A Taste of Texas

Weeks wore on. Long days and oppressive summer heat replaced the cold mornings and mild afternoons of spring. Towering oaks and poplars shaded the lush vegetation that grew along the banks of the brooks and streams flowing through Clifton. Millions of tiny creatures croaked and chirped around us, going about the daily routines of their dangerous lives as we carpenters worked hard to overcome the struggles of our complex and tangled existence.

I had learned a lot during my first few months studying carpentry in Virginia, but it was time I showed the good folks up north that Texans also know a thing or two.

---

A Taste of Texas

One late September afternoon, I met Clint in front of a retired couple's home near Allandale. We walked down a hill to the back of their remarkable tree-covered home to the location of a proposed deck. Robert had already dug the holes for the footings the day before, and the materials were stacked neatly on site. While Clint and I discussed the job details, the homeowners emerged from a sliding glass door that opened onto a small landing with stairs leading to the ground. Our job was to replace the existing means of egress with a new deck and stairs.

"Matt, I would like you to meet Mr. & Mrs. Johnson," Clint said as they approached us.
"It is a pleasure to meet you both," I said.
"See, I told you," Mrs. Johnson whispered in her husband's ear while smiling at me. "We heard you were from Texas, Matt."
"That's right," I said. "The Friendly State. I moved here a few months ago."
"We are from Texas too," Mrs. Johnson said, "but we have lived in Virginia for a long time. My husband landed a job as an engineer for the government nearly thirty years ago."
"What is it they say?" I said. "You can take the man out of Texas, but you can't take Texas out of the man...something like that, anyway."
"I believe that's true," Mr. Johnson said, smiling. Mrs. Johnson nodded.
"I'll start working on your new deck tomorrow morning. Is 7 O'clock too early?"
"Not at all. You can start whenever you want," Mr. Johnson said. "we wake up the roosters at our house."
"You be sure and let us know if you need anything, anything at all," Mrs. Johnson added.
"Thank you, Ma'am."
I gave the Johnsons a final wave goodbye as Clint and I hiked back up the hill to our trucks.
"I think the Johnsons genuinely like you, Matt," Clint said. "They don't even know you. I'm confused."
"That was just a taste of Texas, Clint," I said, smiling.

The next day, I arrived to discover that I would be working alone, so I began framing the deck by myself, as I had done many times before on other deck projects.

I began by removing the old landing and stairs. After clearing the debris, I attached a 20-foot-long triple 2x10 beam (built in place) to the home's foundation with concrete anchors and carriage bolts, supported by 6x6 pressure-treated posts that extended into the holes Robert dug for the concrete footings. Robert's holes were spot on; every hole was exactly where it should be. If they had been off, I would have had to spend valuable time re-digging them. Whether he realizes it or not, Robert cares about quality work.

After lunch, I built and temporarily supported the perimeter frame and installed all the joists to complete the framing of the 20 ' x 15' deck. Before leaving for the day, I installed all the decking I had, but it was only enough for about two-thirds of the deck.
I knocked on the Johnsons' back door to ask if I could borrow their phone to call the office. Mrs. Johnson answered.

"Hi Matt, I saw you working hard and didn't want to bother you. Are you working solo today?"
"Yes, I think Robert was supposed to be here, but they probably deployed him to another job."
"Well, it doesn't look like you need much help anyway. It looks to me like you could build this whole deck by yourself," Mrs. Johnson said.
"Probably," I said with a smile. "I have built lots of decks by myself."
"Can I get you something? Some sweet tea, perhaps?"
"Thank you, Mrs. Johnson. I am fine, but I wanted to let Clint know that we don't have enough decking material. Would it be okay if I used your telephone?"
"Sure, Matt," Mrs. Johnson said. "Here you go."

She handed me her cordless telephone and went back inside.

***

I dialed the office; a voice I didn't recognize answered.

"Wells and Sons Builders, this is Tracey. How can I help you?"
[Tracey? What happened to Melissa?]
"Uh...Tracey?...Uh, this is Matt. Is Clint around?"
"Everyone is gone for the day, Matt," Tracey said. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"No. I just need to talk to Clint about ordering some materials for the Johnson deck project. I'll just call him in the morning. No big deal."
"Okay, Matt. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Bye-bye."

The next day, I arrived at the Johnson residence to find Robert sitting in his truck, sipping coffee from his thermos.

