Joan is offered and accepts the job to paint the Ryan Inn. A new confidence builds within her as her life finally starts coming together

Chapter 8

Love And Memories

It almost seemed silly driving over to the Ryan Inn. It was only four blocks away and a block closer to the beach. The windows on the ground floor were boarded up. We parked the car in the tiny lot in back. The lot looked like it held about fifteen cars and its state of disrepair matched the surroundings. I shook my head from side to side as I opened my door and almost tripped over a few weeds forcing their way through the bits of crumbling macadam.

What had once been a majestic old building now looked more like a haunted house than anything else. Sam shook his head from side to side and asked just what the hell we were doing there. I began wondering the same thing myself. The exterior of the building suggested that the kindest thing anyone could do for it would be to bring in the bulldozers. Mom and Aunt Mel followed us as we made our way to the front door. I found myself feeling bad for the building. How could anyone allow it to fall into such a state of disrepair?

Mom began regaling us with stories of her first visit to the Ryan Inn. Apparently she and my father stayed there when they were shopping for our current home. She smiled sadly as we made our way inside. We strolled through the area which had once housed a very modest eatery and up to the section that had once served as the front desk. It didn’t look like anyone had been inside in years. I was surprised to find that the electricity actually worked.

I turned on every light in the house and began examining the ground floor. First up, a small dining area with seating for about twenty five. A compact kitchen with the bare necessities. The check-in area and two guest rooms with baths completed the first floor. The second and third floors had six rooms each with two communal baths on each floor. The original plan had been to provide affordable vacation space for those in need. In this area in the high-season such places were scarce.

My mind drew a blank as I attempted to come up with some kind of reasonable estimate. The amount of work required was staggering. There was sanding that needed to be done, holes in need of spackle, and walls that needed a coat of primer-sealer before a top coat of paint could be applied. My mind was in a whirl as I attempted to do the calculations. A best guess had me thinking in the three thousand dollar range. And, that was for the inside alone. The exterior of the building was also in need of some serious paint. In fact, the exterior was in more immediate need of attention than the interior. I began doing more calculations in my notebook. Paint would just be the beginning of what this building needed.

Some of the ceilings on the third floor were in need of serious repair. I wasn’t sure whether they were even repairable. I hoped that the new owners knew what the hell they were doing. Hell, I wasn’t a building contractor. Just a kid who knew how to paint a room efficiently. Still, being in charge of this renovation sent my blood surging. That would be another question for Mr. Hospin. Who would I have to answer to with regard to the overall work? Were the owners themselves in charge, or had they hired a general contractor to run things for them?

I had absolutely no idea how much to charge for exterior painting. I didn’t have the ladders and other equipment that would be required to do such a job. I wanted to do it all. Well, all of the painting at least. I had no idea just how much it would cost to refurbish the building, but if I had to guess it would probably be somewhere around a hundred thousand dollars worth of work. That is, if the money was spent frugally. The hours I’d spent watching "This Old House" might just pay off I thought and laughed to myself.

Mom and Aunt Melissa remained quiet as I surveyed the rest of the building. The job did seem a bit overwhelming. I began to wonder if Sam would be interested in helping out. There was only one way to find out.

"Sam, would you like a job?" He looked at me like I’d lost my tenuous grip on reality. "Sam, I can do this job, but I’m going to need some help. Are you up for earning some real money?" I asked again. He didn’t know how to respond. My last statement was enough of a challenge that I could tell he was weakening.

"Joan, there’s only two weeks left before school starts," he began. "There’s an awful lot of work here to be done."

"I agree. That’s why we need to get started now." He smiled at me and hugged me tight. He told me that if I was sure I wanted to tackle such a project that he’d help in any way he could. He also told me that he wanted to be paid. I laughed at his mention of money. I’d worry about how to divvy up the profits if and when there were any. Still, I did promise him eight dollars an hour for his time. This was to be my folly. If anyone got hurt here (financially) it was going to be me.

On further examination of the property we discovered a small cellar. It contained the central heating unit, water heaters, and enough ladders and other equipment to provide what would be needed to do the job. If only I knew how to figure out an estimate for the exterior of the building. I really did want to do it all.. Maybe Mr. Hospin would give me a day to actually work on the building before providing him with a price. I laughed aloud at my own thoughts. Still, he knew that I wouldn’t overcharge for the work and maybe we could figure it out somehow.

"Mom, Aunt Mel, do you guys have any ideas about colors for this place?" I asked generously.

"It’s your job Joan, just be sure not to choose anything too bold. I’d stick with some nice pastels and vary the colors enough to give each room an individual atmosphere of its own." I liked Mom’s decorating ideas. I’d actually been thinking along the same lines myself. This wasn’t just going to be a job. This was going to be fun. In on the ground floor, so to speak. Still, I had no idea where to begin.

