Page 59 of Home Ice

Chapter fourteen

Niko

Idelivered the Ravenswood shelves in person, three coats deep in oil and rubbed out. Installation was part of the job. The client, a retired pharmacist named Mrs. Okafor, met me at her door with a level in her hand.

“I bought this yesterday,” she said. “The man at the store showed me how to use it. I’m going to check your work.”

“Good,” I said, and carried the first shelf in.

She checked every one as I hung them. She set the level on each board, crouched with her hands on her knees, and watched the bubble. It came up centered five times out of five.

“My son-in-law hung a shelf for me in the old house,” she said. “Everything slid to the left for nine years. I kept my late husband’s picture on it and he leaned. He never leaned in life.”

“He’s level now,” I said.

“He would appreciate that. He was a pharmacist and checked everything twice his whole life. It used to drive me crazy, and now it’s the thing I miss most.” She handed me a check. “Go on. I have shelves to fill.”

Back at the shop, I had the entire afternoon and a milled stack of white oak for a client’s blanket chest. I got the first joints cut, and the work went fine.

The block plane sat at the end of the bench, squared to the edge.

It had been there for four days. Rafe put it there the night of the St. Louis game, and I left it there.

Nothing had come from him since the kiss. He didn’t send any texts about wood. I didn’t hold up my end either. What would I say?

Max called two days later while I was cutting the last of the blanket chest joints. I braced the phone between my shoulder and my ear.

”—and before you react, I want you to remember that I love you and that everything I do, I do for this family.”

“What did you do?”

“The gala,” Max said. “Saturday. The Hendricks Foundation at the Palmer House. It’s my Super Bowl, the biggest night of the entire arrangement. Every dinner and sidewalk photo has been building toward this. I paid for a family table.”

“A what?”

“The foundation seats sponsor guests with their families. It’s warmer and photographs better. Don’t make me sound cynical. It’s not that. Rafe’s family is in Saskatchewan and mine is here. He can be part of ours for the evening.”

“You asked Ma?”

“I informed Ma of the existence of the possibility,” Max said.

“You told Ma there was a table at the Palmer House.”

“I mentioned the Palmer House in a neutral tone, yes.”

Ma could not receive the name Palmer House with neutrality. Telling Ma that she would sit at a table at the Palmer House was telling her to start choosing earrings.

“I’m sure she’s already called Aunt Voula,” I said.

Max sighed. “Look. Dad’s coming. Yiayia says galas are for people who need strangers to watch them eat, so she’s staying home to watch her program. Even though they walk in together, Dad will find the other man there who owns a lathe and disappear. Ma needs somebody at the table who isn’t working the room. My job is working the room.”

“So the one who isn’t working the room is me.”

“Yes, for one night. All you have to do is sit next to Ma, eat the food, and act normal.”

I waited for reasons to say no, and they didn’t show up.

“What time?” I asked.