Kathleen heard the yelling and walked out to the driveway to see what was going on. The two men looked like they were going to come to blows.
“Is there some kind of problem?” Kathleen asked the construction worker.
“Yes, there is. Your moving man has parked where we need to dig the trench.”
The truck driver turned to Kathleen. “They can’t make me move. There’s no place else for me to park and get your furniture moved in without it taking hours longer than it should.”
The situation appeared to be at an impasse until a pickup truck with mud clear up to the wheel rims drove around the corner and stopped next to the trencher. Two men climbed out. One of them, a man Kathleen guessed to be in his mid-fifties looked like the construction foreman. He looked around, sizing up the situation and asked, “What’s going on here, Lloyd?”
“Mr. Andrews--we’re in the process of finishing this section. Another few hours of work here and we can move the trencher over to the other side of Andante Drive. That would put us nearly back on schedule.”
Andrews considered his employee’s words for a moment and looked at Kathleen, who was standing at the end of her driveway with a worried look on her face.
“Is there any way your movers could wait while we get this done?” Andrews asked.
“No, way, man!” the mover interjected, repeating his Salt Lake City story.
Andrews rubbed his sweaty forehead, thinking for a long moment. “Well, we’re a day behind now, I don’t see how a few more hours can hurt us any more than the rain did this morning. It wouldn’t be productive at all to move the rock trencher over to Andante while this lady gets moved in, but there’s preparation work to be done on Harmony Drive, so send your men over there for the time being, Lloyd.”
The construction worker shrugged his shoulders in response. Andrews looked hard at his employee and the man turned on his heel to give orders to the men standing in the street.
Kathleen felt she needed to apologize for her movers. “I’m really sorry about this. I just didn’t realize your crew would be working in front of my house today.”
“It’s not your fault, Miss...”
She extended her hand. “Kathleen Sullivan is my name.”
“Richard Andrews,” the construction foreman responded. He took her hand in his for a moment, and she could feel the roughness.
“Well, I’m sorry anyway. I know you have a schedule to keep. Thanks for your help. I guess I couldn’t have picked a lousier day to move back into this town. I wonder if this is a sign that I should have stayed away.” She laughed nervously and looked up at the gathering clouds.
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