I don’t make the rules, but I am grateful for them.

At any rate, I fully intend to head in first thing tomorrow to finish my railing. It’s not the nook’s fault I made poor decisions in my early twenties, and I refuse to allow one teeny, tiny damning article to derail me from my deadline. Heh. Furniture pun.

As for today, I have my pew. Thank you, Mr. Jenson, for your sentimentality and decades of sticky varnish. My fingers ache from the seven straight hours of precise effort exerted to sand it new. So much so, I can barely raise my middle one in righteous indignation. It’s been a healthy compromise.

“I’ll be honest. I was expecting Josh Groban.”

Cameron.

My heart can’t help but skip in my chest. Wonder if that will ever go away? Hasn’t in fifteen years, so I kind of doubt it.

“When I’m in my feelings, I like my country singers salty. It’s a side effect of being best friends with Lorelai.”

“This is Miranda Lambert, right?”

“She’s verrry salty,” I say, nodding. “All that angst with her ex.” I tilt my head, pretending to consider. “I wonder what that must feel like.”

Cameron snorts, making his way over to where I’m working, and squats down with a reverent intake of breath. “Shelby.”

“Cam,” I respond mildly.

“This is the pew?”

“The very same,” I say, pleased at the obvious approval in his gaze.

“It doesn’t even look the same. Well, no. It does. It just looks brand new is all.”

“She shined up real pretty,” I say, standing and taking in my work. “Turns out I had some elbow grease to spare this morning, so this was the perfect project. I think I want it in my foyer.”

“What’s this?” Cameron picks up a block of wood and shakes his head back and forth with a low whistle. “The scrollwork is…”

“Magnificent, isn’t it? I didn’t do it. That was all Mr. Jenson’s father. I was able to remove it without destroying the integrity of the pew.” I pick up the decorative slab of oak and place it on the top corner to show him. “They sat on either corner. I have a set, and I want to refurbish them for Mr. Jenson. They could be great bookends, but really, he can do whatever he likes with them. The attention to detail is phenomenal. Things just aren’t made like this anymore, and I think he would appreciate having a piece of his father’s work in his home.”

Cam rolls the wood in his hands, turning it this way and that, studying it. “I’m sure you’re right. He seemed pretty broken up about giving away the pew, insistent as he was.”