‘That’s unusual, isn’t it?” she asked. “A female carpenter I mean?”
I nodded. “Yeah, she and a few other women started a ‘women in trades’ group here in Seattle to help encourage female-identified individuals to consider jobs in the trades. The organization offers job training, apprenticeships, and more. It’s a great program.”
“I love that,” Livi said, her eyes shining with sincerity. “I’ll have to get the name from you so I can send them a donation.”
I started to tell her not to bother, then I thought why not? The organization did great work, and support from the Laurent family would be appreciated.
“I’ve literally never met another woman who works as a contractor,” Livi continued. “Or construction.”
“I don’t imagine that’s a popular choice in your social group,” I said drily.
“True. Does your mom still work there at the nonprofit?”
I felt the same stab of pain I always felt when my mom came up in conversation.
“No, she died a few years ago. Uterine cancer. It took her quick.”
Livi’s face fell, then she reached over and gave my shoulder a light squeeze. The heat of her palm was electric against my bare shoulder.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Sam. Truly.”
I cleared the lump in my throat, reminding myself to be grateful for the time I’d had with my mom. “Thank you.”
I turned back to my cupcake and gave her a little smile. “You know the thing I like most about being an adult?”
“What?”
I took a big bite of my cupcake. “Eating dessert first if you want.”
Olivia
Over the next few days I got to see a lot more of Sam, which I appreciated. I could tell from what the guys said that it was weird the way she’d kept to herself my first week there. I had a pretty good idea that I was the cause of her sudden reclusiveness, but whatever it was, she’d clearly gotten over it. She ate with the crew every day and worked alongside us for at least part of our shift.
On Thursday afternoon I was learning how to install a lamp. I was pretty excited about it, to be honest. The lamp we were installing was a beautiful chandelier that was going in the middle of the dining room. We’d restored the ceiling medallion that surrounded the fixture, and the painters had finished painting the ceiling. Now we were working on putting up the chandelier itself.
Barney and I had two step ladders set up side by side while he showed me how to test the wires and showed me which one was positive and negative.
“We’re going to connect the wires while we hold the fixture,” he explained. “Then once the wires are connected, we’ll screw the fixture into the base like this.”
He lifted the chandelier to demonstrate how it would fit in the base.
“Got it,” I said, concentrating carefully.
“Do you want to hold the fixture or connect the wires?” he asked.
“Connect the wires,” I decided, partly because I wanted to understand how to do it, partly because I was nervous to hold the heavy chandelier.
I leaned closer, lifting my arms around the fixture so I could connect the wires to the contact like Barney showed me. I connected the first one, then the second.
“How will we know if it works?” I asked.
“We turn on the light,” Barney said with his usual dry tone. He liked to tease me, but there was never any malice behind his words.
I smirked. “Smartass.”
“Okay, now I’m going to hold this here lamp into the base, and you’re gonna start working on the screws to hold it in place.”
“Okay.”
