On one occasion she missed a Saturday lunch because a supplier crisis required her attention. Daniel was disappointed, and for a moment she feared the cancellation would become evidence that she had not truly changed. Instead he told her he understood, asked whether she could call when she was free, and spent the afternoon helping Alice with her garden. Victoria called that evening, explained what had happened, and asked if they could have Sunday breakfast instead. They did.
The ordinary repair of that small disappointment meant more to her than she expected. In her old life, conflict tended to become a contest over who had the more important obligation. Daniel treated it as something two people could understand together. He did not ask her to become less serious about her work. He asked her to be honest about what she could give and to make promises she intended to keep.
In return, Victoria learned to distinguish between Daniel's generosity and his capacity. When a neighborhood organization asked him to repair six large tables on a deadline he could not reasonably meet, she did not offer to pay him to stay awake longer. She encouraged him to tell them what he could finish safely, and she asked whether the support center had funds to hire another qualified craftsperson. The work was shared. No one needed to become a hero by wearing themselves out.
Alice watched these changes with the satisfaction of someone who had spent years telling Daniel that a solitary life was not necessarily the life he deserved. She remained perfectly willing to correct both of them. When Victoria brought an elaborate dessert from a restaurant for Sunday supper, Alice praised it and then announced that Daniel's badly shaped homemade biscuits would have been more appropriate. When Daniel forgot to replace a loose porch step he had promised to fix, Alice reminded him in front of Victoria that being a skilled craftsman did not excuse neglecting his own house.
"It's almost finished," Daniel protested.
"That's what you said before the first frost."
Victoria laughed so hard she had to put down her fork. Daniel looked from one woman to the other with an expression of resigned affection. He had not understood, during the loneliest months after Claire's death, that life might someday contain people who loved him enough to disagree with him over a porch step.
Their weekends continued to belong largely to the workshop. Victoria learned to measure twice before cutting, to recognize when a finish needed more time, and to respect the difference between repairable damage and deterioration that made an object unsafe. Sometimes Daniel gave her small tasks while he worked on more complicated pieces. Sometimes they worked side by side on projects for the neighborhood support center, sharing the quiet satisfaction of returning a useful object to someone who needed it.