Page 75 of The Beach Trap

Unfortunately, I gave myself a minor shock this morning trying to wire the new dining room chandelier, so I called Henry. He came over with Sunny an hour ago. And even though he could’ve installed it himself in fifteen minutes, I asked him to talk me through it so I can learn how to do it on my own.

First, he had me turn off the breaker (rookie mistake), and now we’re doing the actual installation.

“That black wire connects to the black wire on the light fixture,” he says, pointing. “Remember, those wires are ‘hot’—that’s where the electricity will come through.” I’m up on a ladder and he’s standing on a chair, holding the light fixture while I wire it. I follow his directions, twisting the two black wires together.

The best thing about Henry is that he has a way of explainingthings that feels supportive rather than patronizing—unlike that noodle-haired jackass at the hardware store.

“Like this?” I say, following his instructions.

“Perfect.”

From the living room, I hear Sunny talking to the dog: “If you were my dog, I’d put beautiful ribbons in your hair and I’d brush you every day so your fur would always be shiny and luscious. But mydad”—her voice increases in volume, as if she’s trying to make sure we hear her—“says I can’t have a dog because I’m not ’sponsible enough.”

“Sounds like you need to get that girl a puppy,” I say to Henry.

He shakes his head, smiling. “She’d have a dozen puppies if I let her. Here, secure those together with this wire nut.”

He hands me a red plastic cap, and I twist it onto my two black wires. We do the same thing with the white wires—they carry unused electricity back to the breaker, Henry explains—and then connect the bare copper ground wires together. Then he lifts the light fixture flush with the ceiling so I can secure it to the electrical box.

“So,” he says. “Kat’s in Atlanta this week?”

I nod, grunting as I tighten the bolts. “Yeah. Working on some sponsorships.”

He nods to himself. I’ve learned that Henry doesn’t say much, but he has a lot going on in his head. “Driving back and forth must be hard,” he says.

“Probably. Does this go here?”

“Yep, you’re doing great. I guess Kat wants to visit her mom, though.”

I glance at him. His tone sounds almosttoocasual. “I’m sure she does.”

“And she probably has other people to see while she’s there, too,” he says. “Like friends or... something.”

I stop, a smile stretching my face. “Are you trying to ask me if Kat’s dating anyone?”

“No, no, that’s not—” Henry sputters. A flush creeps up the back of his neck as he glances at me. “Is she?”

I force myself to suppress a grin. Helikesher. I had an inkling that he did, from the way he acted on the Fourth of July. It wasn’t that he was staring at her; it was more like he oriented himself toward her, subtly shifting his body in her direction, and when she talked, he stopped whatever he was doing to listen to her.

The bigger question is if Kat likes him. I’m guessing yes. I noticed her staring at his arms on multiple occasions—the man doesn’t just have guns; he hascannons—and at his butt at least once.

“I don’t think she’s seeing anyone,” I say. “You should ask her out.”

He shakes his head. “Oh. I don’t—I doubt that would go over well.”

“Why not?”

“She’s—I mean, I’m definitely not her type.”

I study him. He’s actually serious? “Henry. You’re tall and good-looking; you have your own business; you’re smart and kind and reliable. Why wouldn’t you be her type?”

The flush on his neck deepens. “It’s just that I’m—and she’s—” He coughs. “Forget it. I’ll go turn on the breaker.”

He climbs down from his chair and heads to the utility closet at the back of the house while I finish screwing in the new bulbs. Part of me wants to keep pushing the subject with Henry, but he’s so obviously uncomfortable that I decide to show some mercy and back off.

When he returns, all I say is, “Well, if you don’t ask her, you’ll never know. Want to turn on the light now?”

“You should do the honors.”

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