"Hey Robert, are we working together today?"
"Yeah," Robert said, "but it don't look like you need much help. You already got the deck framed."
"Help is always welcome," I said, "Besides, I can use the company. By the way, your footing holes were perfect."
Robert smiled.
"I need to call Clint and have him order the rest of the decking. While we wait for it to arrive, we can cut the stringers for the stairs and build the form for the concrete landing."

I borrowed Mrs. Johnson's phone again and dialed the office.
"Wells and Sons builders, this is Tracey. How can I help you?"
"Good morning, Tracey, is Clint around?"
"Hi, Matt! He is here, hang on," Tracey said.
After chatting with Clint for a few minutes about building materials, he said, "Here's Tracey."
[Why did he hand the telephone back to Tracey?]
"Hi again, Matt. Clint said you are from Texas. How long did you live there?"
"All my life. I just moved to Virginia a few months ago. What about you?"
"I have always lived in Virginia with my parents. Do you ever come to the office?"
"I usually don't have much reason to. I am always on a job somewhere, but I will come by soon so we can meet in person."
"I would like that."

After we got off the telephone, I thought about the sweet sound of her voice. Don't get your hopes up, Matt. She probably weighs 500 pounds and only has three remaining teeth. Hell, she might even be married with seven kids!

"Hey, Robert, have you met Bob's new secretary?"
"Tracey?"
"Yeah, what is she like?"
"She fine, Man."
"Really? You're not bullshitting me are you?"
"No, she is very pretty, and single."
"Is she a big ole gal with missing teeth?"
"No, Man, go see for yourself. You will like her."
I suddenly felt like my workmates were playing matchmaker.

That night, at Jack and Sue's house (I suppose it was my house, too, since I had been living there for several months), Clint called (he never calls) and asked me to stop by the office tomorrow afternoon.

"I'm not sure I can make it, Clint. I will be working in Allendale at the Johnson's house."
"We need you to come in, Matt. That deck ain't going anywhere. Besides, you are ahead of schedule," Clint said.
"Okay, I will see you tomorrow."
I could see what was happening, but I wasn't complaining.

When I arrived at the Johnson house in the morning, I was surprised to find a fancy serving cart parked on the surface of the new deck. Mrs. Johnson must have decided it was time to start breaking it in. There was a shiny pitcher of hot coffee with a tray of cups, creamers, sugar, stirring spoons, and napkins. Next to the coffee makings, there was a round silver platter with assorted pastries beneath a clear glass cover. Mrs. Johnson's cordless telephone was also on the cart.

When she saw me, she came out and told me that Clint wanted me to call the office after 8 o'clock. Why not 7 o'clock, when Clint starts his day? 8 o'clock is when Tracey starts her day. Mrs. Johnson might be involved in this matchmaking scheme.

"Thanks, Mrs. Johnson. I will be sure to call. Did they say what they wanted?"
"No," she said.
"Why are you smiling?" I said. "Do I have something stuck between my teeth?"
"No," she chuckled. "They just wanted you to call."
"Are these refreshments for Robert and me?"
"Yes. They sure are. Let me know if you run out of coffee or rolls; I have plenty more in the kitchen."
"You are too kind, Mrs. Johnson. Thank you."
"Mr. Johnson and I love your craftsmanship, Matt. Our new deck is better than we could have imagined."
"Thank you very much, Mrs. Johnson," I said, "but I also had help from Robert."
"I know you did, Matt, but your expertise made things come together. When the job is over, I am going to cook you and Robert a big ole steak."
"You don't have to do that. Robert and I are just doing our jobs."
"Nonsense! I plan to cook you boys a steak, and that is that."
"I guess I can't say no."
"No, you sure can't, Matt. When do you think you will finish?"
"We have a concrete truck coming on Friday for the footings and landing for the stairs. We will be finished after that. There are forms to be removed on Monday, but Clint will likely send a helper to perform that task."
"Okay, Friday it is. You and Robert will have dinner with Mr. Johnson and me. Don't make any other plans."
"That sounds good, but Robert and I will likely be awfully rank after working with concrete all day."
"I don't care about that. You tell Robert to be ready for a delicious meal."
"Okay," I said. "By the way, I must quit early today and go into the office."
"That's fine, Matt. I know," she said. She ducked into her house before I could respond. Funny, I detected a bit of a snicker as she fled the scene.

