Read Online The Sleeping Beauty Proposal by Sarah Strohmeyer - Free Book Online Page A

she observes.
    "Look. I’m sorry if you were offended by what I said,” I begin, diplomatically. "I was only pointing out that in the old days they took more care. They didn’t have modern conveniences like glue or machines that would turn out molding. As a result, the end product was more lasting.”
    â€œReally? You might be interested to know that carpenters have used glue for centuries, with or without dovetailing, and I’ll tell you something else about your fancy Back Bay molding. It also was cut by machines, albeit crude machines. The rich folks on Beacon Hill might like to think their molding was hand-carved, but that’s because they’re paying six million dollars a unit. Whoever told you otherwise doesn’t know his ass from first base.”
    Instinctively, I bristle. This is exactly what I suspected, that Nick is a know-it-all like Hugh, another handsome man eager to put me in my place. Well, not today. Not after what I’ve been through.
    â€œI’ll tell you who told me,” I say crisply.“Hugh Spencer.That’s who.”
    Nick squints. “Hugh who?”
    â€œSpencer. He’s one of the foremost authorities on pure-method house building.” I have no idea what the heck pure-method house building is.
    Nick scratches his head. “I’ve never heard of this Hugh Spencer or even pure-method house building. But if he’s the one who said molding used to be hand-carved, then I can guarantee he never sawed a two-by-four in his life.”
    Patty says, “You got that right. The man has hands like an infant. All soft and pink. Creepy.”
    I am tempted to give Patty a tiny kick to shut her up. She is not helping my cause. “For your information,” I say, rising to my full height, “Hugh Spencer has built a post-and-beam house using only wooden nails. That’s the essence of pure-method house building.”
    Nick chuckles in that annoying way men do when they think other people are being idiots. "Oh, man. I love guys like him, self-proclaimed experts who’ve never put together so much as a picnic table.Where was this mythical post-and-beam house? Or, should I say, where did he make it up?”
    â€œVermont.Though he didn’t make it up. It was real. He wrote about it in his book....” I think fast, trying to come up with a Hugh-ish title. “If I Had a Hammer: Meditations on Pure-Method House Building.”
    Patty coughs and rolls her eyes. I’m not worried. She’ll hop on board.Though there’ll be no end to the grief she’ll dish out later.
    Unfortunately, Nick is not taking me seriously either.“Let me tell you.There’s nothing pure about building a house.”
    â€œThen maybe you need to go to a better carpentry school.”
    â€œCarpentry school? Who goes to carpentry school?”
    â€œHugh.” I’m on a roll and it feels good to know something, or to pretend to know something, a man doesn’t know about carpentry. "Before Hugh built the post-and-beam in Vermont, he studied with the best there ever was, the late, uh, Jeremiah H. Teasdale.Teasdale invented pure-method house building based on the philosophy of the poet Walt Whitman. Now, him you must have heard of.”
    Nick has stopped chuckling. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
    No, I want to say. I’m lying through my teeth. Who the hell would build a house based on the philosophy of Walt Whitman? Still, I continue to press on with my lie as if it were a game.Which it is, kind of.
    â€œAs a matter of fact, it was while building this house that Hugh kept a diary on his meditations that turned into If I Had a Hammer, his first book. One year later, it was published by an independent press.”
    â€œBecause it sucked.” Patty pops open a can of Red Bull that had been keeping company with the tequila in her Tod’s shopper. "No big New York publisher would touch it and for good reason. It