Walking into Sami’s office, Valerie said, “Good morning.”

Sami’s fingers hit the save button on her computer as she looked up. “Hi there. How has your morning gone?”

“Quiet for a Monday,” she said, then gestured at the closed door behind Sami. “Is Brad free?”

“Sure. Go on in.”

Valerie tilted her head and looked at her. “Just go on in? You don’t need to let him know or anything?”

“Not for you.” Her phone started to ring, so she put a hand on it and said, “You, his mom, his dad, his brothers, y’all are on the, ‘If I’m not in a meeting, send them in,’ list.” She held up a finger and lifted the receiver. “Brad Dixon’s office, please hold.” After hitting the hold button, she shrugged. “So, go on in. He’s available for you.”

Leaving Sami engaged in her phone call, she put her hand on the handle of the door and paused just for a moment before walking in. As the door opened, Brad looked up from his computer. His face immediately relaxed into a smile that made her heart skip a beat. “Good morning,” he said, standing and walking around the desk. “What a surprise.”

“Good morning.” He gestured at his sitting area, so she perched on the edge of the couch as he took the chair across from her. “I just wanted to make sure I didn’t offend you in some way yesterday. You were relaxed and chatty, and suddenly angry and gone.”

He stared at her for several seconds before replying. “Something occurred to me. I had to go sort it out.”

She pursed her lips. “Occurred? What could have occurred to you to form such a negative reaction as I talked about architecture and what helped inspire me in my career as it pertains to your home?”

“It had nothing to do with the conversation.” He straightened an already perfectly straight arm cuff.

She waited but he did not elaborate. Impatiently she asked, “Something to do with me then?”

Brad closed his eyes and took a long breath. Finally, he said, “You did not do or say anything that upset me. I am sincerely sorry if you got that impression.”

She waited a few moments in silence. Finally, she stood. “Okay. Thanks for clearing that up.” She stepped backward and lifted a hand in a clumsy wave. “I’ll just see you later then.”

She turned and took two steps when Brad’s voice stopped her. “Valerie, wait.” When she turned, she saw him standing by the chair, his hands in his pockets. His face looked strained. “May I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“I hesitate to even bring this up.” He took two long strides toward her. Another step and he’d completely invade her space. It took willpower not to take another step back. “I couldn’t help but notice. I’ve watched your, ah, well, your ease, I guess, with Jon and Ken. Yet you appear to be uncomfortable and nervous around me. Why is that?”

She could think of a dozen different questions she expected from him, but not that. She couldn’t possibly tell him that he made her nervous and fluttery and all she wanted in the world was for him to see her as something other than some pseudo-sister. So, she lied. “Uh, hmmm,” she stammered, frowning. “I don’t know. Maybe because you’re the boss, which changes our dynamic. Maybe because our first meeting in years was in this office about business instead of casually in the café like with Jon. Maybe because they both came to me smiling and arms outstretched, and you frowned and barely shook my hand.” Lifting her chin, she said, “It could be any one of those things. Why do you ask?”

“Not sure. Curiosity, I guess. Maybe wondering what my brothers have that I don’t. Perhaps a desire to get back to the way we once were.”

“Brad, the way we were was fifteen years ago. We need to focus on the way we are, not the way we were.”

His smile covered his face and lightened his eyes. “You’re absolutely right.” He took another step toward her, and she had to lift her head to keep eye contact with him. He suddenly felt a little too close for her comfort. She started to shift her feet but stopped.

“I’d rather you didn’t think of me with the boss title. I know it’s hard, since it’s what I am, but I’d rather be a friend first.” He stepped back. “I’ll talk to you later.”

More than a little confused, she walked to the door of the office and put her hand on the handle. When she looked back at him, he was back at his desk and had the laptop open and appeared engrossed in whatever occupied the screen. Instead of saying anything else, she walked through the door and into Sami’s office.

“Hey,” Sami said with a smile, “I just confirmed dinner tonight with my friend, Calla. She’s a chef. Do you want to join us?”

She really liked Sami and felt like they could become good friends. Despite the internal knee-jerk reaction to say no so she could get home and lock all her doors, she smiled and said, “I’d like that.”

“Great! I’ll text you the details. Calla knows where all the best spots to eat are. As soon as she gets with me, I’ll get with you.”

“Thanks.” She looked at her watch. “I’m going to head down and grab a sandwich before I go back to work. Can I get you anything?”

“Nah. Thanks, though.” She tapped her desk drawer. “I brown-bagged it. Brad’s usually nonstop on Mondays, so it’s better to be prepared than wishing I’d brought something around three this afternoon.”

Valerie lifted her chin toward his office. “Is he good to work for?”

Sami grinned. “Best boss I’ve ever had. Seriously. I hope I have this job for the rest of my life.”

“That’s awesome.” As she started to leave, she paused. “Oh. What time tonight?”

“It’ll be seven or later. Is that still okay?”

Thinking through her afternoon, she nodded. “Sure. That’s better, anyway. Okay, see you later!”

The second he got into his car, Brad pulled his tie off. Another long Monday lay behind him. He felt mentally burned out and physically exhausted. The idea of driving home held absolutely no appeal.

