“Still,” I reach for her and pull her into me, her hands falling to my chest as mine encircle her, “I don’t think she would’ve opened up like this without you here.”
She smiles up at me. “Well, I’m glad I was here.”
And for the first time since Gloria died, the silence that falls around us doesn’t feel quite so heavy.
Knox
“Alright,” I say as I get out of Ford’s work truck, “what did you do this time?”
Walker’s standing next to the trolley loading dock with his arms folded across his chest. Thunder rumbles in the distance as the smell of rain fades from the air.
The smile on my face does nothing to ease the frown on Walker’s. A water droplet falls in front of him, plopping to his feet and splashing onto his work shoes.
His face is stone.
“That’s not good,” Ford says beside me as we walk up to him.
“Ah, so you blew a hole in the roof,” I say as I tilt my head upward as I get underneath the awning. “Got it.”
“I blew up nothing,” Walker says. “It rained and people got soaked.”
“Uh-huh,” I say as I toss him a wink.
Ford’s forehead is scrunched as the two of us walk around the outside of the little station. It doesn’t take us long to figure out what’s happened on top of the trolley loading station roof.
“Well,” Ford says as he scratches at his scruff, “there’s your problem right there, Walker.”
I follow his line of sight. “Oh, that’s an easy fix.”
“What?” Walker asks as he makes his way toward us. “What’s an easy fix?”
Ford and I point.
“Sag in the roof,” I say as I reach out and clap my hand on Walker’s upper arm. “Got a small limp in the left corner. It’s pooling water.”
“Probably sitting there for a while, slowly seeping through, digesting the wood frame,” Ford says. “Let me go get the ladder. Gotta get up there and see what we’re dealing with.”
I pull a flashlight off my tool belt and shine it at the underside of the roof. “Oh, yeah. Bet this thing’s been leaking like a sieve.”
“You have no idea,” Walker says as he places his hands on his hips. “Already refunding two people for getting drenched while standing underneath it.”
After Ford sets up the ladder, he and I are up on the roof. The boards creak under our boots. I crouch near the sagging section and press my palm down against the shingles.
Yep.
Soft to the touch.
“Water damage,” I call down to Walker. “Like we thought. Been pooling for a while.”
“Can it be fixed?” Walker calls out.
Ford peers over the edge. “Sure, just not today.”
Walker’s sigh is heavy. “Great. That puts the loading station right in front of the front doors.”
I grin. “Relax, Walk. We’ll get you patched up before the next rain.”
I feel Ford’s gaze on me before he pulls out his measuring tape. He gets to taking measurements of the damaged section while I walk the rest of the trolley roof, making sure this is a patch job and not a full replacement. I pry up a loose shingle to see if any water rot has formed or spread.
