20. Nate

20

NATE

"I'm not going to lie," I tell my grief group as everyone slurps coffee. "I have no idea what to do here."

DeJuan nods and waits for me to continue. I told them how I've been thinking about hiring a business manager. I've been floundering with paperwork, the property owner is showing up today, and I promised I'd help Eden make hand cream or whatever it's called.

"I'm pulled in too many directions. I'm not cut out for this."

Kenya leans forward. "You know you don't have to do anything you don't want to, right? It's okay to quit things that make you miserable."

DeJuan holds up a hand. "The word quit can carry negative connotations. But Nate, Kenya is right—you don't have to continue doing something you hate. You do not owe your father a lifetime of work in a field you don't enjoy."

I drag my hands through my hair. If I don't run Donovan and Sons Construction, what the hell do I do?

The meeting continues with others sharing about their lives. It's been interesting for me to learn about how things in my life that feel unrelated—like work—can all be affected by grief. I wonder if I feel a block to this work because I miss my dad.

When the meeting wraps up, I head to the job site, not any closer to a path forward. Sparky waves from the porch as I climb next to him. I give him plenty of space because he's trimming quarter rounds. The guys must have made a lot of progress if they're already prepping the trim.

"Nice, Sparky." I toss him a salute on my way inside.

It looks good in here. Not as bad as I thought earlier when I lay awake, tossing and turning. I spy Chris over in the kitchen with the granite guy and make my way toward them. I insert myself into the conversation, and before I know it, hours have passed as we get the final estimates for kitchen fixtures.

Chris and I are bent over the plywood placeholder counter, staring at numbers, when Kenneth the Jagoff sniffs at us from the backdoor. I look at my watch. "Hey, man," I say. "Your flight get in early?"

He doesn't move to shake hands. Instead, he tugs at his suit jacket and frowns around the kitchen. "I was expecting more progress on my investment, Donovan."

My brows fly up. "We're on time, which is a miracle considering some of the situations we've worked through."

Kenneth shakes his head. "I give zero shits about situations. I need this place on the market ASAP. How long until it's habitable?"

Chris clears his throat. "I don't want to tell you how to do your job, but there's nothing stopping you from listing the house at this stage."

Kenneth whips his head around. "And you are?"

"This is my foreman." I place a hand on Chris's back, feeling defensive. My jaw is set and my voice drops a few octaves when I say, "Chris, why don't you run through what you were just showing me about the bathrooms and kitchen?"

The very modest budget didn't leave us a lot of space to get the sort of high-end fixtures Kenneth the Jagoff was expecting, and Chris salvaged a lot of materials from a reuse store. The granite countertops were the one big splurge after we got the restaurant-quality kitchen appliances from a going-out-of-business sale.

But the client is not impressed. "People don't want used furniture," he says, practically kicking the massive stainless-steel fridge as he flails.

Chris arches a brow. "The house itself is used… this isn't new construction."

Kenneth flares his nostrils. "I was promised it would look and feel like new. I need this to appeal to luxury buyers. Christ, I should have known better than to go with a janky operation like this. You know what? Just tell your guys to get out of here. I'll have another crew take over."

My jaw hangs open. He's barely spent time in Pittsburgh, not to mention he's disrespecting Dad's crew. I might be lousy at the business side of the business, but I've known most of these guys since I was in braces. I'm seeing red, but Chris comes to my rescue. Again.

"No disrespect, but I think you'd lose more money trying to get a crew to step in and take over rather than let us close out the scope of work. We're a week away from painting walls, and that's absolutely something the homeowner can weigh in on if you want to list this place. How many of these projects have you seen through to completion, if you don't mind me asking?"

Kenneth turns red. He purses his lips. "Get the fuck out of my face," he says to Chris.

I suddenly find my voice. "Hey, that's uncalled for, man. You want us out? You got it." I slap the plywood. "Give us the second payment, and we'll clear out."

It takes another hour for Jagoff to stop screaming and yelling at his lawyer on the phone. Thankfully, I had the union check over the contract before we signed it, so there were clauses in there to protect our paycheck in these kinds of situations.

Still, I hate leaving something undone. This house was supposed to prove I could fill my dad's shoes. Instead, it's just a reminder I can't get much right. Seated in the cab of Chris's truck, I take a swig of the pop he hands me.

"That guy was an asshole," Chris says.

"Yeah, but I'm the idiot who took the job. I should have listened to you. Now we have to hustle to find another project."

Chris takes a sip and taps his fingers on the steering wheel. We're still parked outside the house, which Kenneth locked up. He had people come out and change the locks, like we'd come back in and piss on his walls or something. Actually, I'm not above it.

Chris faces me. "Don't take this the wrong way, kid, but working for you isn't the same as working for your old man. Donny and I had a good thing going."

I swallow a lump in my throat. "And you don't feel good when I'm in charge."

