“So, tell me about this job in Chicago,” she invited after they merged onto I-75.
It should have been a relief talking about work, the next task to be done. But then she propped her pale feet on the dashboard.
He tore his attention from her purple toenails and focused on the broken white line in the road. “It’s a six-unit three-flat built around 1920. Original floors, windows, and trim. They’re ripping it all out, converting the building into condos.”
“And you get the wood?”
“Some of it. An old building like that, it’s got layers. In demolition, they tear it all out, crush it up, throw it away. With deconstruction, you take it apart to reuse.”
“That’s what your friend does.”
He felt himself relaxing, expanding in the face of her interest. “Has a whole big warehouse full of heritage wood, like a museum, almost. They still do builds. But a lot of their business is selling lumber to guys like me.”
“You mean, other carpenters.”
“Carpenters, contractors, guys with no space.”
She wiggled her toes. “Do you want more space?”
“I don’t know.”Yes.“Maybe. Wouldn’t be worth it, paying for that much freight back and forth to the island. Makes more sense to focus on the business I’ve got, work on a piece or two at a time.”
“Unless you left the island,” she pointed out.
“Not an option,” he said.Not for me.He searched around for another subject, something to keep her talking. “What does Maddie think about you moving down to Atlanta?”
“I haven’t said I’m moving.”
They were driving a long way for her to deliver a breakup speech. “Okay.”
“Also…” She looked at her lap, picking at a hole in the leg of her jeans. “I haven’t told her yet.”
“Why’s that?”
“I don’t tell everybody everything.”
“Hard to believe,” he said, straight-faced.
She grinned. “Waak waak waak.”
He arched one eyebrow.
“Squawking. Like a parrot?” she offered.
A smile tugged his mouth. “Sparrow.”
“What?”
He cleared his throat. “That’s what your dad used to call you.” He’d always thought the nickname suited her. Cheeky, noisy, happy little bird, hopping around. But parrot worked, too. Colorful. Expressive.
“You called me the Pest,” she pointed out without heat.
“Because you were hard to ignore.” Another beat. Another glance. “Still are.”
Their gazes caught and held. Her lips parted. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, trying to get his mind back on the road.
“Anyway…” She gave a slightly breathless laugh. “It’s always been easier to talk to my dad than my mom.”
It was none of his business, he told himself. He was merely getting her where she needed to go. Doing a favor for a friend. But maybe—as a friend—he should say something. “Maddie’s really glad you came home.”
