The door opened before he could knock.
“Good timing, dawn is close.” The social worker smiled as she stepped back. “Your sweatshirt’s in the kitchen.”
The female was just what you’d expect someone in her line of work to be, motherly, kind, soft-spoken. Shoot… what was her name? He’d been told a couple of times, but he always forgot it. He did remember her blue jeans, though. Wrangler. Not a brand he was familiar with—but like he knew anything about clothes?
“Thank you so much…” He returned her smile as he came inside—and hoped she didn’t catch his forgetfulness. “Oh, wow, smell the chocolate chip cookies.”
“They’re right out of the oven,” she said. “Every night, just like clockwork.”
As Nate walked through the living area, he could hear footsteps up on the second floor. They were heavy. A male’s.
“Has someone else moved in?” While he frowned at the ceiling, he reminded himself it wasn’t his house—and then straightened a throw pillow on a couch and tried to be casual about it. “Sounds like you have another resident.”
“We have a new one, yes.” The social worker went ahead into the gray-and-white kitchen and stopped at the inset desk by the eating table. “Here it is.”
His sweatshirt had never been treated so well. The thing was folded neatly, and as he took it, he could smell fabric softener.
“Thanks.” He glanced over to the stove, at the lines of cookies cooling on racks. “You know, those Toll Houses look great.”
“Help yourself.” The female headed over to the cupboard and took out a plate. “I always make a full batch even though there’s just three of us here. Old habits, you know. From Safe Place. Milk?”
“I’d love some. Shuli would, too.”
“Have a seat and I’ll wait on you guys.”
Pointedly ignoring his buddy’s double take, Nate pulled out one of the chairs and sat down at the table. Like the rest of the house, everything in the kitchen was neat as a pin, the stainless steel stovetop sparkling, the sink free of dirty dishes, the granite counters clear except for the cooling cookies.
So yeah, nothing he could volunteer to fix or tidy up or help with.
“Actually,” Shuli said with a gleam in his eye, “I am feeling a little peckish. I’ve been working out.”
“Oh?” The social worker—God, what was her name?—put the plate she’d layered with Toll Houses on the table and turned away for glasses. “Where have you been exercising? And what kind of stuff are you doing?”
Nate narrowed his stare at Shuli, the universal signal for “don’t you fucking dare bring up your fucking.” Shuli made googly eyes in return, but at least he didn’t go there.
“We have a home gym,” was all he said as he took a cookie and bit off half of it.
Home gym, Nate’s ass. Shuli’s mansion had a D1 football team’s worth of equipment and floor space. He got points for not bragging, though.
“These are amazing,” Nate said as he tried one of the cookies. “No nuts.”
“Just like you,” Shuli whispered.
Nate flipped the guy off on the side, then he leaned out and tried to see through to the back hall. You know, just in case somebody had walked in from the garage. Even though no doors had opened and closed.
“That’s really convenient.” The social worker put a milk carton back into the fridge. “We’d love to add one off the garage here, but we don’t have the funding quite yet.”
Crap, what were they talking about again, Nate thought as he glanced into the living room.
“Exercise can really help with mood and feelings of mastery,” the social worker continued. “It’s an important component to health and recovery—”
“Gym,” Nate blurted.
The female laughed. “Yes, I wish we had a—”
“We’llbuilditforyou.” As her brows went up and she stopped in mid-delivery of the glasses of milk, Nate forced himself to slow down. “We can totally build one here for you.” He nodded at Shuli. “He was just saying the other day that he wanted to do something charitable for the community with his allowance.”
“I was?” Shuli said around a bite.
“And he and I’ll do the construction work for free.”
“We will?”
Nate shot his buddy another look. “Our foreman, Heff, can draw up the plans and give us a deal on the supplies with his contractor’s discount. We can work here on our off days.”
The social worker put a hand to the base of her throat and her eyes shimmered with gratitude. “You guys… that would be so kind. But are you sure?”
Nate nodded as if they’d sealed the deal with a blood pact. “It’s our pleasure.”
“It is?” Shuli muttered.
* * *
Out behind the farmhouse that smelled like chocolate chip cookies, Rahvyn walked through the meadow, the grasses and wild flowers yet to kindle, the acreage still scruffy and barren of life from winter’s cold embrace. As she zeroed in on the far-off wood line, she thought of her arrival in this place and time. Her trajectory had been off. She had had to visit a few other finite folios before she’d gotten it right.