“I have never been more certain about money.”
“That may be the least reassuring thing you’ve said today.”
I laughed.
The sound felt unfamiliar in the office.
For another hour, we argued over equipment.
Caleb wanted mobile work platforms with adjustable rails. Owen wanted a better ventilation system in the sail loft. Both insisted a commercial coffee grinder counted as an occupational-health expense.
I rejected that.
They called my judgment compromised.
Noah came upstairs early that afternoon.
He had made it through Elias and Miriam’s visit, the insurance call, and another hour of work before the headache arrived.
By the time I found him on the couch, the shades were drawn and the apartment lay in shadow.
The television was off.
Marlowe lay pressed along Noah’s front as though guarding him from the room itself.
Noah had one arm across his eyes.
I crouched beside the couch.
“How bad?”
“Five.”
My stomach tightened.
“When did it begin?”
“After lunch.”
“It’s nearly four.”
“I took something.”
“Did you call Maeve?”
“She left at two.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“You were doing schedules.”
“Noah.”
He moved his arm and opened his eye.
Even in the dim light, opening his eye made him wince.
“I thought it would fade.”
