He didn’t want anyone treating him any differently. Money couldn’t buy what mattered most. And it could go as easily as it came.
Pulling some bills out of his wallet, Wood handed them to Gerald. “Take the guys out for a beer after work,” he said. “With my apologies.”
Gerald stared at the money like it was covered with vomit. “Why ain’t you doing it?”
“I’ve got to figure this thing out,” he said. “Plan to work on it as soon as we’re out of here,” he added, tossing his empty water bottle into the dumpster and getting back to work. He generally moved around to different jobs on the crew, working beside his guys, and had chosen to run a nail gun that day.
It wasn’t like his jobs were the only ones out there, and he liked his crew as it was. Although, from what he’d been told, the guys liked his way of doing things—assembly-line style—as much as he liked having them on his team.
The conversation with Gerald was a warning to him that he couldn’t spend another day in a quandary as he had the previous one and a half. He had to be doing something. An active life was a healthy life.
A mind left to wander tended to get lost.
Both sayings his mother had often repeated—and had made into wall art that had hung above the kitchen table when he and Peter were young. Those pieces of painted wood were old, faded and peeling now, but they were still hanging in his work shed, nailed to the inside of the door.
It was thinking of the workshop that gave him the idea. Barely waiting until his crew had left for the day—he made a habit of sitting in his truck and watching as they left the site—Wood texted Cassie. For the first time since he’d dropped her off on Saturday, he was feeling energized. Confident. More like himself.
Do you have a crib yet?
No. The text came back almost immediately. Two picked out. Couldn’t decide.
May I make one for him?
Him. Alan. His son. Biologically speaking. And biologically speaking, he wanted to make that boy a crib in the worst way.
You don’t need to do that.
She hadn’t said no. He read significance in that.
I need to—He deleted. Typed again. I want to. Hit Send.
I would love it!
He grinned. Really big. And then typed.
Are you free anytime this week to go with me to pick out wood? And finish?
It had been so long since he’d had a major project to do. Something other than fiddling and house and yard maintenance. Lord knew Retro hadn’t made any use of the doghouse he’d built.
I’m free tonight. The text came back.
Well, didn’t that work out just fine. He was free, too.
* * *
It would have made more sense for Cassie to meet Wood at the home improvement store out by the freeway, rather than having him pick her up. She’d had the thought as she was waiting for him. Too late to change the plans.
Put her lack of forethought down to the fact that she’d been distracted when they’d made the arrangements.
She’d still been at work when he’d texted and had another couple of hours of work to do to prepare for a client meeting in the morning. Work she’d planned to do over the weekend but hadn’t completed because of her mother’s impromptu visit.
The time with Susan had been good, though. Great, actually. She’d taken her mother to the cemetery, to show her the bench Wood had built and delivered. Instead of just the quick visit she’d envisioned, Susan had taken a seat and talked to her for over an hour—offering details about her life she never had before.
Like the night Cassie had been born. Susan had told her daughter she’d had a picture-perfect pregnancy. Had gone into labor a day before her due date. She was slowly dilating. And then her blood pressure had soared. She’d been scared to death, but Cassie’s father had been right there, holding her hand, telling her over and over again that everything was going to be okay. That things always worked out as they were meant to work out.
Cassie thought of the waves, rolling in, receding out. Bringing good and bad.
There were other stories, too. All good ones. A family vacation they’d taken to Disneyland. Alan had been like a kid with a kid, and Susan remembered feeling like a child herself for that short time.