Tiny House Nation

Chanile glanced at his hands and noticed they were big and couldn't help but think of the old saw about how the size of man's hands were indicative of the size of um...another part of a man's anatomy.

"No, not at all. You didn't offend me. It just...surprised me."

Troy smiled that boyish smile at her and said, "Don't tell me guys don't tell you how attractive you are all the time. That's just not possible."

Guys did flirt with her but she'd been so busy studying and working she rarely had time to flirt back. Besides, she'd been dating Daekwon, and Chanile wasn't the kind to play when it came to a relationship. Even so, she had to admit very few of the guys who flirted with her were as good looking as Troy.

"It's not only possible, I'm sad to say it's true." She looked over at his unshaven face and said, "I haven't had a lot of time for a social life recently." She gave him the down-and-dirty version of her life since high school, the death of her beloved mother, the way her parents sacrificed for her, and the basics of her college education.

"I can tell you're a very intelligent woman, Chanile," he said as he headed out past the County Fairgrounds. "Beyond the obvious—that you're also a very beautiful woman—I can tell you're also elegant and classy." She smiled at him and then he said, "You know, kind of the opposite of me. High school graduate, construction worker, guy who drives a truck and when he drinks tends to make it a Budweiser."

Chanile laughed and said, "Education comes in many forms, Troy. I can design a building, but I couldn't do the construction part to save my life so maybe we'll make a good team."

"I hope so," he said as he turned off the main road to the property they'd be looking at. "Because we're going to be spending a lot of time together."

As he pulled up to the site Chanile said, "Troy? Do you only do commercial property or do you build residential homes, too?"

He parked the truck, shut off the engine and told Chanile, "If it has walls and a roof, I can build it. Why do you ask?"

She smiled at him again and said, "I'd like to discuss something with you when you have some time."

He came around and opened her door and said, "How about Friday night?"

Chanile's heart skipped a beat but for some unknown reason her mouth said, "Excuse me? I barely know you."

She started to get out, but he blocked her way. "Then let me buy you dinner Friday so we can change that." He stepped aside to let her out and added, "And we can discuss whatever's on your mind."

"You don't waste any time, do you?" she said trying to regain control of the situation.

"No, ma'am," he replied closing the door behind her. "Life's too short to waste time." He reached in back and pulled out the tall, green boots and set them in front of her.

She looked down and laughed. "Oh, my heavens! These are HUGE! I could fit both feet in these."

"But then you couldn't walk," he quipped. "Here, put your hand on my shoulder and pull off a shoe then step in."

She looked at him like he was crazy so he said, "You can wear those if you like but you're going to sink into the soil every single step. It's up to you."

She put her hand on his shoulder and pulled off the right shoe and stuck her foot in the boot then turned slightly and did the same with the left. Troy tried not to laugh as he watched her drag the big, heavy boots around with her tiny feet. As clumsy as she felt, Chanile was grateful for them because her heels would have been ruined in short order.

They surveyed the site from end to end and Chanile said, "This was very helpful. Now I have an idea of what we're actually looking at. I can see exactly when and where the sun hits what as well as the kind of ground we're building on."

On the way back to the office Troy finally spoke after a lengthy period of silence. "So how about Friday night?"

Chanile looked over at him and said, "You not only don't waste time, you're very persistent."

"Guilty as charged," he said using her phrase.

"No taverns or redneck bars," she said with a look of seriousness.

"Cross my heart," he said crossing his heart with his hand. He looked over at her and said, "Hmmm. You must not have believed me when I said you were a very classy lady."

Chanile tried to stay serious and said, "You forgot elegant."

Troy thought she was joking until she laughed so hard she had to cover her mouth before he could be sure. Troy laughed too and told her, "Okay. You had me going for a minute there. Now I see how you are."

"Oh, you do, do you?" she teased back.

He looked over at her for a bit longer than necessary and said, "Oh, yes I do and you are...looking really good." They both laughed again then sat quietly the rest of the way.

Chanile thanked him for the ride then went inside and got to work on the blueprints. The concept plans all made sense to her now that she knew the lay of the land as well as what their clients wanted.

