I lace our fingers together. “Luca mentioned that Josie asked about bite removal during training.”
Blake’s grip tightens slightly. “Was it connected to a case?”
“He said it was. The question made sense when he explained it, but she also asked whether the packs helping with bite removal understood the legal risk.”
Blake considers that before glancing toward the flour jar. “Write down what Luca told you. Don’t decide what it means yet.”
“I haven’t.”
“I know.”
He keeps hold of my hand until the oven timer sounds, then releases me so I can pull out the next tray.
Later that night, after the house has gone quiet, I take the portfolio from behind the old tax returns in the small office off the kitchen. I spread the sketches across the desk and adjust the lamp so the light falls over the pages.
They aren’t construction plans. I don’t have the training for that. They’re ideas for how the Ember House expansion should feel and how residents might move through it without being pushed into spaces before they’re ready.
The hallways curve gently rather than running in long institutional lines, but there aren’t any blind corners. The entrances to the common rooms widen in stages, giving someone time to stop before entering. I’ve marked smaller seating areas between the private suites and the larger communal spaces, along with deep window seats positioned so a resident can look outside without losing sight of the nearest door.
The colors are deep greens, warm ochre, and muted shades that won’t turn the entire wing into another beige facility. The lighting stays indirect in the hallways, with brighter options in the rooms where residents can control it themselves. I’ve sketched a communal kitchen, a quiet room, a library with space for a nest, and a garden path that can be seen from inside before anyone chooses to step outdoors.
“The light in here is terrible.”
I look up to find Luther standing in the doorway in his sleep pants. His gaze moves from me to the pages spread across the desk.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I say. “I was only going through a few things.”
He comes into the room and pulls the other chair beside mine. Instead of gathering the sketches or shifting them around, hestudies them in the order I laid them out. His attention settles on the wide entrance to the common room, then follows the curved hall toward the private suites.
“How long have you been working on these?”
“A few weeks. They aren’t construction plans. I’ve been thinking about how the rooms should feel and how people will move through them.”
He touches the edge of the page showing the window seats. “You kept the doors visible.”
“A resident shouldn’t have to choose between privacy and knowing how to leave. The hallways curve, but there aren’t any blind corners. The common spaces open gradually instead of dropping someone into the middle of a room.”
Luther moves through the color studies and lighting notes before returning to the first page. “Why haven’t you shown anyone?”
I’ve kept the pages hidden because Blake is still recovering, Luca is trying to keep the expansion funded, and Keller Industries is being pushed from several directions. Every time I consider bringing the portfolio out, something else feels more urgent.
“It matters even when nobody is bleeding.” Luther shifts closer and rests his hand over mine. “Keep the list if writing things down helps you separate what happened from what you fear happened. But don’t hide this work beside it. Show Blake, and show Luca when Luca has enough room to see it.”
“The money isn’t there yet.”
“Then the plans will be ready when it is.” He lifts my hand and kisses my knuckles before setting it back on the desk. “You don’t have to make your contribution smaller because everyone else is louder about theirs.”
I look down at the pages again. “I don’t know whether Blake will have the energy for this.”
“You can ask him.”
Luther straightens the top page, returning it to the same angle it held before he entered. He stays with me for another few minutes, asking about the quiet room and why I placed the garden entrance beside the library instead of the common room. When he leaves, he kisses my forehead and tells me not to stay awake much longer.
The next afternoon, the children are at a playdate, and Blake is in the den with his cane resting against his thigh. There’s no laptop open beside him and no stack of documents on the table, so I carry the portfolio in before I can decide to wait for a better time.
“Can I show you something?”
Blake looks at the folder in my hands and shifts forward. “Of course.”
