Drew: Hey cuz. Lily’s runnin’ late.
Ethan: She ok?
What the hay did that mean?
Ethan: How late?
Drew: 9:15
Drew: Go easy on her.
Ethan: Thought you said she was ok?
Drew:
Ethan laughed out loud, shaking his head. Then he texted a thumbs-up, and hesitated before going inside. The donut place was nearby, so he looked up the number and called.
“Dan’s Donuts.”
“Yeah, This is Ethan Brand. I have a contractor coming over to Manny’s place in fifteen minutes. Can you deliver?”
“Hell, yeah, I’ll bring it over myself. What do you need?”
He rattled off an order, and by the time the contractors arrived—he’d added an electrician, a plumber, and a floor man to the mix—he had a vat of coffee and several open boxes of pastries and donuts spread out on the bar top.
The food was down to crumbs by the time Lily arrived with her tablet in her dad’s tool belt. She wore big, dark sunglasses, a flannel unbuttoned over a blue shirt, and faded jeans. Her hair was in a long, white-gold braid that hung in front of her left shoulder.
Ethan couldn’t take his eyes off her, until the general contractor cleared his throat and elbowed him. “Intro please?”
“Samwell Burdick, this is my manager, Lily Hyde.”
“Shoot, did we save her any donuts?” he asked. Then grinned. “Good to meet you, Lily.”
“Same,” she said.
Ethan reached beneath the bar for an insulated travel mug of coffee, fixed the way she liked it, and held it up toward her. She came across the room to take it. There was pure appreciation in the way she hugged the mug between her palms.
“I stashed a couple’a donuts too, if you?—”
She held up a stop-sign hand, and he nodded, straightened, left the spare donuts where they were.
“I was just sayin’,” Burdick began. “That shed might have to go. Do you think you want it torn down or relocated?”
“Let’s take a look at it,” Ethan said. Then he headed outside with Sam and Lily. She put the iPad in the apron’s nail pocket and brought the coffee with her.
“The shed, right there,” said Burdick, pointing.
“We haven’t even looked inside that yet, have we, boss?” Lily asked.
Calling him boss was, he guessed, her way of reminding him of his stupid adoption of her stupid rule. Hands-off while they were working together. He was already regretting having re-invoked it.
Burdick was busy measuring the outside of the wall they wanted to knock out, so Ethan and Lily focused on the shed. It was a large garden shed, the kind you could buy ready-made in the Lowe’s parking lot. Red with white trim boards. Two doors in front that opened in the middle. It had a barn-shaped, gray-shingled roof and about enough head room to stand in upright—for most people. Not for him.
The door handle had a keyhole in it. He was surprised when he twisted it, and found it unlocked, then pulled one door open. Its partner was held in place by a bolt at the top and another at the bottom. There was no power, no light switch. He peered into the dark space and spotted a lawn mower, an electric weed trimmer, a bucket full of sponges with a bottle of car-washing soap, a sleeping bag on the floor…
Wait a minute.
Yes, that was a sleeping bag on the floor, unrolled, with a pillow on one end, and a flashlight, water bottle, and paperback book on the other. On the left there was an unopened packet of cheese-like substance and crackers, the kind with the wooden peg to use for spreading.