Around 3, I packed up my tools and headed to the office. I was nervous but didn't know why. I had yet to meet Tracey. Maybe I won't even like her.

***

I arrived at the office around 3:30 and hiked up the stairs to the glass door in front of the reception desk. Robert was right - she was a lovely blonde with bright blue eyes and a sweet smile. Having never met her in person, she didn't recognize me.

"Good afternoon," she said. "How can I help you?"
"I am here to see Clint," I said with a smile.
"Are you Matt?" she asked softly (probably recognizing my voice from our brief phone conversations).
"Yes, and you must be Tracey. It is good to see you, finally."
"I am happy to see you too; you are cute, just like your voice," she said nervously.
I smiled. The initial attraction seemed mutual.

Clint walked out of Bob's office and asked me to take a box of nails to Chris, one of the carpenters on the Rosenberg job. He told Tracey to go with me so that I could show her an example of one of our projects. She agreed without hesitation and grabbed her purse.

"The box of nails is in the back of my truck. Don't forget them when you leave," Clint said with a sneery smile, suggesting that I might be too preoccupied with Tracey to give a rat's ass about a stinking box of nails.
"I won't forget, Clint," I said facetiously.
"Oh, by the way," Clint said. "The Miller deck project is a go for Monday. You will lead a new team of carpenters from Front Royal. They will meet you at the Miller residence at 8:00 in the morning."
"That's terrific news, Clint! I have been looking forward to this project for a long time!"

Tracey and I climbed into my truck and headed to the Rosenberg project. There was a short silence as we drove down the winding two-lane road.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" Tracey asked.
"We broke up five months ago when I left Texas; I'm pretty sure she found someone else since then."
Tracey looked pleased.
"What about you?" I asked.
"No, I don't have a girlfriend either," she said, trying to be funny.
"Okay, silly, let me rephrase; do you have a boyfriend?"
"I have had a relationship for a long time, but I haven't seen him in four months, since he went off to college in Roanoke. I think it is over between us."
"Good," I said.
"Oh, does that make you happy?" she asked.
"Maybe," I replied.
She smiled.
"Is the Miller job close to the office?" Tracey asked.
"Very close," I said.
She looked as pleased as I felt.

We arrived at the Rosenberg residence and found Chris, a young, clean-cut carpenter with red hair, mindfully measuring an extra-long fascia board stretched across three sawhorses.

"Are you Chris?" I asked.
"Yes, how can I help you?"
"Well, my name is Matt, and this is Tracey. Like you, we work for Wells and Sons Builders. I am the new receptionist and Tracey is one of Bob's lead carpenters. She has a box of nails for you."
"Shut up, Matt," Tracey said, giggling. "He is being silly, Chris."
"I knew better," Chris said. "You are too pretty to be a carpenter, and Matt is too ugly to be a receptionist."
"I think I'm going to like you, Chris," I said. "As you probably already know, Tracey is new to the company. Clint wanted me to show her one of our jobs so she could see the kind of work we do."
"Sure. I will show you two what I have been working on."

Chris was building a pool house addition with a small deck around an existing pool. He had just finished framing the pool house and was working on the deck frame. Chris was proud of his work and was okay with bending our ears until sunset. I could tell Chris liked Tracey - he wouldn't have spent so much time talking if it had only been me.

"Thanks for the overview, Chris. Tracey and I have to be getting back to the office."
"No problem at all," Chris said. "I am sure I will see you two soon."
"Bye, Chris," Tracey said with a flirtatious smile.

Tracey and I drove back to the office. From the parking lot, we could see that the office lights were off - Bob and Clint had left for the day. I parked my truck next to Tracey's car, thinking she might say a quick goodbye, hop in her car, and head down the road, but she didn't.

"Do you want to talk for a while?" she asked.
"Sure," I said and turned off the engine.
We sat in the tiny cab of my pickup and shared stories and held hands until nearly 11 p.m., nervously anticipating a magical goodnight kiss.
"See you tomorrow, Matt?" Tracey asked, gleaming. "Will you be coming by the office?"
"I'll try to figure out an excuse to swing by," I said.

Tracey got in her car, gave a brief toodle-oo-style wave, and drove to her home in Centreville while I headed off to Woodbridge. Something good is happening here, I thought as I drove home in the darkness.

