Margaret’s husband, George, spent a lot of time in the garage, which she didn’t understand. She had never invaded his personal space before, but this was unusual. She went looking one day with her daughter to distract him. She had not expected to find something so surprising. “I’m going to the garage, love,” George said to Margaret, who was washing up their dinner in the kitchen!

“You’ve spent the entire day there. What exactly are you up to?” she inquired, drying her hands on a dishtowel and looking at her husband with interest. “Oh, I’m working on the automobile, and keeping it in good shape takes some time. I’m also repairing other stuff and considering creating some new tool cabinets. You know, manly things.” He pretended it was nothing and returned to the garage.

Margaret pondered the problem with her hands on her waist. Theirs was a traditional household. She conducted the cooking and cleaning while he worked on the house’s gardening, repairs, and maintenance. It worked for them, and she never invaded his personal space, thinking that every guy requires his own space in the home.

George, on the other hand, had been in the garage for days and had only come out to eat. He never had grease on his hands or any other evidence that he worked on their vehicles. It seemed strange to her that he had developed a new interest in mechanics or shelf-building. Maybe it was because they didn’t live close to their family. Cynthia, their only child, lived in California, and they missed her back in Utah.

But that was inevitable. Cynthia had been gone for a long time at that point. She was now married with a baby daughter. Their nest had been vacant for years, so it couldn’t be empty-nest syndrome. What’s the matter? She was stumped and didn’t know what to do. She set it aside for the evening and went about cleaning the remainder of the kitchen.

Margaret had had enough after a few days. She needed to get into the garage and find out what was going on. But because George was usually nearby, she planned a strategy with her daughter. Cynthia planned to communicate with them via video chat and show them the baby. That should be enough to divert her attention away from his macho sanctum and allow her to rapidly inspect the situation.

Margaret yelled for her husband to come to the kitchen when Cynthia eventually called. On the table was a laptop. “George! Cynthia’s phone is ringing! Come on in!” George walked out of the garage and sat next to his wife to talk to their daughter. She told them everything she knew about the baby and her life.

“I have to leave for a moment. Please excuse me, “Margaret got up from the table and said. “I’ll be right back,” she says. She took a step back from George to see if he was still distracted. She then walked out of the house and into the garage. Surprisingly, everything appeared to be in fine working order. The automobile hood was in place, and there was no evidence of shelf-building.

The tools were perfectly organized, and there was no mess. It was perplexing. Things would be lying around if George had been working there all day. Maybe some oil or grease. There was, however, nothing. She paced around the garage, arms crossed, attempting to make sense of the situation. She needed to act quickly.

She abruptly slumped back against the wall, stunned by what happened next. A hidden entrance appeared. What? Is this something new? Was it always like this? As she walked in, she wondered aloud. It was pitch black, but she searched for a light switch and immediately located one on the side. There was a stool inside, as well as an unexpected find: an easel.

She noticed a canvas balanced on top with work in progress. She noticed some images of their family put to a corkscrew board on the wall off to the side. A mixing palette and several brushes were among the painting supplies on the floor. She murmured, “George can paint?” without thinking.

She was startled by a voice. “How did you end up here?” She whirled around and inhaled quickly, grasping her chest in terror. “Jesus! You frightened me!” “Margaret…” he said softly, his hands on his waist. His tone, though, was bright with a smile. “This was supposed to be a surprise!” “What are you doing in this room? I had no idea this room existed “She looked about, perplexed.

He motioned for her to approach the canvas. “We’ve had it since we moved in. Although, if you don’t know where to look, it can be difficult to locate the door. Anyway, when I was a kid, I took a painting lesson and promptly forgot about it. Recently, I’ve been thinking that we don’t have any family portraits, especially with our granddaughter.

So I was thinking of combining this photograph of us with Cynthia’s photo “He explained by pointing to the wall. “Wow! That’s a wonderful concept! “she exclaimed. He answered, chuckling, “Yeah, but that was supposed to be a gift.” “Please accept my heartfelt apologies. I became concerned because you were spending so much time here.” “I’ve had to start over several times,” he said, “but this time it’s going along really nicely.”

“I also made a point of wiping my hands with a cloth to prevent arousing your suspicions, but I believe you were suspicious nevertheless.” “Yes, I did. However, this is heavenly. Carry on!” George finished the painting a few days later and showed it to Cynthia on one of her rare visits. They also took a photograph of the family for posterity’s sake. After a few years, the couple chose to relocate closer to Cynthia so that they could be present for all of Cynthia’s milestones.st