Catherine looked from the image to the fence, then back at him. "The other contractors didn't mention rot."
"Maybe they didn't see it. Maybe they didn't want to complicate the estimate. I don't know. But it's there."
She studied his work boots, faded shirt, and scuffed tool belt. The scrutiny was obvious enough that Daniel noticed, though he said nothing. "Bring me a written estimate at eight-thirty," she said. "I want the damaged section and the underlying problems separated clearly."
"That's how I write them."
Catherine turned toward the house without another word. Daniel watched her go, noticing the quickness of her steps and how she glanced at the screen in her hand before she had even reached the back door. He had known wealthy clients who wanted to be impressed and poor clients who wanted reassurance, but Catherine seemed interested in neither. She wanted to remove one more problem from a life already full of them.
By eight-thirty he had an estimate, with labor, materials, disposal, drainage correction, and a small allowance for concealed damage identified separately. He also wrote down the parts that might reasonably belong to the delivery company's insurance claim and those that appeared to predate the accident. He did not try to assign legal liability. He drew a line where his knowledge ended and left the rest to the people whose business it was.
Catherine stood at the kitchen island when he arrived, a laptop open beside a cup of coffee she had not touched. The room smelled faintly of lemon polish and expensive coffee beans. A wall of glass overlooked the yard, giving her a view of every inch of work without requiring her to step outside. She read the estimate without speaking, and Daniel noticed how quickly her attention moved through the figures.
"This is lower than the other proposals," she said.
"I quoted the work I can identify. The contingency is there in case I discover something I couldn't see from the surface. If that happens, I stop, show you, and get approval before I spend more of your money."
"You don't charge while I decide?"
"Not for waiting on a decision I asked you to make."
"Why?"
He considered the question. "Because I wouldn't want somebody charging me to think."
Catherine rested one finger on the paper. For the first time, her expression softened just enough to suggest another person was looking out through it. "Can you start today?"
"I planned to, if you agreed. I'll need water from the outdoor spigot, and I want to photograph the existing boundary before I remove anything."
"South side of the house. And Mr. Mercer?"
"Yes?"
"No unexpected costs. No surprises."
"If I find one, you hear about it before you pay for it."
When she went back to work, Daniel began dismantling the damaged section. The first old post came loose more easily than it should have; its bottom was soft enough for the wood fibers to separate under his glove. He laid it beside the easement and took another photograph. The second footing required far more effort. By late morning, sweat had soaked the back of his shirt, and the small burn on his hand had begun to sting beneath the glove.