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The blue pickup slowly drove down through the hills toward Oak Valley. The instructions rested on the bench seat beside him and he followed them carefully. It was nice of Ben Watts to recommend him for this work. The people in Oak Valley reeked of money. They had more money in one of their houses than all the houses in his hills put together. But, Joe Woodson didn't begrudge them their money. They worked hard for it and as long as they paid him what he was worth, he was happy they had their money.
Joe had worked in the valley before. Actually, he had lived in the valley and performed his duties as a woodworker in one of the shops on the edge of the mountains He had made cabinets in the winter and framed houses in the summer. It was his wife, a psychologist, who made the money in the family and afforded them their 3,000 square foot home with the swimming pool and the membership to the golf and tennis club.
Joe had been at work when a tractor-trailer truck bumped a mini-van and jumped the guardrail, crossing the median and ramming into a 1993 green Mazda. Joe's wife was in the passenger seat of the Mazda and died instantly. Joe and his wife had neglected her life insurance policy and sadly, Joe had to give their house back to the mortgage company. Fortunately, the cabin in the woods was paid for and Joe sold off most of their furniture to downsize into the small 3 room cabin that used a wood stove for heat.
Joe turned off the highway and wound the big pickup around the sharp corners that separated Oak Valley from the bigger communities. Joe's eyes roamed from huge house to huge house. Clearly most of these houses were mansions anywhere else. All the houses were respectfully planted among the trees and beautifully manicured shrubs and lawns. The lots of land were all at least 1 acre in an area where finding 1/4 acre was rare.
The gravel driveway to his right led up a tight winding path wide enough for one vehicle. Joe drove up past the oak trees and evergreen lined walkways. As he turned the corner, the small white building took his breath away. It was an old meeting house/Church. Judging from the architecture and the turned railings, it had to be at least 250 years old. The skill of the old carpenters was thrilling to behold for Joe. The corner cuts were perfect even so many years later. The windows were original hand blown glass and though the porch creaked as he walked in, it gave the building character.
He knocked and entered to find old green painted pews arrayed left and right within the large hall that used to be a Congregational Church sanctuary. He heard a noise to his left and noticed a woman trying to move a heavy bench against the back wall.
"Excuse me, Ma'am" Joe softly called out. "Do you need some help?"
She looked up and smiled. It was a type of smile that Joe had not expected in Oak Valley - a genuine and caring smile. "Sure!" she replied with a modest Boston accent. She wore a gray sweatshirt with the letters A & F, black sweatpants, and New Balance sneakers. Her dark hair was piled up on her head under a Boston Red Sox baseball cap. Maybe she was 30 years old he thought. Joe helped her move the bench to the wall.
When the bench reached the wall, she promptly smiled and thrust out her hand. "I'm Cynthia Austin. Are you Joe?"
Joe reached out his big paw and took her tiny hand in hers, shook once and nodded with a smile.
"Good then" and she gave him his instructions on the wood work that required repair.
He stood there watching her instruct him on what he was to do. His thin face painted a picture of pain and lost love and she could feel it. His legs were muscular and his arms showed thick and knotted muscles right through the old and tattered Virginia State sweatshirt. His hair was in a blonde ponytail out of the back of his green John Deer cap. Cynthia sensed the sadness and pain that dulled his brown eyes and she wondered when he was the last time he was happy.
She shook her head as if to clear her mind of distracting thoughts and moved forward to where the altar used to be. "We used to have an altar here about 100 years ago when it was a Church. Now, only the Oak Valley Women's Club meets here."
He looked at where the altar used to be and then back at her. Her eyes were like a pin wheel maze and he felt that if he looked for just a short time, he would lose all ability to focus. Her blue eyes were edged by India Ink black that captivated him. He looked away. "What needs to be done?"
"We need a new lectern built that will fit over this hole in the floor." She smiled at him again and stepped around the hole.
Nice teeth - he thought. Losing his mind in her eyes, he said, "Why not buy one? It would be cheaper than having one custom built"
She smiled, but it wasn't a kind smile anymore. "Joe" She paused "Do you see anything cheap in this building? Do you see anything mass-produced? Is there any object in this room that is not a period piece or at least hand made?" another pause "Do you??"
Joe looked around as if he was really going to answer her question. Her confidence and in some way, her arrogance had reduced him to a small child being scolded for not having common sense. "No Ma'am".
"Here are the plans for the lectern and a spec sheet for the necessary work above the windows. Additionally, at the bottom of the page … "she pointed her finger "there … and … there, are the prices we'll pay for the work."
He nodded as he looked over the prices, but in his mind he replayed her finger pointing at the page. The fingernail was manicured beautifully and painted a light peach. "The prices are fine" he spoke with a rasp in his voice as he realized the number was 3 times what he would have normally charged.
*****
Cynthia left, but returned a short while later at lunch time. Joe marveled at the transformation. Kneeling on the floor, he looked up without staring. Gone were the sweatshirt, sweatpants and sneakers. She had changed into a conservative, dark blue, business suit. The hat was gone in favor of a classic bun that held her long hair on top of her head. She looked ready to host the evening news.
The look of surprise showed on Joe's face and Cynthia smiled a quick smile at her effect on men.
Joe wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead, "I've cleared out the rotted wood above the windows and I was just about to get an order ready for the lumber mill for the lectern and the replacement wood."
She walked by him, "No need, I've already ordered the wood and it should be here by 1:00pm." She checked her watch while Joe checked her legs. They were long, smooth and a little muscular. If he knew more about women's apparel, he would have noticed that she wore silk stockings from Italy to go with the blue classic Italian pump heels. To Joe's disappointment, her skirt extended below her knee.
Still kneeling on the floor, he asked, "How'd you know how much to get?"
She smiled and touched her cheek. "I measured it!" She paused a second. "I have a meeting with my husband's board this afternoon, an aerobics class at 4:00pm, and a reception tonight at 8:00pm." She kneeled in front of him with her legs closed tightly giving him no hope for a view. "Here is the key. Please lock up when you leave and I'll see you tomorrow morning after my kids go to school".