A Steak Dinner

The next day, I met Robert at the Johnson residence to finish building the wooden forms for the deck footings and stair landing and pour the concrete. When the concrete truck arrived, Robert and I used two wheelbarrows to tote the concrete from the truck parked in the street on the top of the hill to the backyard deck. It was a workout that both Robert and I would forever remember. Wet concrete waits for nobody. We worked until there was no more concrete to pour.

Mrs. Johnson poked her head out the back door and asked when we would be ready for dinner.

"We are finished for the day, Mrs. J, but as I warned you, concrete is a filthy business," I said.
"Fiddlesticks! You fellows come on in when you are ready," Mrs. Johnson commanded. "You can freshen up in our powder room."
"Okay, Mrs. Johnson, we'll be in in a minute."
Robert looked at me and shook his head.
"She said she didn't care, Robert. Let's eat. How often does someone offer you a fine meal?"
"Okay, Matt," Robert said reluctantly.

We met Mrs. Johnson at the back door from the deck we had just built; she directed us toward a spotless washroom with white gold-trimmed cabinets and marble tile. There was a free-standing oval wash basin, also white, with fancy gold-colored fixtures. The expensive soap she provided still had a rose emblem embossed on the surface. And the thick white monogrammed towels hanging on ornate towel racks looked brand new.

"No matter how long we wash our hands, these towels aren't going to look the same," Robert said.
"I know, Robert, let's just go with it. Mrs. Johnson knows what she's doing. I gave her fair warning," I said.

After washing up, Mrs. Johnson guided us through an exquisite living room with white carpet and fine furnishings. We passed a stately grandfather clock in a hallway and a white baby grand piano - sitting in the corner of what appeared to be a room dedicated to music - on the way to a magnificent dining room with a sparkling chandelier hanging above a considerable mahogany table. The setting was for a king (or maybe two kings).

"Have a seat," Mr. Johnson said. "Dinner is almost ready. We will start with a salad if that is okay with you fellows?"
"That sound good to me, sir," Robert replied.
"Your home is magnificent, and your table setting is delightful. You two didn't need to go to this much trouble," I said. "Robert and I are used to eating from paper sacks."
Robert chuckled.
"We wanted this to be a meal you will never forget," Mrs. Johnson said.
"I think you have achieved that already. I can confirm that this has been the best meal I have ever had before taking my first bite."
Robert agreed.
"Would you fellows like a beer before dinner?" Mr. Johnson asked.
The first thought that came to my mind was, 'Does a bear sh*t in the woods?' but I more appropriately said, "That would be refreshing. Beer always tastes the best after a hard day's work."
"Yes," Robert agreed.

After drinks, the Johnsons served a delicious salad of greens, tomatoes, celery, cucumber, onions, and avocados, with a perfectly cooked rare T-bone steak and the grandest piping hot baked potato I had ever seen. The seasonings and toppings were all served in silver or crystal trays and bowls. After dinner, Mrs. Johnson cleared the table and brought slices of cheesecake for everyone. She poured coffee from a silver pitcher into cups and saucers and served it with the dessert. The after-dinner conversation began.

"Are you moving back to Texas someday, Matt?" Mrs. Johnson asked.
"Someday, perhaps, but not anytime soon," I said. "As long as there is carpentry work in northern Virginia and not in Texas, I will stay put. I am, however, planning to head back to Texas for a month in December, to spend Christmas with my folks in Corpus Christi and pick up some more of my belongings, but I'll be back before New Year's Day."
"I'm just curious," she said. "Have you met Bob's new receptionist yet?"
"Uh, yes, I have," I replied while dropping a bite of cheesecake on their spotless carpet.
"She seems like a nice girl," Mrs. Johnson said, pretending not to notice the cheesecake incident. "She would make a good wife for someone someday."
"You mean, someone like me?" I said, interrupting her.
Mr. Johnson laughed.
"See, I told you, Matt," Robert said, grinning from ear to ear, "She is pretty. You would like her."
Mrs. Johnson chuckled.
"Okay everyone, I see where this is going. Well, here it is: I finally met Tracey in person yesterday, and we talked until late last night. We plan to do something together this weekend. Now, are you all satisfied?" I said, smiling.
"More than satisfied," Mrs. Johnson said with a big grin. "We need more good natured quality-minded builders like you in Virginia. I hope you stay for good."
"Thanks, Mrs. Johnson. We'll see. I'm still trying to learn my way around," I said.
"Matt and Robert, I want to thank both of you for the magnificent deck you built for us. All the posts align perfectly, and the miter joints are flawless," Mr. Johnson said. "I am an engineer and know quality when I see it. You have added significant value to our home and our lives."
"Thank you, Mr. Johnson," I said. "Robert and I wouldn't have it any other way."
"You bet, nothing but the best for our customers," Robert said.

