Chapter 3: A Reason to Return

On Monday afternoon, Nathan walked into the Bennett Grand wearing work boots and a canvas jacket dusted with sawdust.

He had spent the morning fitting cabinet doors in an old house three blocks away. Returning Victoria’s place card added less than ten minutes to his drive, though he had taken longer than that deciding whether to come.

At the front desk, he reached into his pocket.

“Nathan?”

Victoria had just stepped out of an elevator. She held a folder against her side and wore a gray coat over dark work clothes. Two employees beside her stopped when she did.

He held up the card. “I believe this belongs to you.”

Victoria crossed the lobby. “You came all the way here to return a place card?”

“I had a job nearby.”

“How nearby?”

“Near enough.”

She accepted it, turning it over to find the blue ink mark. “Most people would have thrown it away.”

“My daughter says I keep too many things.”

“She may be right.”

“She usually is.” He glanced at her folder. “You’re working. I can leave you to it.”

Victoria handed the folder to one of the employees. “Would you ask Charles to start without me? I’ll join in twenty minutes.”

Both employees tried to hide their surprise.

She turned back to Nathan. “Coffee?”

“You already know where they keep it.”

They sat at a small table in the lobby café. Victoria ordered without opening a menu. Nathan chose black coffee and the least expensive pastry he could find.

“I can pay,” he said when she reached for the check.

“I invited you.”

“You also own the place.”

“Does that make my invitation less genuine?”

“No.” He considered it. “It makes the check more confusing.”

She laughed, then grew serious. “I wondered whether you’d call.”

“I didn’t have your number.”

“It’s listed on the company website.”

“That seemed like the wrong number to use.”

“It would have reached my assistant.”

“Then I’m glad I didn’t.”

Victoria folded the place card and slipped it into her coat pocket. “This was a better way.”

Their twenty minutes stretched to forty. Nathan told her about the cabinet job: a family had painted over hinges so many times that the doors barely moved. Victoria described a guest who had insisted the hotel clock was running fast because he had missed breakfast.

At three, Nathan checked his phone. “I have to pick up Emma.”

“Of course.”

He stood. “Would you want to get coffee somewhere you don’t own?”

Victoria looked up at him. “Yes.”

Their first coffee outside the hotel happened on Thursday. The second happened the following week. On a cold Saturday, they walked along the river until Nathan’s ears hurt and Victoria admitted she had dressed for appearance instead of weather.

Nathan offered his gloves. She refused them. Ten minutes later, she accepted.

He learned that she called her mother every Sunday despite their frequent disagreements. Victoria learned that his workshop employed three full-time craftspeople and a part-time apprentice. Neither rushed to name what was happening.

Emma did.

“You’ve checked your phone four times,” she told Nathan one evening while they cleaned up the workshop.

“Daniel asked about a shelf.”

“Daniel doesn’t make you smile at a blank screen.”

Nathan put the phone away. “Victoria might come by on Saturday.”

Emma brushed wood shavings into a pile. “For work?”

“No.”

“Then tell her not to wear nice shoes. The floor has nails.”

There were no exposed nails. Emma knew that as well as he did. Nathan chose not to argue.

Victoria arrived in a tailored coat and sensible boots. She brought a box of cookies from a bakery near her office. Emma accepted one and showed her a small walnut jewelry box she was making for a school project.

“The lid keeps catching,” Emma said.

Victoria examined it. “What happens if you sand this edge?”

“You can try.”

Nathan passed her safety glasses and a sheet of sandpaper. Victoria worked carefully for several minutes.

Emma watched. “You’re going against the grain.”

Victoria stopped. “I thought I was following the edge.”

“The grain goes this way.” Emma ran one finger along the wood. “See the lines?”

“I do now.”

Victoria started again. Nathan went back to the panel he was fitting, though he listened as Emma explained why one side of the box needed a lighter touch. Victoria asked questions and followed her instructions. When the lid finally settled into place, Emma grinned.

“You fixed it,” she said.

“We fixed it. I would have made it worse alone.”

Emma looked pleased by the distinction.

Later, Nathan walked Victoria through the workroom. She paused beside an old hand plane on a shelf.

“My father gave me that,” he said. “I was nineteen. I thought an electric one would do everything faster.”

“Did it?”

“For some things.” He picked up the plane. “He made me learn how to sharpen the blade before he let me use it.”

Victoria touched the worn wooden handle. “You still use it.”

“On work that needs it.”

Beyond them, Emma called for help with the jewelry box clasp. Nathan set the plane down, and Victoria followed him back to the bench.

At dinner, Emma asked Victoria whether she knew how to make pancakes.

“I can make reservations,” Victoria said.

“That wasn’t the question.”

“I know. I can make pancakes, but the first one usually falls apart.”

“Dad burns the second one.”

Nathan looked between them. “I see you’ve formed an alliance.”

Emma waited until he was carrying plates to the sink before asking Victoria, “Are you coming back?”

Nathan turned. Victoria glanced at him, then answered Emma directly.

“I’d like to, if you want me here.”

Emma considered it. “You can finish the box with me.”

“I’d like that too.”

Victoria left before Emma’s bedtime. Nathan walked her to her car, where the last light of the afternoon caught on the windows.

“She likes you,” he said.

“I like her.”

“She doesn’t invite many people into the workshop.”

“Neither do you.”

Nathan rested a hand on the car door. “You’re right.”

Victoria stepped closer and kissed him, briefly enough to leave him wondering if she had meant to. Then she kissed him again.

Inside, Emma watched through the front window. When Nathan returned, she was holding the jewelry box behind her back.

“I wasn’t spying,” she said.

“I didn’t ask.”

“Good.”

On Monday morning, Victoria found the wedding photograph in a local business newsletter. Someone had taken it while she and Nathan danced beneath the chandeliers. The caption named her as CEO of Bennett Hospitality Group and identified him as a local craftsman.

Before she could call him, Nathan’s first message arrived.

Did you know anyone was taking pictures?

She read it twice. Then another message appeared.

A contractor just asked whether you could get him a meeting with your company.