Chapter Eight
“At least I can walk around in here now,” Melanie told her husband, as she strolled around the newly refurbished gazebo. The planks still smelled like fresh cut pine trees, they were so new and clean; their pale tan surface was such a contrast to the old squeaky boards that were now thrown in a heap at the far end of the yard. She missed the quaint antique feel of the older gazebo, this was practically a different species altogether. Nice, but not the same ambiance that would transport her into another world. It's sturdy, and once the painting is done it will look almost like the old one, Tony pointed out. I guess. Hey, why the gloomy face? he asked. He pulled his wife to him, surrounding her in his arms. I don't know, this is all going so fast
