I walked down the hallway and past the huge hall with a fifteen-foot-high ceiling and a sweeping view of the Manhattan skyline. I strolled past the windows and into the kitchen, where I found Brody trying to fix the sink, getting his hands dirty.
Today was the day his band would be beginning their tour of the East Coast. Starting with New York.
This was the first time Brody wouldn’t join them on tour. He was doing a great job of pretending not to care.
As Brody worked the screwdriver, his head bent as he checked the faucet and inspected the tap, he spoke. “Spending your Friday evening at home?” he asked, eyes screwed tight in concentration, his tongue jutting out between his lips.
Perhaps seeing Ava had thrown me off my habitual routines. I considered admitting to Brody that I had run into her when I realized something about his look was different.
He had gotten a new haircut—his hair was in a half-up man bun with the bottom half of his hair sleek and cut short to his shoulders. I had to give it to him—he never did predictable.
I imagined what would happen if I walked into work like that.
“Yes, I’m spending my evening at home. Keeping it free and uncomplicated,” I said as he fastened the screw tight.
Brody and I had an easy relationship. While I had done everything by the book, growing up, he challenged everything he could. His parents had accepted him as the wild child and had hardly batted an eyelid when he decided to drop out of college to focus on his music.
Brody pointed to the picture of Mom and me that I had recently framed and put up on the wall. “When was this taken?” he asked.
I looked at the image for a long bit. It had been a couple of years after Dad left Mom, and she had finally saved enough to take me on a vacation. Just the two of us. We went skiing that day in Stevens Pass, near Seattle. I was seven and cheeky, and I stuck my tongue out for the picture. She had soft, shoulder-length hair, a cherry-pink cap that covered her ears, but her thick hair stuck out from it to frame her rosy cheeks, and she wore a smile on her face that I’d always remember. Mom had had the best smile.
“Christmas during second grade,” I told him.
“So, the pink snow cap and the gingham coat, which still hang on the coat rack, are—” Brody began.
“Are Mom’s,” I said.
Brody grunted. “And how much longer are you going to hold on to that for?”
I frowned, feeling irritation rise up my throat. “I have no plans for getting rid of her stuff, Brody.”
He nodded and put his tools away. “I see,” he said.
Right now, when Brody had pushed aside his band, was when they were most concerned about him.
“Mmhmm. Well, I need to ask you?—”
“How I’m doing? I’m tired of everyone asking me that all the time.”
I shoved my hand into the pocket of my trousers. “Right. I’ll give you that. So, what do you want to do?” I asked as he handed me the screwdriver.
“The sink is leaking,” he advised me and went over to the bathroom to wash his hands.
I walked over to the sink and sat down in front of thecabinet doors. Looking in, I removed the stack of cleaning supplies and dishcloths and began to tighten the bolt.
“So, how is Ellie?” Brody asked over the sound of running water.
“She’s good, I guess.”
“You guess?” Brody prodded, striding back into the kitchen and drying his hands on a towel.
I knew where he was going with this. “Ellie is my employee. Not a woman I look at in any other way.”
“Why?” Brody asked, setting the towel on the counter and standing next to me.
“As the owner of the business, Brody, I can’t date my employees.”
“That’s a pity,” he said.
