Chapter 9 - Rebuilding the Sanctuary
Over the next three months, 742 Evergreen Way underwent a total transformation.
I didn't hire contractors or commercial flipping crews like Hector had wanted to. I did the work with my own two hands, just like Dad had taught me when I was a boy.
I replaced the shattered front windows with custom double-paned glass. I sanded down the old oak hardwood floors, stripping away years of wear and tear, staining them a rich, deep mahogany. I repainted the living room walls in warm, inviting tones, sweeping away every trace of drywall dust and flashbang smoke.
In the back deck, I used solid pine lumber to expand the sitting area, installing a hand-carved bench where Dad used to sit and watch the sunset.
One Saturday afternoon, while I was sanding down the front porch railing, a silver pickup truck pulled into the driveway.
Declan stepped out, carrying a cooler of cold beers, wearing a wide grin.
"Look at this place!" Declan shouted, looking around at the pristine lawn and freshly painted exterior. "Man, Carver, you turned this house into a palace!"
"It was always a palace," I smiled, stepping off the porch to shake his hand. "It just needed some maintenance."
We sat on the back deck, cracking open two cold beers, listening to the birds singing in the oak trees above.
"So," Declan asked, taking a sip. "What's next for Captain Carver Griffin? The military offered you that intelligence consulting contract in Washington, didn't they?"
I looked out over the backyard—the lush green grass, the cherry wood window sills, the quiet neighborhood where good, decent, blue-collar folks lived.
"I turned it down," I said softly.
Declan looked surprised. "You turned down a six-figure defense contract?"
"I spent my entire twenties running across the world fighting other people's wars, Declan," I said, looking down at my calloused hands. "I'm done running. I'm starting a private security and forensic auditing firm right here in town. Helping elderly folks and families protect their property from predatory sharks like Vance."
May you like
Declan stared at me for a moment, then let out a rich, booming laugh. "Carver Griffin, defender of the neighborhood. I love it. Hey... if you need a head of financial risk assessment, you know a guy in Chicago who's sick of corporate bureaucracy."
I clinked my bottle against his. "You're hired."