He stood beside the condenser and looked at Caroline through the blazing morning heat.
“Twenty-dollar part.”
She stared.
“The company wanted almost three thousand.”
“They probably assumed compressor replacement.”
“Without looking?”
“Welcome to my industry.”
“When can you fix it?”
“I can get the part after work.”
“Tonight?”
“Before my security shift.”
Caroline smiled.
“Thank you.”
“No money.”
“Absolutely money.”
“No.”
“Marcus.”
“No.”
She crossed her arms.
“I am an architect.”
“Congratulations.”
“I argue with contractors for a living.”
“And I crawl through attics at one hundred forty degrees.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I have greater tolerance for suffering.”
Caroline laughed.
Marcus hated how much he liked the sound.
She stayed at his house most of the day.
Officially because hers remained too hot.
Unofficially because neither of them seemed especially interested in ending the arrangement.
Marcus slept for four hours before his afternoon work call.
When he woke, he walked into the living room and stopped.
Caroline was on the floor.
Amara sat beside her.
Construction paper covered almost every visible surface.
“What happened?”
Amara looked up.
“Caroline is helping me redesign my desert project.”
Marcus looked at Caroline.
“I thought you were going home.”
“It was ninety-seven inside.”
“Fair.”
Caroline held up a cardboard ridge.
“We’re creating terrain.”
“You’re creating a mess.”
“We can do both.”
Amara nodded.
“She understands design.”
“Apparently.”
Marcus stood there too long.
Caroline noticed.
Her face changed.
“Is this okay?”
He knew what she was asking.
Not about cardboard.
Not really.
Was it okay that she had stayed?
Okay that she had occupied the floor?
Okay that his daughter had already started acting like she belonged there?
Marcus should have drawn a boundary.
He knew it.
Instead he said, “You staying for dinner?”
Amara cheered before Caroline answered.
Marcus grilled chicken.
Caroline made salad.
Amara directed traffic.
Then Marcus replaced Caroline’s capacitor before leaving for his night shift.
The condenser started with a healthy hum.
Within minutes, cool air flowed through Caroline’s house.
Problem solved.
Caroline stood in her kitchen beneath a ceiling vent.
“That feels incredible.”
“Good.”
Marcus packed his tools.
“What do I owe you?”
“Nothing.”
“Marcus.”
“Dinner.”
“You cooked dinner.”
“You helped Amara.”
“That does not equal HVAC labor.”
“It does tonight.”
Caroline watched him.
Marcus lifted the tool bag.
“You’re fixed.”
“Right.”
Something flickered across her expression.
Relief.
Then disappointment.
Marcus recognized it because he felt the same thing.
She covered it quickly.
“Guess I should let you get to work.”
“Yeah.”
He reached the door.
“Marcus?”
He turned.
Caroline stood beneath the cold air.