a ladder, using a liquid chemical mixture to slowly remove years of white paint from a solid oak archway that separated the living room from the dining room. She had about two feet of the arch’s natural wood exposed. Walt was at work doing the same thing on the banister. “Hi, Ellie,” Muriel called from her place on the ladder. “I had to take paint off the most beautiful wood at my old house and, let me tell you, it looks awesome when it’s done! You’re going to love this when it’s stained and varnished. It won’t be quick, but it’s worth it. And there’s nothing we can do about the beveled stairs. Each step will have to be replaced from the wear, but it’s not a hard job. I can do it.”

Ellie’s mouth fell open. This was the woman who had been in movies and nominated for Oscars, and was most commonly seen on TV in strapless evening gowns and glittering jewels. And she was talking about replacing the wood on her steps for her? It was unreal.

Luke Riordan came out of the kitchen with his arms full of crinkling, old, rotting wallpaper he’d torn off. He dumped it in the empty dining room. “Morning,” he said. “Art,” he yelled back into the kitchen. “Can you get this pile of trash in the back of my truck? I’ll run by the dump on the way home.”

“Wow,” Ellie said. “Whose idea was this?”

“I don’t know,” Walt said. “Paul, whose idea was this?”

“Not sure. Jack’s maybe?”

Preacher walked out of the kitchen. “Mine,” he said indignantly. “I think it was my idea. We pitch in around here when it’s practical. We need to get you up and running before it gets any colder. Gotta replace all the window glass that’s cracked or broken, and the fireplaces need to be cleaned. You’re gonna need a new furnace I think—you’re on your own there. I don’t know anyone who does that, but I did get a friend from Clear River who said he’d come out this afternoon and get fifty years of soot out of those chimneys in the living and dining rooms. He’s gonna do it as a donation, just to help out. He’s probably got something he’s gonna ask you for, Noah. Like a wedding or funeral or baptism or something—as a rule he’s usually not that generous.”

Noah just laughed. “Hope he’s not planning a funeral. That doesn’t sound good.”

“Ellie, you should get some measurements,” Muriel said. “See what size appliances will work in that kitchen and maybe measure the windows for blinds and the floors for area rugs. It’s not going to take much to get this place habitable. But to get it pretty? That’s going to be a six-month project. But I can help. I love doing this stuff.”

Ellie walked toward Muriel’s ladder and looked up at her. Muriel wore work coveralls, boots, a ratty long-sleeved sweatshirt, gloves and a ball cap. “Muriel,” she said in awe. “You’re a movie star.”

“She’s also a crackerjack carpenter, painter and renovator. You should see what she did to her place, almost entirely alone,” Walt said.

“You were a wonderful help, Walt,” Muriel said. “Of course, you had ulterior motives, but that wasn’t a problem for me. Come see my restored house sometime, Ellie. I love showing it off.”

“Vanni wanted to be here to help, but she’s tied up with the kids, and they’d just be in the way,” Walt said. “Most of these guys have to work all week, but a few of us have time on our hands and will get back here after the weekend. Me. Muriel. George.”

“Someone call me?” George asked, sticking his head in the door.

“No, George. Get back to work,” Walt said.

Ellie turned around and leaned her face into Noah’s chest. He put his arms around her and felt her shoulders shake, heard her sniff. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Don’t cry,” he whispered.

She lifted her head. “They’re so wonderful. How can they be this wonderful?”

He smiled. “I think they practice.”

Fourteen

Maureen Riordan heard from her son Luke about the rally of neighbors who surprised the Kincaids with a work party over the weekend. She was completely charmed by the notion. It sounded like the way things had been in her parents’ day—barn raisings and such. So on Monday morning she drove out to Virgin River. She had a cup of coffee with Luke, then, following his directions, she made her way out to the old house to see what progress had been made.

There was only one beat-up old truck outside the house. Then she heard the sound of a saw inside. For a moment she thought maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to poke around. Obviously a man was working the saw and she was a woman alone. But in a place where the community had pulled together to help one of their own, could there be danger? It must be just another good neighbor inside the house. The door stood open, even though it was cold outside.