Cait and her father looked up as Mr. Johnson came jogging toward them. “They’re calling for dangerous lightning and high winds by five o’clock.”
“Well, Cait, it’s your project. What do you think we should do?”
Cait looked up at the still-blue sky and then at the men standing side by side. “We could work through lunch, but we’ve been on the job since seven this morning. I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. We need to refuel and hydrate so we don’t make a mistake.”
Her dad looked up at the sky and then over at Scott Johnson. “Why don’t I call my son-in-law and see if we can round up a few helpers? He should be getting out of school around two thirty.”
Cait felt relief wash over her. She knew it would be close framing and sheathing before the storm hit; help would ensure that they’d get it shingled as well. “You can’t rush perfection,” she said to Mr. Johnson. “My dad’s got a good plan, and it won’t increase the price. Once a Mulcahy gives his word—” she began.
“He keeps it,” Mr. Johnson finished for her, nodding to her first and her father second. “Go for it. I’ll keep an eye on the storm and bring you updates.”
While she unpacked their lunch boxes, her father shot off a text to Dan. As she was pouring hot coffee out of the thermos, her father grunted and held out his cup. “He’ll be here by quarter of three with two helpers.”
Cait grinned. “Let me guess, Charlie Doyle and Tommy Hawkins?”
Her father held out a cup for her to fill. “Those boys have more than made up for their stupidity, hanging out on that damned railroad bridge.”
“Dan was there to save them, Pop.”
“It was meant, Cait,” he said quietly. “Dan Eagan was supposed to come to Apple Grove, meet your sister, fall in love, and save those two boys. Wonder what else fate has planned for him?”
Cait laughed. “A little girl just like Meg?”
Joe joined in the laughter and said, “You have an evil streak in you, Cait.”
“I wonder where I get that from?”
They were both laughing as Cait cleaned up the garbage and downed the rest of her coffee.
Joe was still smiling as they measured and cut boards for the roof rafters. They were nailing them into place when they heard a car drive up.
“Hey, Joe!” Dan called out as he got out of his car. “Brought help with me.”
Cait watched the way her dad pulled Dan in for a bear hug and felt tears sting her eyes. She sensed he’d be as welcoming to Jack.
“No time for lollygagging around, Caitlin,” her father rumbled. “Come on down here and help me get these boys started working.”
She grinned. “Coming.” Climbing down the ladder, she looked up at her father. “How about if we break down into two teams?”
He nodded. “Ever shingle a roof, Dan?”
“Not yet. I figured I’d be learning how today.”
“Good answer,” Cait said with a smile. “How about you boys?”
Charlie grinned. “Helped Dad patch up the hole in the garage roof after uh…” His voice trailed off and he looked at his buddy.
“What did you and Tommy do to put a hole in the roof?”
Tommy grinned at her, and said, “It was the hammer throw.”
Dan started laughing. “Seriously?”
“Yeah,” Charlie told him. “We were in eighth grade and wanted to see if we could throw a hammer like on the track team.”
“You do realize that they don’t actually throw a hammer, don’t you?” Dan asked.
“Not at the time,” Tommy admitted.
Joe was shaking his head. “Did you use a claw hammer?”
“Nah,” Tommy said. “We got one of my dad’s sledge hammers.”
“Brilliant.” Dan laughed.
“We were pretty good,” Charlie said, “until Tommy got creative with a toss and the hammer ended up going through the roof.”
Caitlin was chuckling when she told them, “All right, Dan, you and Pop can work on measuring and cutting the sheathing for the roof. If we start there, the boys and I can get it shingled while you do the sheathing for the walls.”
“You got it.”
As they worked, she was pleased to find out that Charlie and Tommy really did know how to shingle. She set them to work, starting with the tar paper. She’d learned the hard way as a kid that you shingled from the bottom to the top. Peggy’s dad had spent a lot of time muttering, watching Cait and Peggy tear the shingles off Peggy’s doghouse when they’d started from the peak and worked their way down. She and Peggy had been in seventh or eighth grade at the time.