We locked the front door, got back in the car, and took the longest four block drive in history. I thought I’d do a web search and try to figure out just how much to charge for the exterior painting. There were plenty of sites available, but none that would help me specifically. Finally, I decided that my best bet would be to go back and talk to Mr. Hospin directly. He wouldn’t steer me wrong. I left the others at the kitchen table and pedaled my way to the store.

"Joan! You’re back already," he said with a smile on his face. "So, what did you think of the place? Is it a job you’d be interested in?" My smile matched his own except mine was tainted with a touch of perplexity.

"Mr. Hospin, it looks like a challenge I’d be more than happy to attempt. To be honest though, I haven’t a clue with regards to an estimate. This is no simple ‘room painting’ job." He laughed loud and long at my characterization of the building.

"Yes, it’s a building in need of a lot of tender loving care, but do you see the possibilities? Do you get the feeling that taking this on would be more than just a mere paint job? Does the prospect of taking it on light a fire within you?" He’d never spoken to me this way before. I found myself wanting to say "yes" to each and every one of his pronouncements. My skepticism and what little wisdom I’d acquired along the way allowed me to keep my feet on the floor, my mouth closed, and the cards I was playing from being revealed.

He seemed to know exactly what I was doing. Despite my best efforts he knew that I wanted the job. "Joan, I can tell you want this job. I also know that you’d be heartbroken if someone else walked away with the contract."

"But, Mr. Hospin," I countered, "the exterior of the building is in more desperate need of paint than the interior! How can I possibly come up with an estimate? I’m simply out of my depth."

"Joan, I have a very personal relationship with the new owners. They’ve actually seen some of your work and requested you specifically. They’re aware of your age and inexperience. When they came in asking about you, I told them it was probably beyond your capabilities. Not that I don’t have faith in you, I do! It’s just that this is the kind of job that generally goes to a professional contractor with a serious crew and lots of equipment. They went on to inform me that they’d obtained several estimates from such contractors and that they simply couldn’t afford them. So you see, they need you as much as you need them."

I stood there still wanting the job. I wasn’t the least upset by Mr. H’s revelation to me. Was I biting off more than I could chew? I began shaking my head from side to side and he read it wrong. "You don’t want the job?" he asked incredulously.

I realized that he’d misread my facial expressions. "Mr. Hospin, there’s no assignment that I’d rather have. I know this sounds crazy, but do you think they’d hire me on faith? I simply can’t provide you with even a guesstimate as to the overall cost.." My eyes revealed hopelessness and bewilderment. He studied my face carefully and thought for a few minutes before continuing.

"Do you have any ideas about the exterior color that you’d choose?" he asked when he finally deigned to speak. My heart leapt with joy as I realized that somehow, this was going to work. His head nodded appreciatively as I made my suggestions. He seemed impressed that I was taking the overall look of the neighborhood into consideration with regards to my proposed color scheme. He went on to tell me that the job was indeed mine if I wanted it. He also told me not to worry about the cost. We’d work that out later.

I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but I was so anxious to get that contract that I’d have considered doing it for free. I wasn’t sure why it had become so important to me. My best guess would have been the pride that I’d feel each time I walked past that building knowing that I’d played a major part in its renovation. Mr. Hospin told me to keep the key, to come back with my mother’s car and he’d give me enough paint to keep me busy for awhile. We said our goodbyes and I flew home.

"Mom! I got the job!" I screamed as I ran in the front door. Shandy began barking and running in circles as I sidestepped her and made my way into the kitchen. Sure, I liked painting rooms, but this was something else entirely. The three of them were still seated at the kitchen table.

"Well Sam, are you ready to go to work?" I asked him laughingly. I figured that getting him involved with something like this would take his mind off of baseball. There was a lot he could do without putting the twins at risk. All of the high ladder work would be mine.

"For eight dollars an hour, I’m ready," he said and laughed.

"Done!" I replied and hugged him fiercely. I’m not really sure why I said what I did next, but I was glad that I did. "So, Aunt Melissa, does this mean you’re going to be staying with us for awhile?" Other than asking her if she’d be staying, I wasn’t really sure what I meant. Weird!

"Are you offering me a job then, Joan?" she asked and began laughing herself. I’d never considered doing that, but it made perfect sense. The more the merrier!

"Eight dollars an hour good enough for you?" I asked her and it was my turn to laugh.

"Errr, no," she replied, "but we’ll talk about that later."

This was really going to happen! I was so excited I was about to burst. Mom sat at the table quietly sipping her coffee. Her eyes danced about as we began discussing the upcoming project.

"Mom, we need to get down to Hospin’s to pick up enough paint to get started."

"Shouldn’t you be asking your employee to help you?" she said and laughed. I turned to Aunt Melissa and looked at her expectantly.

