Noah ran his trucks up and down the table leg, then brought one over to show Ford. “My biggest dump truck. His name Monster.”
Ford nodded, examining the truck with the seriousness of a NASA engineer. “Monster, huh? Bet he gets a lot done.”
“He’s strong. Like you,” Noah said.
Ford’s face softened, but he kept his attention on the toy. “That’s a good compliment. Thank you.”
Noah beamed and ran off, leaving tire marks in his wake.
Ford went back to the faucet, twisting the old one loose with practiced hands. “You’re gonna love this,” he said.
“What, the faucet?”
He shot me a sidelong look, glasses slipping down his nose a notch. “I’m told a nice faucet can change your life.”
“I’ll take your word for it. I’m just happy when things don’t leak.”
He chuckled, and for a second the kitchen was filled with something softer than tension. I decided to stack dishes to appear busy, but I couldn’t help glancing at him every few seconds.
He worked quietly for a while, head bent under the cabinet. When he finally surfaced, he wiped his hands on a rag and looked at me. “Can you grab the new faucet for me?”
“Sure,” I said, reaching for the bag. As I pulled out the box, a strip of smooth paper slid out and drifted onto the counter.
It was a receipt. Long, recent, and with the faucet model clearly labeled.
I stared at it for a second, then at the box, then back at the receipt. I remembered what he’d said the last time he was here—something about having extras lying around. For a moment, I wondered if I was mistaken but the date was today and the time was a half hour before he showed up here.
I felt something catch in my chest, a mix of guilt and gratitude and something I wasn’t ready to name. I folded the receipt and tucked it in my pocket without a word.
When I brought him the box, he took it without comment, but I caught a flicker of awareness in his eyes—a subtle acknowledgment, like he knew I knew, and neither of us wanted to make it weird.
Noah came back, this time with a dump truck in each hand, and set them on the counter. “You need help?”
“Always,” Ford said, voice deadpan. “You want to be my assistant?”
Noah’s chest puffed up with pride. “Yes!”
Ford handed him a plastic wrench from the toolbox.Where the hell did he get a plastic wrench?“Alright. When I say ‘go,’ you hand me the wrench.”
Noah gripped it with both hands, waiting for his moment to shine.
I leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “You’re good with kids.”
He glanced at me, eyebrows raised. “I was one once. Not that long ago.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
He grinned, then turned back to the sink. “Go.”
Noah handed the wrench over and Ford pretended to use it to make the final adjustment, then looked up at Noah. “You ready?”
Noah nodded, solemn. Ford turned on the water, letting it run in a clear, strong stream.
“Want to test it?” Ford asked.
Noah crawled onto the step-stool and reached for the handle. He twisted it left, then right, then back again, giggling at the sound of the water hitting the metal basin.
“It works!” he yelled, jumping off the stool and running to the living room to spread the news to his trucks.