She spent 12 hours a day working on the plans each day and stopped around 5pm on Friday only because Troy had stopped by the office and reminded her. Okay, she hadn't been able to get him off her mind since that first meeting, but she was managed to sound like she'd all but forgotten about it and had he not reminded her she might have still been at work.

As cool as she tried to be it didn't make any difference. He just turned it back around on her and said, "I could spread out a tablecloth right over there," pointing to a small table with four chairs. "All we'd need is some Chinese takeout and a bottle of white wine and we'd be all set."

"Okay! You win," she told him. "What time shall I meet you and where?"

"Meet me? Oh, no. That's not how things work in these here parts, young lady," he said with an exaggerated southern drawl. "I'll be pullin' up on my trusty steed around six o'clock and we'll ride off into the sunset together."

Chanile tried not to laugh but couldn't help it. "Fine. You can pick me up." She sat her pen down and said, "Do you know where I live?"

"I do," he told her. "In fact, I used to live in that trailer."

"Seriously?" she asked in disbelief.

"Serious as a heart attack," he replied. "The Bennetts let me live there for six months when I started working for them four years ago." He watched her reaction and told her, "No worries. I had it sprayed for cooties when I moved out."

Unable to stop herself she laughed again. "Cooties? I haven't heard that since I was what? Six years old?"

"It's an oldie but a goodie," he said flashing that smile again.

"So where do you live now, if you don't mind me asking? Did you build your own home or something?"

"Hardly! The price of real estate in King County is outrageous. I'd love to have my own place, but for now I have small-but-comfortable one-bedroom apartment out near the high school."

Chanile didn't probe any further as to his living arrangements, but she was very aware of something tingling inside her as he looked at her. She picked up her pen again and said, "Okay. Six o'clock it is. May I please get back to work now?"

"You may," he said in that smooth baritone voice of his. He smiled one more time and told her, "See you this evening."

"Bye, Troy," she said forcing herself not to look up at him.

Several minutes passed after he left before she realized she'd been staring into space and had no idea what she was doing or even where she was. She shook her head then got up and got herself a cup of coffee before sitting back down. "Focus, girl," she told herself trying to get the image of that smile and that face out of her mind.

Chanile felt silly for not asking where he planned to take her as she had no idea what to wear. It was mid-June in Western Washington which meant highs around 70 and lows in the mid-50s. She thought about wearing a dress then worried about being overdressed. She picked up a pair of jeans then fretted about being undressed. Finally she settled on a pair of black pants and a white knit top and then wondered whether or not she should wear jewelry and if so, how much.

"Get a grip," she told herself. "It's just dinner."

She put on a silver necklace then added a pair of matching earrings, touched up her makeup, and crossed her fingers. Right at six o'clock she heard the noise of big engine shattering the silence and she felt her heartbeat quicken as she told herself again, "This is just dinner."

He tapped on the rickety screen door and waited for her to open it. "Hi," she said as she looked down the three wooden steps at him. "You clean up rather nicely," she said with a smile. "Do you wanna come in?"

"Nah. Might get cooties," he said flashing that smile of his.

"Okay, let me just grab a my purse and a sweater, okay?"

He knew that meant reaching about four feet inside which took her all of about two seconds. As she locked the door he offered her his hand. She accepted it and thanked him as she descended the three tiny wooden steps. She didn't object when he didn't let go of her hand and led her over to his Ford F-250 and opened the door for her as well as helping her step up to get it.

"I feel like I need an escalator to get in this thing," she teased as he closed her door.

"You'll get used to it," he told as he went around to his side.

When he got in she said, "I will?"

He started the truck and said, "You will what?"

"Get used to getting into your truck."

He backed up and turned around then dropped it into drive before saying, "If all goes according to plan you will." There was that smile again! Chanile couldn't help but smile back then just sat there as he headed toward the paved road.

As they drove along he said, "You look beautiful."

"Oh, thank you. I didn't know what to wear so I hope we're not going to a five-star restaurant or line dancing."

Troy said, "I thought about taking you somewhere in Seattle but knowing you grew up there I decided to take you to the hottest place in Enumclaw, Washington."

