Rudy comes up the next day, back from the Columbia River wind farms. “The geese,” he says. “It’s like pâté everywhere.”
“Like you’d know pâté.”
“I know it now,” Rudy says, holding the other end of an upper unit, adjusting till the level zeros. Taz shoots in a nail, shuffling across to Rudy’s end, shooting in another. “Barely hanging,” he says through the screws pinched between his lips. He sets down the nailer, rechecks the level, picks up the screw gun. He drives screws into each of his pre-marks, steps back, says, “You can let go.”
Rudy steps back beside him. “Damn,” he says. “I do good work.”
Taz’s smile falters. Marnie, every single step of the house, the demolition even, she’d stepped back and said the same thing. Trimming out the door casings. Hanging the picture rail. At the first ultrasound, the underwater thumping of that tiny heart, she’d smiled up at him, “Damn, I do good work.”
“Next?” Rudy says.
Marnie rubbing her hands over the first visible bump. Her eyes widening at a kick Taz had seen from the other end of the couch. The mess of water in the bed. Damn, I do good work.
“Earth to Davis,” Rudy says.
“Um,” he says. “Just door hanging now. Thanks, Rude. I got it from here.”
Rudy follows him out to the truck, grabs a door himself. As they’re carrying them in, he says, “So, Midge strapping on the tool belt. Elmo on vacation or something?”
Taz sets his door on the cardboard he’d brought in for it. “Her first day off since you left town.”
“Slave driver. But, no complaints?”
Taz says, “Who doesn’t like a day off?”
“Soooo,” Rudy says, not quite making eye contact. “Maybe I could keep the kid busy? You know, just till you get this place wrapped.”
Taz looks between Rudy and Midge. She’s wearing out, rubbing at her eyes with the back of her wrist, a chub of forearm, as close as she can get to a fist. “Yeah,” he says. “You guys could maybe go break out the rods, get working on her casting.”
“Exactly what I was thinking.”
Taz looks at him, his wool shirt, his Osprey ball cap, wings of hair curling over the edges. “She might eat,” he says. “But mostly, I think she’s just going to fall asleep.”
“Can I pick her up?” Rudy asks.
“Of course you can pick her up. Just not by the head or foot or anything.”
“Got it,” Rudy says. “So, you mind if, there’s this new girl working the Club, and, well, I was thinking if the Midge and I—”
“Maybe you could just walk her around outside a little.”
Rudy gives a low, sad whistle. “Such low ambitions. You got a blanket for her?”
“It’s under her. Everything’s all right there.”
Rudy picks her up, Midge startled for a second, then pulling at his cap. He yanks it off, puts it on her head. It slops down over her ears, her eyes. He tips it back, says, “There you are!”
She laughs, throws the cap on the floor. Points immediately for him to pick it up. He puts it on his head, tips so she can throw it back to the floor.
He gets the cap and the blanket, wraps her up. “Okay,” he says, “outside. Time to let Uncle Rude show you the wilderness.”