I could sense a pleasant change in Robert's demeanor as if a lightbulb lit above his head; he discovered something about himself that gave his life new meaning. He hadn't just agreed with me; he sincerely meant every word. Quality-mindedness is contagious. If you want to infect someone with the 'quality' bug, recognize them for their fine work and watch how they respond.

After dinner, Robert and I thanked the Johnsons for their generous hospitality - and the fine meal they had gone to great lengths to prepare for us - and said our goodbyes.

"Thanks for bringing a taste of Texas to our home, Matt," Mrs. Johnson said, glowing.
"A taste of Texas?"
"Yeah, I heard you say that to Clint the day we met. I'll always remember that, Matt."
"Now, I will too, Mrs. Johnson."

***

I called Tracey when I got home from work. She answered the phone on the first ring.

"Hi Tracey, My roommates, Jack and Sue, have two extra tickets to a dinner theatre in Manassas tomorrow night. Do you want to go with me?"
"What time are you picking me up?" Tracey asked without hesitation.
"The show starts at 5 o'clock. Does 4 o'clock sound okay?" I asked.
"You can come earlier if you want. You can meet my mom and dad. Can you come around 3?" she asked.
"Sure, I would love to meet your folks," I said.

On Saturday afternoon, I arrived at Tracey's house. Tracey introduced me to her parents, took me to her room, and showed me pictures of her two sisters and two-year-old nephew. I began to feel like part of the family.

Around 4 o'clock, we left to meet Jack and Sue at the dinner theatre. It was a spectacular show, a perfect first date, and the most memorable weekend of my five-month stay in northern Virginia. I may have a new girlfriend.

Building a New Deck

I hopped out of my truck. "Hey fellers, my name is Matt. I am the foreman on the Miller's deck project. Are you the carpenters Bob hired to help me out?"
"Hi Matt, I am Doug Johnson and the big guy here is Jim Bowers."
"It is good to meet you both," I replied. "Do you guys have deck-building experience?"
"I'm sure I know more about building decks than you, Matt," Jim replied bitterly.
"Shut up, Jim," Doug said. "Do you want to get fired on your first day?"
"I don't give a crap," Jim said.
"Wait, I don't understand, Jim," I said. "Did Bob hire you to run this job?"
"No, Matt, he told me you would be in charge. I am just pissed off at the world right now."
"I don't know what's happening here, but let me tell you something about me, Jim," I said calmly. "I don't work like this. Take the day off if you need to and think it over, and if you want to come back tomorrow and join me and Doug with a new outlook, I would be happy to give you another chance."
Without saying a word, Jim climbed into the cab of his truck and squealed off.
"What was that all about?" I asked Doug.
"I don't know," Doug said. "He gets like that sometimes."
"I don't like that bad attitude stuff. It's counter-productive," I said. "This multi-level deck is going to be a fun project - one we can be proud of - one where we will certainly learn something new we can add to our resumes."
"I know, Matt," Doug said. "When Bob hired us, he told us we would be working with you on building a sizeable deck. I got excited when I thought about how I might learn enough about deck building to build one on my own house."
"Now THAT'S the right attitude!" I said. "Let's get to work, Doug."

I began unloading the tools we would need for the day - a transit level with a calibrated pole, a 4-foot level, a carpenter's pencil, a chalk line, a 50-foot tape measure, and a ram set. Doug unloaded two collapsible sawhorses from the trunk of his car, a circular saw, a 100-foot extension cord, and his nail bag. We carried our equipment around a three-car garage to the back of the house.

You can gauge how much experience a carpenter has by the tools he brings to a job. From what I could see, Doug only owned a homeowner's class circular saw and a nail bag full of hand tools. He's a cutman - probably a good one - he likely doesn't trust himself to build things without direction, but he's got the right attitude. And that's all that matters right now. When he is ready to do more, I'll be there to help him.

While setting up the transit level, I heard one of the French doors open. A lovely, dark-haired woman in her mid-thirties, perhaps 7 or 8 months pregnant, began walking cautiously toward me as if taking special care to avoid obstacles that might cause unnecessary injuries to her unborn child.

