Fruit of Labour
“Here you are sir.” said the woman in the business suit, “It is all yours.”
Jake took the keys and opened the half-rotten wooden gate. There before him, at the end of a rutted track in the middle of field was the house, no, strike that, shack that he had just bought. He walked up the path and stepped up onto the porch. There were missing planks on the floor, glass was missing from the windows and he could hear wind passing through holes in the roof. This was a prime example of what the agent called “A fixer upper”.
It took Jake the better part of a year to turn this decaying corpse of a house into a home he would be proud to call his own. He had to gut most of the decorative elements, re-tile the roof, redo the electrics and plumb in a heating system. Choosing the right decor was something of a chore but in the end he felt that going with his gut was the best decision. If he didn’t feel right with anything he would pull it all out and start again. In the end these, unscheduled delays must have added over a month to the project. Jake did not care, he intended to live there for the rest of his life.
After everything was finished according to his exacting standards, Jake was a barrel of nerves as he waited at the freshly painted gate. Any minute, Susan was going to drive up so Jake could show her what he had been doing with all his time that last year.
He was going to show her this house that he had built for them both. A house that he had never said a word about because as his father said “Deeds speak louder than words.”
If he knew Susan like he thought he did, words would not be needed, she would understand what he meant by all this. If she didn’t…… Well… the ring in his pocket would have been a waste of money.
He could hear an engine in the distance, she was almost there.
Time to see if his labour was going to bear fruit.