"Come on kiddo, let’s go pick up some paint," she said and rose from the table. Mom and Sam remained sitting at the table as we made our exit. I wanted to ask Sam to come, but I figured it would be best if he stayed behind and kept Mom company.

"You know, I’m a bit of a painter myself," she said as we began making the trip.

"Maybe it’s in the blood then," I said without seeking further explanation.

She laughed aloud before continuing. "Well Joan, all the painting I’ve done up to this point in my life has been on canvas. Still, I haven’t done that in years either. Maybe it’s time I purchased some supplies and started in again."

We arrived back at Hospin’s and I introduced Aunt Melissa to Mr. Hospin. They seemed to know each other already, but I put that off as being due to an over active imagination. We loaded ten gallons of "sky blue" into the trunk of Mom’s car. I selected some fine bristle brushes and some scraping tools as well. Before long we were back on our way to the Ryan Inn. I didn’t have to ask Aunt Mel for help as we began unloading the car.

Suddenly the building seemed full of potential. I saw beyond the cracked paint and washed out walls. In my mind’s eye I saw the building as it once had been and how it would be again. I felt like a kid on Christmas morning and began running through the house shouting inanities at the top of my lungs. Aunt Melissa finally reigned me in and told me it was time to go home. Someone had to make dinner and she could just tell that I wasn’t up to the task.

I locked the place up and we made our way back to the Johnson residence. Aunt Melissa started right in on dinner preparations. It seemed to be a new beginning for all of us. Sam had gone home to take a nap. I didn’t begrudge him his need for sleep. I gave my apologies to Aunt Mel and told her I’d be back for dinner. She laughed at that and asked me if she was still on the clock.

Though there were signs of improvement at the Peters’ home, things still weren’t up to par. Sam had taken to putting his dirty clothes in the hamper, so that was something at least. I gathered up a load of laundry put it in the machine, then made my way back up to our bedroom. I watched him sleeping peacefully for a few moments and then crawled in bed beside him. It was my turn to hug him protectively and possessively. I did and soon fell asleep with my arm wrapped around his shoulder.

That evening, after dinner I began laying out the ground rules for the remainder of the week. Sam seemed a bit irked that I wasn’t going to allow him near any ladders. I attempted to avoid the issue entirely, but he kept bringing it up till all I could do was put my foot down firmly and tell him, no!

We made love for a long time before finally drifting off to sleep. I smiled in amazement as I realized that a good deal of my happiness had to do with tomorrow’s project. Sleep was blissful. Tuesday morning arrived and I was out of bed with the sunrise. Sam, as usual, was dead to the world. I kissed him gently on the forehead and made myself ready for the day. A bit of silent cleaning up around the first floor and I was off to see if Aunt Melissa was up yet and ready to go.

She greeted me at the front door with a smile and a hug. I was then ushered into the kitchen where breakfast was in progress. "With all of the work ahead of you today, you’d better eat a hearty breakfast, Missy," she said and smiled. I appreciated the food and the smile, but I would have appreciated it more if she’d said "us" instead of "you." It was closing in on eight o’clock and I knew that too much of the day would be wasted if I waited for Sam. I sat at our kitchen table and wrote him a note telling him that Aunt Melissa and I were headed off to the Inn and he could find us there when he was ready for work.

By eight thirty we had the extension ladders out in front of the building, and we were ready to go. I asked Auntie M how she wanted to proceed and she simply smiled at me and told me I was the boss. I decided it would be best if we tackled the job one side at a time. We started at opposite ends of the building. I felt somewhat nervous standing on top of the ladder, thirty plus feet above the ground. Aunt Melissa scaled it as if she’d been doing it all her life. I followed her lead and forgot about the distance to the ground.

The painting went faster than I expected. The oil based paint that Mr. Hospin recommended gave much better coverage than the latex paints I was used to. While Auntie M had no fear of being up on a ladder, she was a bit on the slow side with regard to painting. I put any thoughts of recriminations aside and concentrated on the task in front of me.

Noon time rolled around and Sam showed up with an apology and lunch in hand. Cleanup was a lot more difficult as I prepared to eat my sandwich. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t remove the smell of turpentine from my skin. I finally gave up and ate my sandwich. After lunch the three of us started back in. I relented and let Sam use a small step ladder so that he could paint at least one of the three floors. It only took a few minutes before he decided that he was going to start on another side of the building. He didn’t like being spattered with bits of paint from above.

The work day ended and the clean up process began all over again. I decided to stop at the drug store on the way home and pick up some disposable surgical gloves. Clean up with the oil based paint was simply a bitch. I knew neither Aunt Melissa nor myself was in any shape to prepare dinner. I figured we’d simply order a pizza when we arrived home.

