The Carpenter & the Queen by Michelle Lashier Read Free Book Online Page B

warm up the room before he started
work.
    His house, the only one on this block at the
edge of the town’s official limits, was tiny, just two bedrooms,
one bath, and an attached garage. The yard was easy to keep up, the
driveway short so he didn’t have to shovel much. Inside, the place
was clean but sparse. He had invested all his money in his tools
and the generator in the backyard, the one luxury he allowed
himself, given the frequent power outages he had experienced in his
three years’ living there. While his neighbors whined about the
utility company, he flipped a switch in the garage and had full
power and heat. Paul had spent too many years working outside in
all kinds of weather to now be at its mercy indoors as well.
    He kept his computer in the spare bedroom
with his packaging supplies set up on several boards laid across
the arms of a futon. He put great care into how his product looked
when the customer opened the box. Presentation was one valuable
thing he had learned from Linda. Each chess set he made was packed
inside a folding wooden box which, when opened and the hollow part
turned under, revealed the game board with its inlay of mahogany
and oak. The inside of the box was carefully padded with a layer of
foam, divided by foam strips to form the separate compartments.
Then, he covered the foam with black stain Beth had helped him buy
at a discount fabric store. A sheet of cardstock printed with the
game instructions lay over the top of one side, allowing the box to
fold closed while still keeping the pieces in place. Yes, Paul was
as proud of the packaging as he was of his pieces.
    He settled into the desk to check his email,
propping his leg on a padded stool he kept close by for that
purpose. There was a PayPal notification for the standard chess
set. He glanced at his watch. He could package it up and have it
sent out today. Fast shipping always got him high ratings, along
with the quality of his product, of course.
    Three other new messages awaited him. His
brother-in-law Richard had forwarded another email of off-color
jokes. Nora had sent a link to a new Internet dating site a friend
of hers heard about. Paul closed both messages without
replying.
    Making ornamental chess pieces for coffee
tables was not exactly a life-changing profession. Paul missed
carpentry’s practicality. However, he had no intentions of going
back. Still, working online and never seeing his customers robbed
him of his work’s greatest pleasure—watching people enjoy what he
had made. He liked it when they rubbed their hands across the
shelves or cabinets, admiring the finish, the grain, the symmetry.
This was something Linda had never understood. He wished that just
once in their marriage she had admired the china hutch he had built
for her more than she did the expensive china inside. Simple things
could be more beautiful than the complicated.
    Paul tried to shake off memories of Linda as
he opened his last email. The subject line triggered his
philosophical nature: “Can you replace a missing queen?”
    In a chess game, once a player’s queen was
captured, his chances of winning were severely limited, although
not altogether stymied. But regardless of one’s experience, the
loss of this valuable piece could cripple game strategy. He opened
the email and read.
     
    Dear Mr. Sawyer:
    When I was a boy, my grandfather
had a hand-carved, wooden Robin Hood chess set. Many years have
passed, and now the set is mine. The Sheriff of Nottingham’s side
is complete, but the outlaw side has lost its queen. Your website
mentions you do some custom work. Could you give me a quote for
creating a replacement? I don’t remember what the original queen
looked like, only that she was Maid Marian. I’ve attached photos of
the other pieces for you to see. Can you help me?
     
    Paul opened the photos and studied them,
frowning in thought. The set would require a degree of carving that
he occasionally played around with but had never