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At eleven o’clock on Monday, Abigail took in the glory of their finished barn. It was amazing what a lick of paint could do. They’d taken the huge outbuilding from a dilapidated shell to a white-walled wonder in a little under four days. The mobile bar in the left corner topped off the look, and with Charlie’s help stocking up on spirits, beers and wines, with refrigerators attached to a generator, the job was complete.
“Well, I think that’s a job well done, don’t you?” Scott placed his roller in the tray and stood back to survey his handiwork. “With a few decorations up, this bar will be a knockout.” He put his arm round her shoulder. “We did it, Abbie. Had we not needed to hire a marquee, we would have had this barn ready in time.”
She accepted his sweaty arm round her, enjoyed it
