“I know,” Caleb said.
I pulled on gloves.
“You are both replaceable.”
“Not according to the schedule,” Owen replied.
We worked through the afternoon.
The second Harbor Transit payment arrived.
Not enough to erase every concern.
Enough for payroll and the supplier account.
I transferred the funds immediately, then checked the insurance portal.
Still pending.
Relief over one payment merely exposed how tired I had become of uncertainty.
At half past five, Noah appeared in the office doorway.
He wore dark jeans, a charcoal sweater, and no shoes.
I stared at his feet.
“You came down the stairs barefoot.”
“I brought the cane.”
“That was not the issue.”
“I intended to surprise you.”
“You succeeded.”
His gaze moved to the computer screen.
“Bad numbers?”
“Improving numbers.”
“Insurance?”
“Nothing.”
He absorbed the answer.
Then he pointed upstairs.
“I made dinner.”
“You did?”
“Cod with lemon. Potatoes. Something green.”
“Something?”
