Evan had fitted the wrong handle.
He showed Claire when she came to the yard that evening, not because it was interesting but because he seemed to need another person to see how he had lost an hour. There were two small cardboard boxes on the bench, almost identical. One held the handle he needed. The other was empty.
“You can change it,” she said.
“I have.”
“Then—”
“I'm telling you why I haven't finished.”
She stopped trying to solve it. He turned the corrected handle once, checked it, and put down the tool. The movement was calm. His face wasn't.
“Have you eaten?” she asked.
“Don't make me a project.”
“I was going to ask if you wanted chips.”
He looked at her, then smiled faintly. “That makes it a good project.”
She sat on the bench while he cleared the work surface. He put the two boxes together, then separated them, as though still unable to trust himself with the distinction. On the shelf above was a plastic tub labeled GOOD SCREWS in thick black letters. The letters climbed sharply at the end.
Claire looked at it for long enough that he noticed.
“Sam,” he said.
“The label?”
“We had another tub for bad screws. He said I was making it difficult to recruit skilled help.”
She smiled. “Did he fill that one?”
“Mostly with things that were probably fine.”
Evan lifted the tub and took out a screw. He held it in his palm without looking at it.
“He used to come here when he wanted something. I'd know before he said it. He'd be too interested in the work.”
“Did you mind?”
“Yes.”
He returned the screw. “Not enough.”
Claire watched him set the tub back in the same place, the crooked letters facing the bench.
She told him about Vivian's supplier call and the smaller pieces they were making. He listened without looking directly at her, putting a cloth over the surface he'd finished.
“She's going to tell people,” Claire said. “At the preview. She spent the afternoon with Lewis first.”
Claire had opened the service-road file after hearing that, then closed it again: giving it to Lewis now would mean admitting that she had understood the request on Monday and deliberately left it out on Wednesday.
“What does she need the room of friends for now?”
“She says she wants them to know she's leaving. Not just hear Graham explain it afterward.”
“And Sam?”
“Him too. Her own part.”
Evan pressed the cloth flat. “I want to hear what Graham calls it.”
Claire looked at the side of his face. “I know.”
“Do you think he'll say he was frightened?”
She didn't answer.
“Perhaps he was.” Evan gave a short laugh. “Apparently that helps everybody.”
“It didn't help Sam.”
“No.”
He came to sit beside her on the bench. His knee touched hers. The contact made her want to take his hand, but she waited until he put it on the bench between them, palm down. Then she rested her fingers beside his.
“I can't go back through every conversation,” he said. “Work out where I should have told him to stop.”
“No.”
“I told him she was marrying someone else. He knew. I didn't think he meant she'd leave the next day.”
He looked at her. “I don't want to turn him into a stranger so it's easier to hear what she says.”
“You don't have to.”
“I don't know how to do both.”
Evan turned his hand over. She put hers in it. His fingers closed firmly around hers, and they sat like that until a car went past with its radio loud enough to make him look up.
“Beth needs a way to hang the wraps,” Claire said after a while. “She has the trolley for dresses, but she doesn't want everything looking like laundry.”
“What does she have?”
“A wall. Some hooks. Maris has opinions.”
“That's plenty.”
Claire laughed. He looked pleased, then asked how long the wraps were. She showed him a phone photograph Beth had sent. Ordinary fabric, no people. He studied the wall behind it, the narrow space between the window and the cutting table.
“I could make something that fits there,” he said. “If she wants.”
“I'll ask.”
“It's her wall. Get her to measure it.”
“You're both difficult.”
“I'm worse with a tape measure.”
She leaned her shoulder against his, smiling. He turned and kissed her, his other hand against her face, the thumb at her cheekbone. She closed her eyes and shifted nearer on the bench, her knee pressing between his.
When he drew away, she stayed leaning against him.
“Chips,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Before you forget.”
“I hadn't forgotten.”
“You weren't thinking about them.”
She smiled against his shoulder. “Neither were you.”
They walked to a shop near the yard and ate from paper trays on a bench that was better than the one by the old ferry road. There was too much vinegar on hers and he exchanged them without asking, then complained cheerfully through the first few mouthfuls. She told him to stop pretending sacrifice made him attractive. He said that was useful professional feedback.
She called Beth to ask about the hanging rail. Beth answered in the studio, with Vivian arguing in the background about whether two hooks needed to be the same height. Claire put the call on speaker with their permission and let Evan ask the questions.
Beth wanted simple. Nothing shiny. Nothing she couldn't move herself when a client came for fitting. He suggested a shallow wooden rail and two little supports, then listened while she changed where it would go.
“Can you come tomorrow?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“I'll pay you.”
“Materials. You can sort out the rest when you're open.”
“I didn't say I wanted credit.”
“Then pay me. I won't be offended.”
She laughed. Claire loved the sound coming through the phone, unguarded enough to belong in the evening. Beth said she'd be there from ten and told him to bring the smaller drill, because Maris had opinions about the walls too.
They finished eating after the call. Evan watched a man trying to fold a large map across the road, each attempt making the shape worse.
“I want to come Saturday,” he said.
“To the preview?”
“Yes. Beth asked. I want to see the things made.”
“They'll be glad.”
“You too?”
Claire looked at him. “Yes.”
He nodded. “And if Graham comes, I won't pretend I don't know.”
Claire held the edge of her empty tray. Across the road the man had given up folding his map and was trying to get into his car with it open.
“You want more vinegar?” Evan asked.
She looked at the packet he was holding, then laughed and let him take it away.
They went back to the yard. He packed the things he'd need for the rail, then walked her to her car. She asked if he wanted to come home with her. He looked toward the unfinished boat, then at her, and said yes.
The screws stayed on the shelf where Sam had put them.