Two of them opened something. Noah brought his plate to the sink without being asked, and Daniel looked at the back of his son's head and felt the small, ordinary ache of a man who is doing this alone and has stopped counting how long. The gate at Whitfield Hollow had a guard house and a man in it who took his time. Two trucks went through ahead of him, a landscaping crew and a white van with a plumbing decal. Neither one slowed down.
The arm went up for both of them like it was glad to see them. When Daniel pulled forward, the arm stayed down. The guard came out with a clipboard. He wanted a license. He wanted the name of the homeowner.
He wanted the work order. And when Daniel produced it, he wanted to call the house and confirm it. And he made the call standing where Daniel could watch him make it. It took 11 minutes. Daniel kept both hands on the wheel the entire time and said, "Thank you" when the arm finally went up.
He wasn't quiet because he didn't understand what had just happened. He was quiet because he understood it exactly and had for a very long time. The house at the end of Marchment Lane was gray stone with a slate roof and a lawn that looked mowed by someone with a diagram. Daniel parked on the gravel apron, got out and had walked maybe 20 feet toward the east line when the front door opened. Catherine Hail came down the steps in a charcoal blazer with her phone in her hand.
She was somewhere in her 40s and she moved like a person whose whole day was already scheduled in 15-minute blocks and running late anyway. She looked at the truck first, then at him. You're not Marcus. No, ma'am. Marcus is booked through November.
He sent me. He didn't tell me that. He told me to tell you. She looked past him at the flattened section of fence, 30 feet of it, lying in the grass where a delivery driver had cut the corner too tight. And then she looked back at Daniel's boots and his work pants and the dust that lived in the seams of both.
Fine. What's the number? I don't have one yet. You're standing in front of it. I'm standing in front of the part that fell, Daniel said.
I'd like to look at the part that didn't. Catherine's jaw set. I have two attorneys, an insurance adjuster and a board call at 11. "What I need from you is a figure." "And if I give you one now, it'll be wrong and you'll pay for it twice."
That was when she said it. "I don't need a lecture about fencing. You're just a repairman. You work for people like me. That's all this is."
The truck door was open. Noah was in the passenger seat with a library book on his knees. He heard it. Daniel saw him hear it.