Instead, he turned left instead of right and worked through the evening traffic. He stopped right off his exit and bought takeout fried fish and french fries with a big bowl of cold coleslaw and a bag of hush puppies. Back on the road, the smell of the fried batter filling the car, he made three more turns and pulled up in front of the first house at the entrance of a dirt road.

Ken’s truck sat backed up to the side of the house. Brad grabbed the bag of food and walked along the red dirt path to the truck. The twangy tones of country music filled the air. He found Ken in the back, pouring dry concrete mix into a wheelbarrow. Floodlights filled the back yard with artificial light and cast long shadows. Dozens of bugs attacked the hot lenses of the lights.

Ken glanced up as Brad’s shadow fell across him. Brad held up the bag. “Dinner.”

His brother wore a denim baseball cap and a gray T-shirt. He set down the half-empty bag and took the cap off, using his shoulder to wipe the sweat off his forehead. “You here to help, too?”

“Yeah. After we eat. Mind if I change?”

Ken typically built a house, lived in it while he finished the interior work, then put it on the market, moving out of one project and into his next project. This one he bought from a guy who’d run out of money while building it. He’d liked the layout, and since the shell of the house had already been built, and the plumbing and wiring installed, he basically had to finish the interior work. “First bedroom on the left.” He wiped his hands together. “I’ll eat before I mix this water.”

The inside of the house smelled like freshly cut lumber and wet paint. Ken had installed the wood floors, but they lay smooth and bare. Cans of varnish sat stacked near the stone fireplace hearth.

Since he’d been there last, Ken had installed the kitchen counters and cabinets. The appliances still had stickers and plastic on them. He walked along the line of throw rugs Ken had thrown down to protect sanded flooring and entered the first bedroom on the left. Ken’s single bed sat on top of a concrete floor. Rolls of padding and carpet lay propped against the wall. In a cardboard box, he found jeans and a T-shirt. On the floor next to the bathroom door, he found Ken’s spare work boots.

He changed quickly, then went back outside. Ken had set up the meal on the end of a wire spool the size of a bar table. Two camp chairs sat side-by-side, and obviously cold swater bottles sat perched inside the chairs’ cup-holders, sweating in the evening air.

“Thanks for the food. Your text was a welcome blessing.”

“Wasn’t ready to get home.” He piled fish and fries on a paper plate, then the two brothers bowed their heads to seek God’s blessing on the meal. He bit into a salty fry. “How much more do you have to do here?”

Ken looked around, surveying beyond the lit space. “Need to finish the flooring, paint the back bedrooms, and do some interior trim work. I have offers in for four more lots down the road. I think they’ll sell better when there’s more than one house here.” He used his teeth to rip open a packet of malt vinegar and liberally sprinkled it on a piece of fish. “To answer the original question, maybe two weeks, less if I take a couple days off work.”

Brad knew Ken did most of the work himself. Other than certified electrical and mechanical contractors, he could do it all. It gave him a bigger profit margin when it came time to sell the house. “Floors look great.”

Ken looked back toward the house. “Yeah. Buddy helped me with them last week. I need to varnish them before they get too scuffed up by my boots.”

“I can do that tonight.”

“I could use help with getting the structure of this deck set, honestly.”

The rumbling of a truck engine interrupted the evening sounds. Brad saw the flash of headlights seconds before the engine shut off, followed by the sound of a door slamming. Seconds later, Jon came around the side of the house. Like the two of them, he wore jeans and a T-shirt and a pair of brown leather work boots. Unlike the two of them, he carried a six-pack of beer from a local brewery.

“House looks good,” he said, setting the beer on the makeshift table. He pulled one out and offered it to Ken, who held a hand up and shook his head.

“When have I ever?” Ken asked rhetorically.

“Pretend it’s a near beer.”

“I. Don’t. Want. It.”

Brad took it from Jon, twisting the top off and tossing it onto the table.

Jon looked at the house. “I haven’t seen it since I left. You were buying it then.”

“‘Bout done. It was different coming in and starting with an already set frame. Usually, I put it together in my head as I’m building it and know the flooring and trim work. This one, I had to sleep in for a few nights and let it speak to me.”

Jon grabbed a camp chair out of the back of Ken’s truck and set it up then fixed himself a plate. “I’ve missed good fish and chips.” He doused his fish and french fries with malted vinegar. “I could get fish and I could get fries, but they never tasted like this.”

Brad looked at his brother as he took a sip of the cold beer. The sharp hops flavor filled his mouth, the perfect flavor to accent the fish. “I’m jealous of that trip you took. I almost offered to do a twin switch with you.”

“Dad would have figured it out by the third day I was in a tie.” Jon laughed. He ate for a few minutes before adding, “I didn’t want to go, but I’m glad I did. Things became clear to me there.”

Ken laughed and tossed his paper plate and empty water bottle into the trash can. “You say that with every mission trip, too. You never want to go but you’re always glad you did.” Brad watched Jon’s face as Ken spoke and noted the thinned mouth and narrowed eyes. By the time Ken looked at him again, his face had relaxed.

