~
“When are you going to show Cid your artistry?” Faye asked Jon.
“He’s seen it. He climbs those stairs every day.”
“You carved the balustrade out of walnut. He’s never done that before.”
“How do you know?”
“I overheard him say to Jesse, ‘Look at this. I hear walnut is a beast to carve.’”
“It depends if it is sapwood or heartwood. Tell him to keep his tools sharp.”
“You tell him,” Faye said.
“Who am I to tell another craftsman what to do?”
“You have an opportunity to pass on your knowledge,” Faye said. “It’s not being boastful. It’s being helpful.”
Jon smiled. “Are you going to give the same advice to Blue Daniel?”
“No, he’s passed on enough with his written words. I would like to lecture him about destroying a perfectly good book though.”
“He has more hidden away.”
“Are they memoirs?”
“Dunno.”
“Blue Daniel!” Faye called out.
He appeared. “What can I do for you, Fair Faye?”
“How many other books do you have?”
“Nine. But they can’t help the builders. They are about my life in Ireland.”
“I think you should show them to Cid. He and Sally say you have a nice way with words.”
Blue Daniel blushed which made him an odd hue of purple. “Your woman is starting to manage us,” he said to Jon.
“Are you sure you’re not Irish?” Jon asked.
“I’m not sure of anything,” Faye admitted. She couldn’t say more; her heart was singing. Blue Daniel called her Jon’s woman, and Jon didn’t contradict him.
~
Wayne put his phone down and looked over at Cid who was putting away the rest of the macaroni and cheese. “Kiki wants me to use a few of my connections to get phony references for two foundation guys.”
“That’s not like her.”
“I told her, between Carl and I, we could give an adequate estimate of fixing the leak. They would have to wait and work on the drainage problem in the spring. She said she knows that Carl and I could do the work, but Santos and Simon need to see the damage.”
“Oh!” Cid exclaimed. He wiggled his finger, encouraging Wayne to the counter where Cid wrote down on the back of a recipe, Father Santos and Father Simon.
“How could I be so thick?” Wayne said.
“When are they arriving?”
“Monday.”
“I hope we’re finished by then.”
“I don’t think it matters,” Wayne said. “Kiki was pretty chill, telling me over and over again to be safe. That the welfare of the whole team – I think that includes you – is the most important thing for me to consider.”
“Did she hit her head?” Cid asked.
“Most likely or got laid. You’re a different man, I noticed.”
“No comment,” Cid said. “Anything I say now will incriminate me.”
~
Sally bundled up and kept to the clear dry sidewalk as she walked the lit grounds of the Leighton property. She was feeling anxious and hoped that the cool fresh air would help. Sometimes when she was in a warm room, she started to feel claustrophobic and that brought on what she called the dreads. It was the first warning that an attack was possible.
“Mind if I walk with you?” a familiar voice asked.
Sally looked around and didn’t see a soul. “Stephen?”
Murphy materialized.
“What are you doing here?”
“I said I’d watch out for you, and that’s what I’m doing. Mia holds out her phone so passersby think she’s talking on the phone.”
Sally dug out her phone and held it in her shaking hand.
“Are you cold?”
“No, I’m starting to feel poorly.”
“Maybe you should go in.”
“Stephen, it’s hard to explain, but I feel like I’m being buried alive in a burning house. I have the urge to run. If I didn’t know you were real, I’d swear you were another hallucination.”
“Does talking about it help? I have the patience of the dead,” he said, his eyes twinkling.
His simple sentence seemed to derail the runaway train before it left the station. “Yes, it would help. I used to be a soldier, and I was stationed in Afghanistan. It was so uncomfortably hot, and the people didn’t want us to be there. Still, I had to do my duty and patrol with others from my unit. I thought I heard a cry for help, and I and my sergeant entered an apparently abandoned house. We found it to be empty. He walked outside to see if perhaps the caller was outside in the back of the home. That’s when the outside wall exploded. The material of the ceiling caught fire, and as it came down, it started my clothes on fire. I couldn’t move as more and more debris fell on top of me. I remember screaming because the pain was so great. Then nothing.
“According to the report, my sergeant pulled my unconscious body out and removed my burning uniform before the fire reached my neck and hair. I woke up in hospital. I relive the event again and again. They call it PTSD, which stands for post-traumatic stress disorder. Evidently, I don’t have it so bad. There are so many who suffer far worse symptoms. I’m here so I can get my life back on track.”
“I’ve heard good things about Mark’s mother and her management of this place.”
“Who’s Mark?”
“Oh, do I have a story for you. But maybe we should go inside. You’re looking a bit frosty.”
“I feel so much better, and I would love to continue this inside. Shall I meet you in my room?”
“I shall see you there.”
Sally entered the building and walked up to the attendant on duty. “It’s a bit cold out there.”
“Not if you’re a polar bear,” the man joked back. “I’ll note that you’re back in the building, Miss Wright. Have a good evening.”
Sally rushed to her room. She entered and saw that it was
