Page 70 of The Affair
Sitting down in the chair opposite from him, I motioned for him to spill. “Okay, tell me all about it.”
“It’s going to be fantastic,” he said.
“Going to be? It’s not one of the pieces you’ve already made?”
“Nope,” he answered, shaking his head. “Totally custom. She has this wood from a family cabin that was torn down a few years ago.”
“She kept the wood? Isn’t that kind of weird?”
He shrugged. “I figured a woman who still keeps porcelain cherubs on her mantel would understand.”
I grinned, eyeing the tiny monstrosities myself. “You know those aren’t mine.”
“Yeah, but that hasn’t stopped you from taking them down and putting up something that is.”
Shaking my head, I motioned for him to go on.
“The cabin was sentimental, so they kept a bit of the wood, thinking they’d eventually do something with it, but the husband has never had the time. So, she decided their anniversary would be the perfect occasion to surprise him. She had a local woodworker lined up to do it, but he got sick.”
“Flu?” I asked.
“Uh, no. But wouldn’t that have been a coincidence? Anyway, she needs it, like, next weekend for their big, fancy party, so she can reveal it and called to ask if I could do it. She said my mom mentioned I was doing furniture—can you believe that?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that one.
The woman used to be my mother-in-law. But I had a feeling the mother-in-law I remembered wasn’t anything like the mother Sawyer had had, growing up.
Luckily, his rambling continued, so I didn’t have to respond. “The only time she could drop off the wood without her husband noticing was today, so unfortunately, I had to get off my deathbed. I hope you understand.”
“I’d be more understanding if you weren’t running a fever, but yeah, I guess so. I’m really happy she called you. I can’t wait to see what you build.”
“She’s connected too,” he went on, his eyes briefly closing. “Her family is wealthy, so I’m hoping maybe I can get some other business with a few of her friends. This could be it—the in I need.”
Smiling, I stood up and placed a hand on his head. “You need to rest.”
“I want to keep talking with you.”
“You’re cute when you’re sick,” I murmured.
“You’re cute all the time. Come sit by me? I don’t want to sleep.”
“How about I go heat up that soup I mentioned, and I’ll come back and sit next to you?” I suggested.
“Okay.”
His face was flushed, and I could see his arms wrapped around himself under the blanket. Grabbing another, I placed it over his body before heading into the kitchen. Picking up the plastic bag from the floor where Sawyer had left it, I began placing the cans in the pantry and the bags of bread on the counter. Stealing one of the doughnuts, I ripped it in half and savored each bite before sneaking back into the living room.
Smiling to myself, I heard his heavy breathing before I saw his eyes were still shut.
Being as quiet as possible, I tip toed back into the kitchen and grabbed the journals from my work bag before sneaking upstairs to allow him some space.
We could talk in the morning.
We had all the time in the world now.
* * *
Monday, May 4, 1998