"Are you Matt," she asked. "I am Nancy Miller."
"Yes, I am Matt," I said. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Miller. The gentleman carrying the sawhorses is Doug."
"Ma'am," Doug nodded.
Movement in the Miller's yard caught her eye. "Hello, Clint!" she hollered as he walked around the corner of the garage.
"Hello, Nancy. I see you have met Matt, our number one deck builder."
"I have heard a lot about you, Matt," Mrs. Miller replied. "Bob and Clint have had nothing but reinforcing words to describe your talented and competent carpentry abilities. 'There's nothing he can't build.' comes to mind."
"Well, I hope I can live up to all that praise," I said, thinking about how it wasn't long ago that Bob wanted to chop my hourly rate.
"I'm sure you will," Mrs. Miller said. "My feet are getting tired. I think I'll go to the house and sit down for a while. If you need me, you know where I'll be."
Clint and I watched her as she carefully made her way back inside.
"We hired two carpenters to help you, Matt," Clint said. "Did the other one not show up?"
"He did, but I sent him home. He had a big chip on his shoulder about something. I told him I'd give him another chance if he could straighten out his attitude. We'll see if he comes back tomorrow."
"If he doesn't work out, let me know," Clint said. "We will hire someone else."
"Fair enough," I said.
"I'm heading back to the office," Clint said. "Oh, by the way, Tracey said to say hello."
"Thanks, Clint. Tell her I said hi back."
"Will do," Clint said as he walked to his truck.

As I got to know the people who worked for Wells and Sons Builders better, I felt like I was becoming part of a family. That was what I needed, living far away from my home state and the lifelong friends I left behind.

Doug set up his cut station while I assembled the transit level. The first step was to establish the elevations of the three levels. The lowest level of the three-tiered deck would align with the sliding glass door to a basement room. The highest level of the deck, the sunroom, would align with the existing French doors that opened to a dining area and kitchen. The elevation of the mid-level deck would be somewhere in between, once we determined the rise and run of the stairs that would connect the upper and lower level decks. The blueprints Bob sketched for the project left plenty of room for interpretation, which was perfect for me. All the horizontal dimensions were spot on, but the elevations were left out, purposely, I suspected.

Doug and I used the transit level to mark all the elevations on the foundation for the three tiers of ledger boards. Doug connected his circular saw to power and began stacking pressure-treated 2x8s onto his collapsible sawhorses. When Doug was ready, I started measuring for the ledger boards and called the measurements to Doug. He cut each board spot-on, and, with his help, I attached the ledger boards to the existing foundation with the ram set and 3/4-inch galvanized concrete anchors. At day's end, we had the perimeters of each level framed, temporarily supported, and ready for joists.

Doug told me one day that he was a recovering alcoholic who was committed to never having another drink. I admired his willpower. It seemed, however, that his addiction switched to gulping Jolt Colas and chain-smoking. If he wants to live past forty, he'll have to give those up, too.

The following morning, when I arrived at the Miller residence, Doug and Jim were there smoking cigarettes, consuming coffee (and Jolt Colas), and horsing around with a stocky, long-haired brown dog.

"Mornin', fellows," I said.
"Mornin', Matt," Doug said.
"Well, Jim, are you going to give the job another try?" I said.
"Yeah, sorry about yesterday, Matt," Jim said.
"No worries, why don't we put that behind us, eh? Let's roll out our tools and get started," I said with a smile. "Is that the Miller's dog?"
"No. That's my dog, Bear," Jim said.
"YOUR dog?"
"Yeah, you got a problem with it?" Jim sneered as though he had brought the dog as a tool to challenge my authority.
"Yes, I do. Please never bring your dog to work again," I said firmly.
"My dog goes where I go. I don't see a problem with letting him roam around the job site," Jim said.
"This isn't a job site, Jim. It is someone's residence. You can keep him here today, but please don't bring your dog tomorrow. I don't want him tracking mud all over our new deck."
"I think you're just being an a$$hole," Jim said.
I shook my head.
"Maybe so, Jim," I said. "But one thing I just figured out for certain. It isn't going to work out between us. I have already wasted too much time arguing with you. Maybe your next job will allow pets."
"Fugg-off!" Jim said as he loaded up his dog and squealed out of the driveway for the last time.

