She parked across from his house and remained in the car for several minutes, wondering what excuse she could give. Her professional instincts offered several: an interest in a restoration commission, a potential partnership, the desire to send a formal gift. None sounded true. Eventually she turned off the engine, stepped onto the sidewalk, and followed the sound of a sanding machine toward the open workshop doors.
Alice sat in a wooden chair near the entrance while Daniel worked on the rocker. The chair lay on its side atop a padded bench, one curved piece held in place by clamps. Alice was telling a story about Walter's habit of keeping buttons in old coffee tins, and Daniel was listening with the patient amusement of someone who had heard several versions of the story and enjoyed each one. Victoria stopped at the threshold rather than interrupt.
"He was convinced every broken appliance could be fixed with a coat hanger," Alice said. "Sometimes he was right. The times he wasn't were memorable."
Daniel looked up and saw Victoria. His expression brightened with surprise, but there was no deference and no alarm. "Ms. Sterling," he said. "Did something happen to the wallet?"
"No. Everything is fine with the wallet."
"Good." He waited, then smiled a little. "Would you like to come in?"
Alice turned in her chair and studied the visitor openly. Victoria had stood before audiences of thousands without discomfort, yet the elderly woman's kind curiosity made her feel unprepared. Daniel introduced them, and Alice extended a hand that had traces of flour beneath the nails. "A friend of Daniel's is welcome here," she said, although Victoria was not certain the word friend had yet been earned.
"I hope I'm not interrupting," Victoria said.
"Only my stories," Alice answered. "And he'll get more of those whether he likes it or not."
Daniel brought a third chair to the small table beside the window, where sunlight softened across bottles of polish and wood stain. He offered tea and made it in an old electric kettle with a loose lid. Victoria sat carefully, uncertain where to place her handbag among the tools and sawdust. When he set the mug before her, she noticed that its handle had been repaired with a tiny strip of pale resin.
"You even repair your cups?" she asked.
"Only the ones I like," Daniel said. "That one's survived a lot of mornings."
Alice excused herself a few minutes later, carrying the promise that her chair would be ready by Saturday. Victoria watched her cross the short lawn toward her house. The elderly woman moved without the guarded attention Victoria saw in everyone who approached her at work. She had asked no questions about money, the corporation, or why an expensive car had appeared outside Daniel's door.