“Because you enjoy it or because you’re punishing yourself?”
I considered.
“Both.”
“No.”
“Mostly because I need it.”
“That I believe.”
He picked up my cane and handed it to me.
I stared at the black shaft.
“I still dislike this.”
“It has never said anything kind about you either.”
I took it.
Downstairs, Reid gave me the keys to the front gate.
Not ceremonially.
He simply passed them over while carrying a coil of shore cable toward the north bay.
I unlocked the gate.
Raised the first roller door.
Switched on the clean-loft ventilation.
Checked the charging cabinet.
Each task was ordinary.
That was the point.
Reid did not hover.
He trusted me with opening the yard because I knew how.
By the time Caleb arrived carrying a paper sack from the bakery, I had completed the stock count and marked six low items on the order board.
Owen came behind him.
His gaze went immediately to the espresso machine.
“Did anyone flush the boiler?”
“No,” Caleb said.
“You used it yesterday.”
“You’re alive.”
“That is not evidence of proper maintenance.”