"Well, Doug, now that he's gone, maybe we can get some work done."
"Yeah," Doug said. "we're probably better off without him."
"Agreed," I said. "I don't think we need any additional help anyway. I think you and I can knock this project out on our own."

Doug seemed pleased with that idea, probably thinking he would have a better chance at hands-on training with fewer workers.

We strapped on our toolbelts and spent the day installing joists. I showed Doug how to crown the joists before attaching them and how to install them by himself (without a helper) by hammering a nail halfway in at the top of the opposite end of the joist so that when the nail is bent over, it can serve as a hook to hang onto the ledger board while he attaches the other end. By week's end, we installed all the 2x8 joists and the 2x6 Western Red Cedar decking on each level. While we were admiring our progress and discussing our next steps, Mrs. Miller walked through the sunroom-level door.

"You guys are doing a terrific job on our deck," she said with a big smile. "My husband, Steven, and I were admiring the speed and quality of your work last night. He had a glass of wine. I, of course, did not."
"Thank you, Mrs. Miller," I said. "I'm glad you like what we have done so far. It will start taking shape when we add stairs and hand railing."

***

One afternoon, John Carpenter unexpectedly appeared at the Miller residence looking for me. He asked if Tracey and I would like to join him and his wife for dinner and see a band at a restaurant in Culpepper that Saturday evening; we could stay the night at his house if we wanted.

A Night in Culpepper

Saturday evening, Tracey and I met John and his wife at a local club near downtown Culpepper. We enjoyed chicken-fried steak dinners and beer and two-stepped to live country music until well after midnight. The last song of the evening was, Too Much on My Heart, by the Statler Brothers. I rarely hear that song anymore, but when I do, it always takes me back to that night.

After a few hours of rest, John's wife prepared a super-salty Virginia ham-and-eggs breakfast with homemade biscuits. It was a fine meal, but that Virginia ham; how do people eat that salty meat? Once we finished eating, Tracey and I thanked the Carpenters for their hospitality and began the journey back to Centreville.

As we drove down Highway 15 toward Warrenton, I sensed that Tracey had a special time on our first overnighter. Her eyes were bright and cheery for a Sunday morning after not getting much sleep the night before. I was pleased to see her in such a spirited mood, and I didn't want to spoil it by revealing my December travel plans to Texas, but it was time she knew.

"Don't go to Texas, Matt." Tracey pleaded.
"It will only be for a month, Tracey, I promise." I said.
"I don't want you to go."
"I don't want to go either, Tracey, but I have unfinished business and need to get more of my stuff. I am looking forward to being together with you when I get back, okay?"
"Okay, Matt, but I'm not happy about this at all. You will see your old girlfriend again, sparks will start flying, and it will be over between us," she said with tears in her eyes.
"That's not going to happen, Tracey. There is nothing between her and me anymore. She has found new love, and so have I."
Did I just tell her I loved her?

Tracey fell silent. She was not happy. I tried to reassure her, but nothing I said cheered her up. When we arrived at her house, she gave me a quick goodbye kiss and said, "I wish you weren't going to Texas," before she quickly exited my truck and ran to her house.

Tracey fell silent. She was not happy. I tried to reassure her, but nothing I said cheered her up. When we arrived at her house, she gave me a quick goodbye kiss and said, "I wish you weren't going to Texas," before she quickly exited my truck and ran to her house.

I drove back to Woodbridge and found that Jack and Sue had returned from one of their art shows and were unloading their van. I parked shotgun-style at the end of the cul-de-sac.

"Hey, Jack and Sue. How was the show?"
"Hey, Matt," Jack said. "It was great. We did better than we expected. It was a new show for us; we will surely add it to our yearly list."
"That's terrific news!" I said.
"Did you spend last night at Tracey's house?" Sue asked.
"Tracey and I went to dinner with a couple of our work friends and stayed the night at their house in Culpepper. It was a fun weekend until I told Tracey about my December trip to Texas."
"She didn't take it well?" Sue asked.
"Not at all," I said. "I hope I can patch things up. Maybe when she realizes that I am coming back, she will be okay. We'll see."
Jack and Sue agreed.

Later that evening, I called Tracey and left a message to call me back, but the phone never rang.

***

Monday, I met Doug at the Miller residence at 8 a.m. We rolled out our tools and went to work building the deck stairs. We finished the treads and risers before lunch.