Ken walked back over to the bag of concrete mix laying by the wheelbarrow. “I just want to set the posts tonight.”

Brad took another sip of beer and finished his last two fries. “You have us both tonight. Might as well get it built.”

“Then quit loafing.”

Brad chuckled and set his half-finished beer on the table, tossed his trash, and pulled on a pair of work gloves. The three of them had spent their entire lives building together, and worked as a unified team, barely having to speak directions. Instead, they worked in silence, the air filling with the sound of saws, hammers, and the scrape of tools against wood.

As he worked, he thought about what Jon said, about things becoming clear to him in Egypt. Should he just ask outright or let him come to them when he felt ready? Brad was torn. He wanted to talk to Ken about it but didn’t want to gossip. What should he do?

A few hours later, they sat on the newly built deck. Brad’s shoulders ached from the physical labor, but his spirit felt amazing. “Feels good to work. I was getting slack the last couple of weeks.”

Ken smirked. “Not quite pencil-pushing.”

“Yeah.” Brad stretched and rubbed his face. “Except I’m not sure where a pencil is. It’s more like mouse clicking these days.”

Jon pushed himself to his feet. “As much as I’d rather hang with you two ladies, I am headed home. I have a long day tomorrow and it’s closer to midnight than I’m willing to admit.”

Brad stood, too. “I’ll follow you.” He did a quick visual sweep of the area and made sure he hadn’t left any garbage out. “See you tomorrow, bro.”

Ken lifted a hand as he unplugged the lights and immediately cast the area into darkness. Brad blinked a few times before he went inside and grabbed his clothes. When he came out of the bedroom, Ken leaned against the back door, pulling his boots off. “‘Night,” he said, and left through the front door.

Valerie pulled into her driveway at ten minutes past ten. She had not anticipated spending the evening with Sami and Calla, of having so much fun that the time just flew by, of letting the sun set around her and darkness fall over the city on a night she forgot to leave her porch light on.

She distinctly remembered turning it off that morning, knowing she’d come home about six and settle in for the night. When she’d accepted Sami’s invitation, the porch light never once crossed her mind.

Now she sat in her car contemplating driving to a hotel instead of walking up the dark drive into the dark house.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she couldn’t think about anything but that stretch of path between her porch and the car with bushes on either side. Between the bushes and the dark, someone could hide so easily. Lie in wait until she had her back to them while she unlocked her door. They could attack from behind and get her into the house, and she’d have no way to escape.

Sweat beaded her forehead. The sound of a whimper escaping her throat startled her. She gathered her purse and clutched it to her chest. With keys in one hand and the other gripping her cell phone so tightly her palms ached, she pushed open her car door and got out. The dark path loomed in front of her.

Suddenly inspired, she ripped the car door open again and reached in, flipping the headlights on. Suddenly, the path lit up. Mouth so dry she thought she would choke, she ran to her front door, lunging forward with the key. It barely found its way home before she turned the lock and ripped the door open. Once inside, she shut the door behind her and leaned against it, panting, sweating, glancing wildly around the room as she fumbled for the light switch.

With the foyer illuminated, she gripped the door handle with her hand. She had to go out there and turn the lights off. She couldn’t just leave them on. Her battery would die and then what would she do?

Replace it in the morning light.

No. No. She would go outside like a normal person and turn the lights off. She’d turned the porch light on and all the reasons for her fears would vanish in the glow.

Putting a shaking hand on the doorknob, she closed her eyes, took three deep breaths, then pulled the door open. She started to race to the car but stopped and locked the door, making sure no one could sneak in behind her while she had her back turned. Keys in hand, she raced to the car and pulled the door open. Reaching in, looking all around her, she turned the car lights off and ran back to her door.

Safely back inside, she rested with her back against the door, staring into the darkened house. She would never, ever leave the lights off again. Wanting to just curl up into a ball in her foyer, she licked her dry lips with her dry tongue and said out loud, “Do the search. Make sure no one is here. Then relax.”

Turning lights on as she went into each room, she checked corners, closet locks, behind furniture, inside cupboards, under her bed, inside the bathtub. Once she made her way into the kitchen, she thought she ought to check one more time and did another run through the house.

Finally, she sat in her living room, her back pressed against the corner wall, able to see the kitchen in one direction and the bedroom hall in another. She strained to listen, to hear the sound of another person breathing, of another heart beating. Sweat rolled down her back and her hip ached and protested sitting on the hard floor. Instead of moving, she pulled her legs up, trying to find a more comfortable position.

An hour went by, then two. Her heart finally stopped pounding, and the sweat cooled on her body. She felt foolish, stupid, more than a little insane. With shaking limbs, she pushed herself to her feet, stumbling as her hip didn’t immediately respond.

She couldn’t possibly shower. Maybe tomorrow morning, when the sun came up and the world came back into light. Maybe then. For now, she kept her keys and cell phone in her hands and went to her bedroom. After checking under the bed one more time and double-checking the lock on the closet door, she crawled onto her bed and collapsed, still fully dressed, and closed her eyes.