"I'm almost afraid to ask where that might be," she teased before saying, "Um, seriously. Where might that be?"

They'd only been driving for 4-5 minutes when he pointed up ahead and said, "Right there. The Kettle."

"The Kettle. Okay. Good to know," she said nodding her head as though he'd pointed out some historic landmark.

"Some of us call it 'the Pot' but it's actually a pretty good place to eat." He pulled in and parked then added, "For Enumclaw anyway."

Chanile smiled and waited for him to open her door.

When they went inside a young girl met them. She smiled at Chanile and said, "Hey, Troy. Nice to see you."

He introduced her to Chanile as his cousin Teresa who told her it was a pleasure and led them to a table. Moments later another young girl introduced herself as Madison and said she'd be their server.

"Do you ever eat breakfast for dinner?" he asked her.

"All the time," she told him. "Although breakfast usually means Cap'n Crunch or toast for me."

He ordered a ham and cheese omelet and Chanile waited for a moment then said, "Did you forget to order for me?"

"Nope," he said with a smile. "You'll see."

Chanile wasn't sure what to think but Troy didn't give her time. "So what was it you wanted to ask me or talk about?"

He was wearing a very nice dark-gray button-down shirt and a pair of black pants and he'd even shaved. Chanile liked his scruffy, three-day beard look, but he looked positively...edible to her and she was starving both physically and...physically.

"Um, well. I want my my own house," she told him.

"Get in line," he replied in good-natured way. "Let me guess. You have blueprints and everything already drawn up."

"Well, as a matter of fact I do," she said proudly.

"Why am I not surprised?" he kidded. "So tell me about it."

She went on to explain how she became interested in tiny houses and the reason she wanted one so badly. "So...I was wondering if you might be able to build it for me and roughly what it would cost."

"I can build anything, remember?" he said still being playful. "It just depends on the materials and what all you want inside but I can't imagine going over $45,000 for 450 square feet."

The way he was looking at her made her say, "What? Why are you looking at me that way?"

"I was just wondering why you don't just buy yourself a shoebox and move in."

She grabbed a pack of sugar and threw at him. Troy threw up his hands and leaned to the side as she did. It bounced harmlessly off the back of the booth.

"You're in big trouble, mister!" she said pretending to be very upset. "What's wrong with a tiny house?" she asked not wanting to admit he'd kind of hurt her feelings.

"Nothing," he said sweetly. "It sounds like a great idea."

He was looking at her again only this time it was different. "What? Do I have something in my teeth? You're looking at me again."

"I like looking at you," he said quietly. Her hand was on the table and he reached out and took it. "You're very easy to look at," he said as he held it.

Chanile's heart was racing and before she could reply, Madison walked up with their order. "Here you go. One omelet and two plates."

She set what looked like a small mountain of food between them and a large plate in front of each of them. "Oh, my word! What is that, Troy?" Chanile asked.

"That, my friend, is their ham and cheese omelet or as we locals call it 'death on a plate'," he announced.

She poked around at it with her fork and said, "Okay. What's all this other stuff?"

"Well, that's melted cheese on top. Underneath that are fried potatoes and under them is some of the best chili you'll ever eat and if you keep searching you'll eventually find an omelet that can feed a family of four somewhere near the bottom." He cut the massive pile in half and said, "Here. Slide your plate over."

She did and he dumped a couple of pounds of grease and carbs on her plate and said, "Dig in."

She tentatively picked up a small bite with her fork and carefully placed it on her tongue before tasting it. She chewed a couple of times and said, "Oh...my...goodness. This is delicious!"

Troy laughed as she chewed and took another bite. "Human beings are evolutionarily predisposed to love grease and fat. You know, so we can survive those harsh winters," he said very authoritatively.

"This is SO good," she said covering her mouth as she chewed and talked.

Forty-five minutes later she'd cleared about half of what he'd put on her plate while he'd managed to eat every single bite of all that was left.

"How do you eat like that and have a body that looks like...that?" she said nodding at his thick chest and narrow waist.

"Um...working construction ten hours a day, six days a week?" he offered with a sheepish grin.

"Can I get you guys dessert?" they heard Madison asked.