"We're making good progress, Doug," I said. "This afternoon, we will install all the 4x4 posts that will permanently support the deck, and pour the concrete footings tomorrow. Wednesday, we can start working on the handrail; if we finish before Friday, we can begin framing the sunroom. With this pace, we will likely wrap up this project in three or four weeks."
"I hope not," Doug said. "I like this project."
"Don't worry, Doug. There will be others. I know that Mrs. Miller also wants to have her basement finished. We will likely work on that when I return from Texas in January."

Bob and Tracey unexpectedly appeared from around the corner. What is Bob doing here, and why is Tracey with him? Bob wore a white long-sleeved button-down polo shirt, slacks, and brown dress shoes. Tracey wore a dark dress with black high heels. Bob was likely showing off to the good people of Clifton: I am not only rich and own a new Mercedes, but pretty girls like to ride around with me.

"Hey, Bob and Tracey, you're just in time to take Doug and me to lunch," I said with a big grin. Tracey laughed.
"Sure," Bob said. "Let's go!"
"That's okay, Bob; we brought sack lunches today so we wouldn't have to leave the job," I said, remembering the last time Bob bought me lunch: a hot dog and Coke from Costco. "But Thanks anyway."
Bob nodded and began walking around the deck, inspecting my work.
"Hi Matt," Tracey said with a big grin that showed she was no longer angry about my upcoming journey to Texas.
"Hi there, Tracey," I said. "it is good to see you. What brings you and Bob--"
"I was coming out this way to meet with the Millers," Bob interrupted, "and thought Tracey might want to see some of your fine carpentry work. And I have to say, I am astounded by the quality and speed of this project. Excellent job, Matt and Doug!"
"Thanks, Bob," I replied.
"It's beautiful!" Tracey said.
At that moment, Mrs. Miller emerged onto the lowest level deck from her basement door and began climbing the stairs, one careful step at a time.
"Hi, Nancy," Bob said with a smile. "It looks like your baby might come any moment!"
"It could," Mrs. Miller said. "he's due in a few weeks."
Tracey winked at me and smiled.

***

The long, hot, humid days of summer had come to an end. The early November leaves of the mighty oaks, poplars, and hickories painted the landscape with storybook colors of fall.

***

One cold and grey Thursday, while Doug and I were cutting stringers, it began to snow. It was only light at first, then a half-hour later, blinding flurries.

"What's this?" I said, holding my hand palm-up as though I were collecting samples for later analysis.
"It looks like we're getting our first snow of the season," Doug replied. "I was wondering when it was going to happen."
"I'm not used to snow. It rarely snows in Central Texas, and when it does, it is just a few ice pellets. If it keeps up, we might need to call it a day."
"Yeah, we should do that now," Doug said. "Our tools are getting covered."
"Agreed."
We moved our tools out of the weather and stowed them inside the Miller's sunroom.
"We better get on the road before the streets get covered with ice," Doug said. "It may already be too late."
"Yes. Let's get out of here!"
The bed of my truck was nearly full of snow when I got to it. I grabbed a shovel and began removing the snow.
"No, Matt, the snow weight on your drive axle will provide extra traction," Doug said.
"That makes sense. I will see you tomorrow, Doug. Be careful heading back to Front Royal!"
"You too, Matt!"

During the last week of the Miller's deck project, there wasn't enough work to keep the two workers busy, so Bob asked Doug to work with Chris while I finished the remaining tasks.

***

On the last day of the job, two days before I departed for Texas, Mrs. Miller and her beautiful 14-year-old daughter, Lillie, walked out on the deck toward me wearing big smiles.

"We have a little something for you, Matt," Mrs. Miller said while Lillie handed me an envelope with my name on the front.
"What's this?" I said.
"Open it," Lillie said.
It was a Thank-you card with $200 cash enclosed.
"Oh, this is too much," I said.
"Nonsense," Mrs. Miller said. "You have done an amazing job on our deck and this is just a small token of our appreciation. We heard you were going back to Texas for the holidays and thought you could use some travel money."
"I don't know what to say," I said.
"You don't need to say anything," Mrs. Miller said. "Whatever Bob is paying you, it isn't enough."
"Well, thank you both. You are too kind."
"You deserve it for all your hard work. And don't think we don't know that it's really you running this project. When you decide someday to go into business for yourself, we will be your first customer."

~Matt

This story is part of an upcomping 2026 project, stay tuned!

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