He grabbed a towel, ruffled his hair back into its natural, slightly chaotic state, and turned around. "Better?" Maya nodded approvingly. "Mrs. Gable says you have a date with a rich lady. Are you going to marry her and buy us a pool?"
Caleb laughed, a sharp, sudden sound that scraped against the quiet anxiety building in his chest. "No, Maya, I'm having dinner. That's it. We don't need a pool. We have the sprinkler.
"The sprinkler is broken," she pointed out logically. I'll fix it this weekend. Promise. The doorbell rang. The sharp buzz signaled Mrs. Gable's arrival, and with it the ticking clock of Caleb's evening.
He kissed the top of Maya's head, grabbed his jacket, and walked out into the humid evening air. He didn't take the truck. The alternator was screaming louder today, a high-pitched metallic wine that felt like a bad omen. He took the subway instead, transferring twice to get to the address Caroline had texted him. It wasn't a restaurant exactly.
It was a brownstone in a quiet, muted neighborhood where the street lamps glowed like old gas lights and the sidewalks were impeccably clean. A discreet brass plaque next to a heavy oak door read the cellar. Caleb pushed the door open. No M D, no crowded waiting area, just a dimly lit room with exposed brick, leather wingback chairs, and maybe six tables in total. The air smelled of wood smoke, roasted garlic, and old paper.
Caroline was already there. She was sitting at a corner table, bathed in the amber glow of a small table lamp. She wore a dark emerald silk blouse that caught the light like liquid. She was looking at her phone, her brow furrowed in a way that probably caused grown men in boardrooms to sweat. Caleb walked over.
He didn't sit immediately. He just stood there for a second, feeling entirely out of his depth. Caroline looked up. The crease between her eyebrows vanished instantly. She locked her phone and dropped it into her purse, snapping the clasp shut with absolute finality.
"You didn't wear the tie," she said. I take instructions. Well, Caleb replied, sliding into the chair opposite her. I doubt that, Caroline murmured, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. You look like a man who argues with instructions, just on principle.
Only when they're bad instructions. A waiter appeared completely silent and poured water into their glasses. There were no menus on the table. "What are we eating?" Caleb asked, looking around.
"Whatever the chef felt like making today," Caroline said, "I like this place because I don't have to make any decisions. For 2 hours, someone else is in charge. It's a profound relief." She leaned back in her chair, studying it. The intensity of her gaze hadn't dimmed since Friday night.
It was unnerving. Caleb was used to being invisible. To the people whose kitchens he built, it was just a tool belt and a pair of boots. To Caroline, he felt like a puzzle she was determined to solve. "Tell me about the cabinets," she said.