"Not unless you wanna see me explode," Chanile told her politely. Troy also declined even though he dearly wanted a slice of apple pie ala mode.

Madison cleared their plates and Troy told Chanile, "I wanna see your plans. Are they done?"

"They are," she told him.

"Can you bring them with you on Monday?"

"I could," she said softly.

"Okay, great. Then I'll take a look at them and we can get a better idea of time and money."

"Or you could come in and look them over tonight," she said. When she saw the look on his face she said, "Well, only if you want to, of course."

He reached out for her hand again which was under the table and she offered it to him. "I'd like that. Very much."

They finished a cup of coffee then headed back to her place.

"So what did you think?" he asked. "It's not exactly Seattle, I know but..."

"It was really nice, Troy," she said cutting him off. "I am from Seattle, but it's not like we had money. I've never really been to the kind of places you're wrongly associating me with."

"Oh, no," he said apologetically. "I wasn't thinking that at all." He looked at his watch and said, "Do you mind if I show you something?"

"No, not at all," she told him truthfully.

He headed out 410 the way they'd gone to the site of the future apartment complex and turned left by what used to be a pickle factory. "It used to stink to high heaven out here when the pickle plant was in full swing," he told her. He drove a couple more miles then turned left twice onto an old gravel road which was a dead end.

There were three very old, very run-down houses at the end and he pointed at the worst of the three and said, "That's where I grew up. Right there in that house."

The small wooden shack was surrounded by vine maple trees on one side and evergreens in the back. The house was pitiful and it looked downright...awful...like it might collapse at any time.

"When we moved in, we didn't have windows. We had plastic. There were holes in the floor and we had no running water. About a hundred yards behind the house, there's a creek and my dad eventually built a pump house on it so my mom wouldn't have to carry in water every day."

"Are you serious?" she said knowing he had to be based on the location and condition of the house.

"Yep. And see right over there? We had an outhouse the first two years we lived here. That was fun. Especially in the winter."

"So your mother had to walk outside and go all the way over there just to..."

"Yes indeed," he said. "So I don't know how you grew up, but you'll be hard pressed to 'out poor' me whatever your story is. Not that I'm competing, mind you."

"Wow," she said. "I always assumed people who lived in the suburbs all had nice homes, nice cars, and nice clothes."

"Not all of us," he told her.

"I feel a little embarrassed," she confessed.

"Why? You didn't grow up in a wooden shack on a gravel road too, did you?"

She smiled but she really did feel bad. "It's just that people like me...black people...we get stereotyped all the time and here I am stereotyping people I don't even know. I'm really sorry, Troy."

"There's no need to be. I love my parents and none of us chooses our circumstances. It's up to us to make our own way and try and do a little better than our moms and dads did, right?"

"Or not," she said kind of absent-mindedly telling him about many of her friends who fell prey to the idea they were victims incapable of doing better. Nothing made her angrier because she saw that attitude as an excuse for giving up and she'd fought against it her whole life just like her mother and father had.

"Been there, too," he said shaking her out of her trance. "The lazy victim thing. My older brother killed himself with an overdose of drugs. He had no interest in working, going to school, or even trying. He blamed my parents for being poor and turned to drugs as an escape from reality. I found work and a better life. He found a needle and an early grave and his death probably killed my mother. So it isn't just the inner cities that eat kids up and spit 'em out. It happens everywhere."

"Oh, my God, Troy. I'm so, so sorry," she said taking his hand this time.

"Me, too," he said. "He was a good guy. He just couldn't see any way out and the worst part is, he created the problem himself by buying into his own crap. Excuse my French."

"We have a lot in common," she told him. "A lot more than I imagined so...shame on me again."

"Don't say that, okay?" he said as he looked over at her. "You're such an amazing person and I really admire you, Chanile. You could have thrown up your hands and quit, too. But here you are an architect and..."

"And?" she asked raising her eyebrows waiting for him to finish.

"And..." he leaned over to kiss her and said, "So smart and so...beautiful." He saw her eyes closed as he moved closer so he went ahead and kissed her softly for the first time.

The sound of car horn behind them scared Chanile so badly she screamed. "What was that?"