Because James said the committee specifically asked for you and you said no without explanation. " "Diana. " "I'm not criticizing. I'm asking. " Her voice dropped slightly. "James said you've been turning things down for over a year. Smaller jobs, solo work, nothing that requires being around people. " Marcus set his coffee down. "You called me at 7:00 in the morning to talk about my career choices. " "I called you at 7:00 in the morning because I drove away yesterday feeling like I'd said what I needed to say and left out the most important part. " A pause.
"You're retreating, Marcus, not recovering. Retreating. " "That's not You turned down the museum job because it involved 8 months of close collaboration. James told me. " "You told him you preferred independent projects. " Her voice was careful, not cruel, but precise the way she got when she'd thought something through. "Independent is a word. " "Isolated is another word. " "They're not the same thing. " Marcus was quiet. Outside the morning was already bright.
He could hear faintly movement from the house next door. Olena up early. He didn't know why that detail mattered, but his mind registered it. "I'm fine," he said. "You said that yesterday. " "Because it's still true, Marcus. " Diana's voice went quiet.
Not soft, Diana was rarely soft, but quiet in the way of something that mattered. "I wasn't the only thing that broke in that marriage. I know that. I know I was sharp with you and impatient, and I expected you to read my mind and then held it against you when you couldn't. A pause that cost her something.
I know all of that. But the thing I watched happen to you, the closing down, the pulling back, the way you stopped picking up the phone, that started before us. That was always there. I just made it worse. " He was standing very still in his kitchen. "I don't know why I'm telling you this now," she said.
"Maybe because I saw that woman on your porch and I thought if he does to her what he did to us, what I partially created and partially just witnessed, that would be a waste. " Her voice steadied. "Don't retreat from this one, Marcus, whatever it is. Don't call the walls protection when they're actually just absence. " She hung up. Marcus put the phone face down on the counter. Hank got up, walked to him, put his chin on Marcus's thigh.
"I heard it," Marcus told him quietly. He stood there for a full minute. Then he went to the workshop. He worked on the Windsor chairs, both of them, all day with a focus that was partly genuine and partly self-medication, the way he'd always used the work to keep himself from having to sit still with things that wanted his attention. His hands moved clean and certain, and by 3:00 in the afternoon, both chairs were structurally sound and ready for finish prep.
He stood back and looked at them. Good work, real work, the kind that lasted. But Diana's voice was still in the room with him. "Don't call the walls protection when they're actually just absence. He was putting the tools away when his phone buzzed.
Not a call, a text. From Elena. Thursday confirmed. Patricia wants to meet at the hotel at 10:00. Bring photos of the Chippendale secretary if you have them.
He texted back, "I have them. See you there. " 3 seconds later. Also, you okay? You've been in that workshop all day. He looked at that text for a moment.
She knew his rhythms already. Knew the difference between his normal all day workshop days and the ones where he was managing something. He didn't know whether to be unsettled by that or grateful for it. He texted back, "Diana called. I'm fine. " Longer pause this time.
Then, "Okay. Porch tonight if you want company. No pressure. " He put the phone in his pocket. He finished cleaning up. He was on the porch by 7:00.
She appeared at 7:15, book in hand, coffee in the other. She sat down in her chair. It had become her chair. He'd stopped thinking of it any other way and opened to her page without preamble. They sat.
10 minutes passed. The street went quieter as the evening settled. She said, "I retreat. " Marcus said, Elena turned the page. "Do you? " "Probably. " "Everyone retreats. The question is whether you come back. " He looked at her.
"Do you retreat? " She thought about it honestly, the way she thought about everything. "I advance," she said. "Sometimes into places I shouldn't. I move toward things before I've fully thought them through and then I have to decide whether to commit or pull back. And I usually commit because I don't like the feeling of having moved toward something and then turned around.
She paused. That has its own set of problems. Like buying a house next to a stranger. Like buying a house next to a stranger. She agreed without any defensiveness in it.
Marcus looked at his hands on the chair arms, the calluses on his palms, the stain along his right thumb from the walnut finish he'd been working with. Working hands. Hands that always had something to do. What if I can't? He stopped, started again.
What if I don't know how to be present the way you mean it? What if I understand what it looks like and I still can't? Marcus. Her voice was quiet. Stop predicting your own failure.
I'm being realistic. No. You're catastrophizing in advance so that if something goes wrong, you can say you saw it coming. That's not realism. She looked at him steadily.
That's armor. The word landed the same way Diana's had. Different shape, same weight. He didn't say anything for a moment. You're very direct, he said finally.
You can handle it. How do you know? Because you're still sitting here. She turned another page. A man who couldn't handle it would have found an excuse to go inside by now.
He sat there. She read. The evening went fully dark around them and Marcus Johnson stayed on the porch and it was the bravest thing he'd done in 3 years. Thursday came fast. The Aldermen Hotel occupied the corner of a block in Savannah's historic district, four stories of brick and iron work that had been built in 1887 and had spent the last decades declining with a kind of exhausted dignity.
The historic wing, the original structure before two additions in the 50s, was what the restoration project concerned itself with. Marcus arrived at 9:45. Elena was already there standing with Patricia Wren near the entrance of the historic wing. Patricia was mid-50s, brisk, the kind of project director who had learned that efficiency was a form of respect. She shook Marcus's hand firmly and said, "Your reputation precedes you.