People arrived in waves. Former firefighters, neighbors, church friends, men who called Frank Bennett as though 40 years had not passed. Daniel fit among them more easily than Laura expected. Too easily, maybe. Within 20 minutes, he was discussing bridges with one of Frank's old friends, helping Norah fix a crooked centerpiece, and accepting a second piece of cheese from Susan, despite claiming he was not hungry.
Laura watched from across the room. Daniel looked like someone who belonged there. She should have liked that. She did. That was the problem.
Later, she found him standing on a chair trying to straighten the birthday banner. It's crooked, she said. Daniel looked down. I'm aware you're an engineer. Structural, not decorative.
That sounds convenient. He adjusted the left side. Better, worse, helpful. Laura stepped closer and pointed. Two inches right.
He moved it too far. Daniel looked at her. You understand why people hire professionals? She smiled. He stepped down.
What happens after the weekend? Laura answered before thinking. Go home. Daniel paused. That was fast.
Something the way he said it made her look at him, not accusing, just noticing. She folded the unused tape around her fingers. I have work Monday. So do I. That's usually how Mondays work.
Daniel smiled faintly. Before he could say anything else, an older man from Frank's neighborhood walked over carrying punch. He looked at Daniel, then at Laura. Well, Laura, is this the first gentleman you've brought home since Peter? The question was casual, friendly even.
Laura froze anyway. Daniel answered before she could. I'm actually here because my father knew Frank. The man brightened. Samuel Hayes.
Daniel nodded. The conversation turned immediately. Warehouse fire. Volunteer department. Old names.
Laura should have been grateful. Instead, irritation climbed into her throat. Daniel had rescued her quietly, efficiently, exactly as though she needed it. She walked away before anyone noticed. Near the kitchen, she heard Michael speaking to Daniel a few minutes later.
She used to be the person who stayed until everyone went home. Daniel said something Laura could not hear. Michael continued, "Mom used to complain Laura would wash the last glass even if it was 2:00 in the morning." Laura stopped. There was no cruelty in Michael's voice.
That somehow made it worse. She heard herself being described like someone who had disappeared while still standing 10 ft away. Daniel turned and saw her. Michael followed his gaze. Laura, I need air.
She walked toward the side hallway. Daniel followed outside the storage room. She turned. Did he give you the whole history? Daniel frowned.
What? My brother, my father, Nora. Has everyone explained what happened to me? No. You seem to know enough, Laura. She crossed her arms.
This whole weekend has turned into some family project. Daniel stared at her. Project? Get Laura to stay. Get Laura to accept help.
Get Laura to stop being difficult. I didn't come here to fix you. You came because you felt sorry for the woman whose father bet she'd arrive alone. No. His answer came quickly. I came because it sounded funny.