Day 3 is short, so I threw it in with day 4.
*****
The next morning he settled into getting the garden patch ready. It wasn't hard—the garden already had patches of perennials: Jerusalem artichokes, asparagus, and grapes. From the garden he could see a couple fruit trees. The goat/chicken fence looked to be in good shape. He thought up a bike rack design while he worked. It would be easy to put in an hour a day for his part of the bargain. He saw several things that could stand to be done—some work on the two paths, maybe put in a doggie door someplace, more shelves in the storm shelter, and the garden could be as time-consuming as he wanted. And whatever he spent on materials was deducted from his rent. The manual labor would be a nice change from his old desk job, and the exercise would help get him into shape.
At noon Mrs. Mortensen called him in for lunch, and simultaneously he saw Octavia pedaling up the driveway. He waited for her, admiring how she looked as she coasted to a stop. She was wearing a tank top that accented the tops of her breasts, and short shorts. It was obvious she was in good physical shape. "Hi! I didn't expect to see you here! Though I confess I'm delighted. I just got called in for lunch—I'm pretty sure Mrs. Mortensen will be happy to water down the soup."
"Well, I figured you'd end up renting a room, and I came up to make sure she didn't take advantage of your easygoing nature. You could have gotten that bike for less, by the way."
He stuck his head in the door, Octavia in tow. "Hey, Mrs. Mortensen, look what followed me home. Can I keep her?"
"It's Lydia, not 'Mrs. Mortensen,' and yes, but I don't think she'll let anyone exactly 'keep' her. Hi, Octavia."
Over sandwiches they worked out a grocery list and a list of lumber for his shelving project. He and Octavia would bike back to town and Lydia would join him for supper at Rita's and they'd haul the supplies back in her truck.
The ride back was three-fourths downhill, and he discovered that Octavia was a maniac on her bicycle; he could hardly keep up. She had obvious familiarity with the switchbacks that he lacked. Well, that would change. They got into town slightly flushed; she went home to clean up and he headed off to get groceries and lumber. He discovered he could hardly wait to see her again that evening.
He met up with Lydia at the lumber yard and loaded some vegetable plants, several bags of groceries, and his bike into the pickup, not to mention his order of lumber. He was thinking so hard about dinner and seeing Octavia that he lost track of their conversation. Lydia snickered when she had to ask him twice what his plans were for the next day.
Dinner was pretty good. He ordered Octavia's recommendation, and she timed her break so she could sit with them for a while. The two ladies laughed at his jokes; he enjoyed having a new audience. Rita came over to welcome the newcomer and kidded about Octavia ignoring everyone else in the restaurant.
Back at the boarding house, he cleaned up, checked his email, wrote a little, and conked out. Just before he fell asleep, he fantasized about Octavia, picturing that tank top slowly working its way down as she enjoying giving him a show, bending over and dancing around him.
He was up at dawn, watched Lydia take care of the chickens and the goats, and had a couple dozen veggies planted before breakfast. Rover supervised, inspecting everything.
"You planning to fulfil your whole month at once? You put in four hours yesterday and already have three in today." She looked thoughtful. "Do you know canning and how to dehydrate by chance?"
"Ha. When I was a kid, my mom would say that we eat what we can and what we can't, we can. I picked up some knowledge along those lines." He dug into a large omelet. "Do you have a solar dehydrator? I could add one of those to my list of projects."
He had the garden about half planted by the time the sun was high and hot enough to call it a day. Time to go in and work on the shelves. He turned the hose on, rinsed off, and toweled himself fairly dry. Lydia watched from the door. "You're in pretty good shape for a guy your age," she remarked. "No wonder Octavia likes you."
"Thank you. I admit she's pretty agreeable company. I'm kind of surprised she's only a waitress and not in one of the professions. She certainly seems capable."
"I think there's some family reasons, but she says she really enjoys waitressing, too. No reason to do anything else if she's happy, I suppose."
There wasn't any shade, so he pulled the truck out of the garage and set up a work area inside. The workbench was fairly well equipped. "This a pretty nice workshop you have here. Do you do a lot of your own handymanning when you don't have someone like me around?" he asked.
"I manage, but most of these tools are from when my husband was alive. He was lost at sea a few years back."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Part of life. It's not like I'm lonely. I have a pretty good social life. Well, I'll let you get back to work." She stared at him thoughtfully. "Speaking of social life, maybe I'll go visit a friend or two."
As she climbed into the truck, he realized she had been staring at him the whole conversation. "Hmm." He thought.
About the time he had the pieces cut, Octavia showed up. "Howdy. Is Lydia here?" She had on another tank top; this one barely covered her, and it was sweaty, so it clung. He could see her entire generous figure; he was tempted to make panting sounds, but decided it would be crass.
"Actually she just left, maybe twenty minutes ago. I've been getting ready to build that set of shelves."
She pouted in an exaggerated manner. "Aw, I rode all the way up here for nothing. I guess you'll have to do." Her eyes twinkled and she gave a lecherous grin.
"Wanna help me with this?" He asked. "Has to be carried into the basement." It was a bunch of two by fours, some pieces that looked like trim, and several plywood rectangles that looked like shelves.
"Sure!" She went to the end of the two by fours and leaned over to pick them up, looking toward the other end of the lumber. Her top fell completely away from her chest, revealing a pair of boobs to die for.
He stared when he bent down, and their eyes met when they stood. He realized she had been staring at his bare chest when she bent over.
"You do realize that you have a magnificent pair, don't you?"
She blushed a little. "Well, I wasn't thinking about that, exactly, but thank you." She recovered and deliberately hitched the boards up so her breasts would bounce, and she pulled her shoulders back to emphasize the motion. "You like 'em, huh?" She smiled.
"I can't take my eyes off you. It's a good thing I'm not handling sharp objects. I'd cut myself for sure."
