Page 107 of Tanner

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The house was in better shape than it had any right to be after the few days they’d had. The floors were clean, the dishes were done, and the pile of unopened mail that had been breeding on the hall table was gone. Rebecca Palmer had been through the day before, had checked what she needed to check, asked her questions, written her notes, and left without drama. That should have eased things. It hadn’t, not really. Tanner had held it together while she was there, then was quiet for the rest of the evening.

Miles was in the kitchen putting coffee on when there was a knock at the front door. He already knew who it would be because Cody had texted half an hour earlier to say he was coming by with Orsen and was “not taking no for an answer.”

Tanner was at the table with Savannah on his lap while she colored on the back of an old envelope. He looked up at the knock, then at Miles. “Tell me you didn’t invite half the town.”

“Only the useful half.”

Miles opened the door to Cody standing there with two grocery bags in one hand and a box of something under his other arm. Orsen was behind him carrying a toolbox and a folded step ladder.

Cody walked in without waiting to be asked. “Morning. We brought food and practical skills.”

Orsen lifted the toolbox slightly. “Mostly him. I’m here to stop him from making things worse.”

Cody snorted. “That’s rude considering I’m holding bacon.”

Tanner had stood by then, Savannah still leaning into his side, crayon in one fist. He looked caught between embarrassment and resistance.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he said.

“No,” Cody agreed. “But we did because that’s what friends are for.”

Orsen put the toolbox down by the door. “Miles said the back gate still drags and one of the cupboard doors is hanging off enough to be annoying. Thought we’d fix that before tomorrow.”

Tanner frowned. “Tomorrow?”

“The case conference,” Miles said.

“I know what tomorrow is.”

Cody put the grocery bags on the counter and started unloading them before anyone could argue. Bread, milk, fruit, pasta, cans, cereal, juice boxes, a multipack of yogurts, and enough snack food to keep Savannah going for a week. He held up a pack of dinosaur-shaped pasta with complete seriousness.

“This one is for emotional support.”

Savannah, who had been watching from Tanner’s side, pointed. “Dino.”

“Exactly,” Cody said. “You get it.”

Tanner rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “You really don’t need to—”

Cody cut him off without any edge. “We know. That’s why it’s help and not a favor.”

That shut the argument down. Tanner looked at the food, then at Orsen by the door, then at Miles. Miles didn’t step in. This one had to be Tanner’s.

Savannah wriggled free and padded over to the counter to inspect the yogurt. Cody crouched and let her take charge of choosing which flavor should go in the fridge first. Tanner stayed where he was, watching.

Orsen picked up the toolbox again. “You want to show me the gate, or should I start with the cupboard?”

Tanner hesitated and then he said, “Gate first.”

Miles followed them out back while Cody stayed inside with Savannah and the groceries. The gate dragged against the concrete at the bottom corner every time it opened fully. Tanner had mentioned it once and then clearly pushed it down the list behind everything else that mattered more.

Orsen tested it twice, crouched, and ran a hand along the lower hinge. “It’s dropped.”

“Yeah,” Tanner said.

“Easy enough.”