Sera had gone a nice shade of pink. “They like to think of themselves as entrepreneurs. Anyway, that’s why many started painting their porch ceilings blue. My aunt did it for the other reasons Southerners use this color. She swore it kept the wasps away. She said they would think it was more sky and not bother to stop here. They would keep flying.”
“Wouldn’t they notice the overhang?” Hallie asked, looking up. “I would think they’d try to fly up into the ceiling and get confused as to why the sky stopped there. I would be.”
He liked these women. They were fun. “Well, now they would think the sky is broken or maybe that the cracks in the paint are a wormhole or something,” he said. “But only if the wasp is good at astrophysics.”
Sera laughed, the sound magical to his ears. “I wouldn’t want to confuse the wasps.”
He stood beside her and looked up at the ceiling again. The color was quite beautiful, and he liked that there was tradition behind it. “I think I prefer the story about it keeping out ghosts. Maybe the ghost sees the color and thinks that’s the way to heaven. You know sometimes the sky isn’t as pretty as that color. It’s nice to have something beautiful to look at. Maybe it helps the ghosts find their way home.”
She was quiet for a moment and then she looked to him, a sheen of tears in her eyes. “I like that, too.” She sobered and he missed the emotion on her face. “I should get inside and get to work.”
He had to make a choice. His aunt wanted him to stay away from her, but she needed help. He wasn’t the type of man who refused to aid a person in need and he had the prosthesis to prove it. Just because he lent her some advice on a subject he was well versed in didn’t mean he would fall at her feet and beg her to date him. Even though his dog was already madly in love. “I’ll help you.”
She had her hand on the door. “Oh, I can make a list. It’s easy. It’s pretty much everything that needs fixing.”
Hallie clapped her hands as she made it to the top of the stairs. “Excellent. Oh, I feel so much better with Harry here.”
Sera looked at her friend. “I’m glad you do.”
“I don’t know, Sera, he might be useful,” Sylvie said. “And he said the dog would chase critters away. We have no idea what’s hiding in there.”
Shep’s tail thumped as though he was ready to jump into action.
Hallie’s hands went to her hips. “He’s an expert. I assure you Celeste Beaumont didn’t bring him in to touch that precious gazebo merely because he’s her nephew. He’s good and you need someone good.”
She shook her head. “No, I need someone cheap.”
He could help with that. “I’ll do it for free. I’m only consulting, after all.”
And refinishing those rockers. And maybe fixing the porch steps.
“I don’t need a consultant. I was going to call Herve down at the shop. He has a cousin who does home repairs,” Sera replied. “He can handle all the stuff I can’t. I’m making a list and then I’m going to fix all the stuff I can fix before I call him in.”
“You’re going to need to prioritize,” he explained. “Unless you have an unlimited budget.”
“That’s what I was saying. I’m going to figure out what I can fix myself and do all of that and then bring in the big guns.”
“The big guns being Herve from the auto shop’s cousin.” He wasn’t sure she’d thought this through, but then she’d only found out she owned this place earlier today. Still, she should understand that a project this big needed an experienced manager. “Have you ever met him? Is he a licensed contractor?”
She snorted, a sound that shouldn’t have been so cute. “It’s Southern Louisiana. We’re a town of six hundred people. No one is licensed.”
“You are,” Hallie pointed out. “You had to go through all sorts of hoops to be able to cut hair. Shouldn’t Herve’s cousin do the same to be able to fix your roof and make sure the house doesn’t fall down?”
“And no, he’s not a licensed contractor,” Sylvie added. “He’s not even really a contractor at all. Not like what you need. He’s a handyman. He does odd jobs when he needs beer money. You have a real contractor right in front of you.”
Sera pointed Harry’s way. “Well, he’s not even from Louisiana. I bet he doesn’t have a license, either.”
“I am a licensed contractor in Texas and Louisiana.” He didn’t mention he’d only gotten the one in Louisiana because his aunt had insisted and paved the way a little. He rather thought it was because she wanted to give him a reason to stay.