"Don't be like that, Nate. I'm just saying I think we need to take a deep breath and figure out what we want to do next."

I press my forehead to the glass, knowing full well he means he, Sparky, and the crew are going their separate ways, and I have no fucking clue what to do other than beg them to let me tag along.

I finish my pop and squeeze the can, checking around for the bin Chris keeps in his truck for recycling. I toss the can in with a clink. "Thanks for the pop. And the pep talk."

"Ah, come on, Donny. I still love you like you're my own. Why don't we go to the Black Sox game tomorrow? We can think better with a beer and a ballgame."

I make plans to meet him at the stadium and climb into my truck. Which is when I remember I was supposed to help Eden this afternoon and have dinner with her sisters. "Fuck me," I mutter, turning over the engine. "This day just keeps delivering."

I haul ass to Garfield and jump up the steps two at a time, bursting into Eden's house to find chaos. I don't see her mom anywhere, but my guess is she caused whatever happened. The Storm sisters have hung rows of string throughout the dining room. There are pans of water bubbling everywhere, the house is a thousand degrees, and it looks like nun chucks are swaying in the breeze of a bunch of oscillating fans.

I spy Eliza pulling nun chucks from a giant pot… no, not weaponry. Candles. I step over to her. "Hey, is Eden here? I'm sorry I'm late."

Eliza's eyes fly wide. "You picked a day, didn't you, Donovan?" Eliza gestures toward the kitchen with a candle. I'll have to remember to ask later why there are two hooked together by one piece of string.

When I step into the kitchen, Eva has her tongue sticking out as she slaps labels on tiny jars while Eden murmurs to herself and fills the jars from a funnel of goo. Everyone is dripping in sweat. I stick my hands in my pocket and wait for one of them to see me. I don't want to interrupt anyone's rhythm.

Eventually, Eden looks up and sets down her goo funnel. "Oh sure, now you show up."

I stumble backward from the venom in her tone and nearly knock over a tower of labeled jars. "I tried to call," I tell her. "I had a work emergency."

Eden snorts and waves around the kitchen as Eva tries to sneak out of the room. " This is a work emergency. I was counting on your help today. Or did you forget you made a promise last night?"

"Eden…" I hold my palms up. "I texted you the property owner was flying in today at three. I'm sorry I didn't follow up again this morning, but I thought you would understand that work is a priority."

Eden shoves the goo funnel toward the sink. "You were the one who told me I never make myself a priority. You said that. I tried to do that just one time, and what happens? My mother shits on everything she touches, and you don't show up when you say you're going to."

I close my eyes and count to three before I respond. "You're upset. Can we get some ice water and some food in you?" I should have brought food, but I wanted to get here as soon as I could and barely stopped for red lights.

"Upset? Upset ?" Eden tugs at her hair and stomps her foot. "I had to throw out half the wax. It had fucking dirt in it and smelled like cigarettes. Do you know how much money I'm out because my mother didn't want to put herself on mute during a Zoom call?"

"Where is Emma?" I look around, confused about the order of events here, but Eden's in no place to explain.

"I made her leave," she shrieks. "I had to kick my own mother out of my house. Do you know what that feels like?"

Eliza pokes her head in from the dining room. "I bet it felt cathartic, Eden. You were amazing, babe."

"Shut up!" Eden closes her eyes and digs her fists into her temples. "Everyone just shut up. I can't think right now." She reaches for the funnel, like she's going to keep working. I can see she has a recipe or instructions or something all covered in stains on the table behind her. The mudroom is cluttered with bee frames and rubber bands, wood bits and chunks of wax splattering the floor. It looks exactly how I feel on the inside, and I wish I could tell this to Eden, but she's clearly not in a place to listen.

"Hey," I start. Her eyes whip in my direction. "I'm here now. If you give me marching orders, I can help you clean up."

She shakes her head and tears run down her cheeks, leaving little trails of clean through her dirt-streaked face. I take a step toward her. I can't fuck up my career and my relationship all in one day. But Eden stiffens and steps back away from me.

"I think you should go," she says.

"Let me help you, and we can talk."

Eliza and Eva poke their heads around the corner, and Eden practically growls at them. "Stay out of this."

They back away, hands up in a peace gesture. Eden is so obviously distraught, stressed to the max. I wish she'd let me help her. I take a step forward, but Eden's eyes flash with rage. "Everyone is telling me to set boundaries. Nobody but my sisters has ever shown up for me when it matters, and I am setting a boundary. You didn't show up when I needed you today, and I'm too fucked up to discuss it. This is why I can't have a relationship. I need to focus on my bees. Just go. Please."

I look at her one final time, taking in the gorgeous, capable, sweaty mess of her. There was never a world where she would end up with a construction worker who can't even handle a flip job without it going up in flames. I turn on my heel and leave like she asked.