Page 79 of ClickBack

I get into the truck, grinning. “Can I come take a look?”

“I have another hour of work.”

“Then I’ll come in an hour.”

“You can. Don’t bring somebody with you to remodel my kitchen.”

“You’ve already seen the limits of this operation.”

She laughs again and tells me to drive safely. I put the phone away, then stop at the bakery in Bryn Mawr. Two lemon cakes are left in the case. I take both and add chocolate for Zion.

“How many forks?” the woman asks.

“Three.”

The bag of tools is on the passenger floor. Toronto would put me too far away for this, finishing training and deciding to fix a cabinet I don’t know how to fix. I can afford to fly back. I can afford to buy the woman a kitchen. Neither gets me this hour I’m about to spend at her house.

I put the cake on the seat and move the seat belt around the box. Then I head over, planning how I’m going to explain that I came back from Lowe’s without a hinge.

Chapter 14

Jarrett

Giselle has the oven manual open on her phone when the commissioner announces the next pick.

“There’s a regular bake setting,” I tell her.

“Then why does it need a second screen?”

“I didn’t design it.”

“You bought it.”

“It came with the apartment. You want me to take the apartment back?”

She gives me a look over her glasses, finds the setting, and closes the oven. We were supposed to order dinner. She saw what I had in the refrigerator and decided she could do better. I have been assigned to leave her alone, which gives me plenty of time to watch her move around my kitchen in shorts and one of her own shirts.

On television, a kid hugs his mother so hard he nearly lifts her off the floor. Giselle stops beside the island.

“Do you remember yours?” she asks.

“Draft night? Every minute.”

I find the picture Von sends me whenever he needs to humble me and hand her the phone. Burgundy suit, pants stopping above the ankle, velvet loafers. I had my jacket open so the lining showed.

“Is that the Maryland flag?”

“The stylist asked what home meant to me.”

“And you wanted the whole state in your jacket.”

“Yes, I did.”

She brings the phone closer. “Velvet loafers. In June.”

“I stand on that decision.”

“Clearly. In velvet.”