It was seven o’clock when we walked through the front door. Mom and Aunt Alice had the dining room table all set and dinner waiting. The three of us were given a heroes’ welcome. I gave them both hugs and thanked them for taking the time to put this all together. Mom laughed and told me not to thank her too soon. There was tons of cleanup to do and I was scheduled to do it at dinner’s end.

We spent the mealtime talking about the old Inn and how lucky the new owners were to have it. Aunt Mel and I managed to get quite a bit of painting done and I reasoned that by end of business tomorrow, the front of the building would be finished. It had already taken on a new sparkle and sheen in my mind’s eye. My arms were feeling heavy. It got to the point where I was having a hard time lifting my fork up to my mouth. I laughed aloud at the absurdity of it all.

Sam and Aunt Melissa looked worse than I did. I insisted they remain seated as I began the cleanup procedure. Everything put away and I was ready to collapse from total exhaustion. Sam seemed happy to sit there for awhile. The ladies had adjourned to the backyard to smoke and drink some tea. I didn’t even have to ask them not to smoke inside in Sam’s presence. I began to wonder whether Mom had smoked when she was pregnant with me. It didn’t matter at this point, and put such thoughts away.

I told Aunt Mel that I’d be back at seven thirty tomorrow morning and bade them all goodnight. I left Sam playing with Shandy in the backyard. I made my way back to Chez Peters and got ready for bed. With Josam clutched tightly in my arms I fell asleep.

The morning was quick in coming. It seemed I no longer needed an alarm clock to assist me in waking up. I got dressed and walked over to greet Shandy and Aunt Melissa. She asked me if I was up for another day of fun and games. I smiled at her and told her that I couldn’t wait to get started. As we’d done yesterday, we made the short walk to the Inn. By eight thirty we were well under way. The work began to go more smoothly. We soon fell into a comfortable routine. As he’d done yesterday Sam arrived with lunch right around noon.

By day’s end the front of the building was finished. Sam despite only working limited hours had done half of the building’s first floor. I reasoned that if we worked through the weekend that we’d be able to finish the main painting by late Sunday. We locked everything inside and made the short walk home. The surgical gloves made cleanup a lot easier. I felt better about the job with each passing day.

We were treated to dinner by Aunt Alice that evening. No, she didn’t cook, but she had a ton of chinese food to choose from when we all sat down to dinner. I smiled happily as I realized that the Johnson house was the meeting place of choice. With dinner completed and the cleanup done, I decided it was time to give Darla a call. Yes, I was tired in the evenings and odds were that I would be for the foreseeable future. Still, I wasn’t going to let the band slip through my fingers.

We made plans, reluctantly on my part, to have a practice session on late Saturday afternoon. Darla wanted to have it earlier, but I was determined to make as much of the summer vacation as I could. I figured that Aunt Mel and I could work till early afternoon and Sam could have the day off to do whatever he wanted.

The rest of the work week simply slipped away. Saturday came and we made an early start. Aunt Melissa and I wrapped up painting for the day right around one o’clock. I was kind of tired, but I was anxious to strap a guitar onto my shoulder and get down to a serious practice session.

I was distressed to hear from Aunt Alice that Sam had gone to watch the Waves play that afternoon. I wasn’t so sure that it was a good idea. Still, to simply remove himself with no further contact with his friends would have been too cruel. I only hoped he didn’t start in again on his desire to play. I decided not to worry about Sam for the rest of the afternoon, went to clean myself up, gathered up my Martin in my soft shell case, slung it over my shoulder and made my way to Darla’s.

It was a lot easier for me to practice at Darla’s then it was to make the trek to Fred’s. I could tell that Aunt Vivian was happier with this arrangement as well. I walked down into the basement and it seemed the two of them had been busy. I recognized a lot of Fred’s equipment all set up in performance fashion. I got myself set up when Darla put a song on the stereo.

I quickly recognized O.A.R.’s "Love and Memories." It was a pretty song and totally suited for Fred’s voice. The three of us harmonized perfectly together. It felt good to work on something from the twenty-first century. It didn’t take us too long to nail it down. After two hours of serious practice on the tune, we went over the Fleetwood Mac stuff and rehearsed our 1-4-5 progression songs for the rest of the afternoon. By the time we were done, we had over an hour’s worth of material ready.

"So, are you ready for that battle of the bands contest, Joan?" Fred asked me. I thought back to performing at Melissa’s wedding. I was indeed ready for the rush of performing live in front of an audience again. "It’s two weeks from tonight, by the way." I smiled at him confidently in answer. I didn’t need two weeks. I was ready to go right now and told him so. He laughed at my reply and told me he appreciated my attitude.

We took a break and I sat there feeling a bit awkward as Fred sat across from me with his arm wrapped around Darla’s shoulder and continued to talk nonchalantly about our upcoming performance. Finally, we called it a day and made plans to practice again in the middle of the week. I left them in close embrace and made my way home. ‘Home,’ I thought…finally!