Chapter 24: Both Legs

On Monday morning Hannah knotted my tie in her kitchen, because I had tied it wrong twice.

"Hold still."

"I am holding still."

"You're bouncing."

She tugged the knot up under my collar and smoothed my lapels with both palms.

"There," she said. "You look like a man who owns a freight company."

"I look like a man who's about to be sick."

"That's the same look."

I laughed, and she kissed me, and I felt it all the way down to my left leg, which was working fine.

She had moved into the carriage house over the weekend, with four boxes and a better kettle.

My boxes from the lawn were unpacked at last.

"Go," she said. "I'll see you at six."

"What are you going to do all day?"

"Cut open a man's knee. Then I'll think about you."

"In that order?"

"If the knee goes well."

I drove myself to Carrow Group, and I parked in a visitor's space, because I wasn't sure yet which one was mine.

The lobby was glass and marble and smelled of floor wax.

I had walked through it for seven years with a coffee in one hand and a stack of manifests in the other.

I had been walked out of it, once, by a guard.

The guard was at the desk now, and he stood up when he saw me.

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