"What?" she asked.
"Nothing. You look happy."
"I am. It's ridiculous."
"Doesn't sound ridiculous to me."
She told him that the last time she had felt so tired in a satisfying way was during Sterling Living's first warehouse opening, when she and two employees had carried shelves into an unfinished showroom. They had eaten pizza on the floor because there were no tables yet and laughed about whether anyone would ever buy enough furniture to pay the rent. Years later, after the company became successful, she had stopped visiting warehouses except for photographs and ceremonial tours.
"I told myself I'd earned the right to stay above the mess," she said. "Somewhere along the way I stopped understanding the mess at all."
"Then go see it again," Daniel answered. "Not for the cameras. Ask the people doing the work what you should know."
She nodded slowly. The suggestion was plain enough to sound obvious, which made her realize how far she had drifted from doing it. Before they drove home, she took a final look at the barn and thought about the distinction Daniel kept making between appearance and structure. The building had looked worthless from the road, yet the truck now carried wood strong enough to become tables that would last for years.
They spent the following Saturday helping Alice clear leaves from her yard. Victoria arrived with a rake and an optimism that lasted until the first gust of wind scattered their neat piles across the lawn. Alice laughed so hard she had to sit down on the porch steps. Daniel showed Victoria how to pile the leaves with the wind instead of against it, and she accused him of withholding important strategic information until the project was nearly complete.
"I thought a woman who negotiates international agreements might notice which way the wind was blowing," he said.
"I negotiated that agreement indoors."
Alice declared them both ridiculous and brought out hot cider. At lunchtime she told Victoria about the winter Daniel first began helping her after Claire's death. There had been mornings when he came over to repair a loose board simply because he could not bear staying inside his own house, and Alice had made coffee because she suspected he needed somewhere to sit more than she needed a repair.
Daniel looked uncomfortable. "Alice, I was happy to fix the step."
"And I was happy to give you a reason to come over. We're allowed to both be right."
Victoria watched them exchange a glance full of years she had not shared. It reminded her that Daniel's life was not an empty space waiting for her to fill it. He had relationships, obligations, memories, and a place in a neighborhood where people knew the sound of his truck. If she wanted to become part of that life, she would have to respect what was already there rather than offer to improve it with money.