Chapter 23: Rule One

On the first of January I walked across the gravel to the workshop with a check in my hand.

It was eleven hundred dollars, made out in my own neat writing.

Pippa was at Roz's for the night, with a sleeping bag and a plan to watch three movies in a row.

Abraham was at the long bench, sanding a table leg, and he turned off the sander when he saw me.

The workshop smelled of cedar and linseed oil.

One work lamp hung over the bench and lit the shavings on the floor.

"Rent," I said, and held out the check. "Full price. On the first."

"Joanna."

"Rule one."

He wiped his hands on a rag and took the check, and he looked at it for a long moment.

Then he folded it and put it in his shirt pocket.

"I'll take it," he said. "Every month, if you want. I mean that."

"Good."

"I have something to ask you."

My heart gave one hard knock.

"Not as your landlord." He set the rag on the bench. "I've been trying to say it for three weeks and I keep sanding something instead."

"Abraham."

"The house has four bedrooms and I use one. The kitchen has a table that seats eight, and I eat standing up." He drew a breath.

"I'd like you and Pippa to move in," he said. "Not because the carriage house is cold. Because I want you at the table."

"Abraham..."

"Say no, if it's no. There's no hurry, and no rescue in it." He looked at me, steady and very scared. "I'm asking. That's all."

I put my hand against his chest, over the check and the heartbeat.

"You asked me," I said. "So now I get to ask."