Chapter 7: On Paper

It was half past seven when I got back to the new studio.

Lane's truck was in the alley with the tailgate down, and he was carrying a bundle of steel brackets through the back door.

He saw my face and set the bundle down.

"Bad night?"

"I found out my husband paid for it."

"For what?"

"Seven nights in my best friend's house."

He didn't say anything clever.

He just nodded and picked up the bundle again.

"Then let's finish your wall," he said.

I stood in front of the display wall and looked at the walnut panels leaning in the dark.

Brett had cut them in January.

He'd promised to hang them himself.

"Lane, I need a team I can count on every week," I said. "Drapery hardware, upholstered walls, custom displays. Would you put it in a contract?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"You and Tolbert Builders have been a pair for years."

"Not anymore."

"That's a big thing to say standing in a shop he built the shelves for."

"I'm not saying it for you to agree. I'm asking if you'll sign."

He studied me a moment longer.

"I'll need to bring the paper."

He came back thirty minutes later with a folder.

I read every page of it, standing under the work light.

Emergency work cost more.

Materials and labor were billed apart.

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