Move the Stars (Something in the Way 3)

“For what?” I asked, handing Gary a Bud. “I already have more business than I can keep up with.”

“You still need one.” When she got to the grass, she gave up and set the groceries down to remove her shoes. “I know a girl who can make you one. Get you some more sales, and then you can hire yourself employees.”

Hire more people—that was what Mr. Kaplan had said when I’d spoken to him on the phone last month and told him I was barely keeping up with orders. I didn’t see how it could work, though. I built furniture because it was my passion. I used my hands to bring my visions to life, and when I finished each piece, it was no longer mine. It saw my customers through good times and bad—births, weddings, funerals, or just plain dinner each night. Not that I was exactly happy to have missed out on being a cop like I’d planned, but I could see now that it hadn’t been my path—my passion was being strong and capable enough to help people, to bring goodness to their lives, and Lake had taught me that there were lots of ways to go about that.

“I like things how they are,” I said to Lydia. “Don’t need too much else.”

An outdoor picnic table was one of the things I had yet to finish for my place. Truth was, four years on and I was still building my own house and the things in it. In the beginning, I worked mostly to push through the guilt and shame I harbored over Lake, Tiffany, and the baby. But then one night, I’d started on cupboards and remembered how Lake had designated a place in her New York kitchen just for guest dishes. She wanted people to feel special in her home. So as I’d made myself a cabinet just for nice china, it hit me just how often Lake had been on mind as I’d laid planks, carved wood, and sanded and varnished surfaces over the years. While my body labored, my mind escaped, often into Lake’s warmth. The things she’d wanted, the pieces she’d be proud to have in her home. That was why this house had taken me so fucking long.

I set up fabric folding chairs around the fire while Henry served us burgers and hot dogs. He and Gary caught up for the first time since the wedding. Once the conversation stalled, I nodded at Lydia.

“How’s Tiffany?” I asked. Gary and I had introduced the girls, but she and Tiff had remained close since the divorce.

“She’s fine. Mostly dating and working. How are you?”

“Also fine,” I said. “Working.”

“Dating?”

I took a swig of my beer. “Nah.”

“Because that girl I mentioned is very pretty—”

“Who?” I asked.

“The one who makes websites. She’s lovely and sweet and hates drama.” Lydia curled her toes in the grass, her smile warm. “I love Tiffany, you know I do, but after her, you need someone who’ll go easy on you.”

“I appreciate it, but no,” I said. Lovely and sweet and drama-free all sounded fine, but not better than Lake. “I’m good with the way things are.”

“You keep saying that,” Lydia replied, “but we don’t believe you.”

“We?” Gary asked. “Don’t drag me into this. Although, I will agree, Heather is pretty. And I’m not just saying that to get you to meet her. She’s nice, and she’d be good for you, Manning.”

Henry and I exchanged a look. He was a simple man, who’d lived a simple life. He didn’t know about Lake, but he’d seen that I was doing work I loved, and that was good enough for now. “Sounds like you’re dragging yourself into it, Gary,” I said.

“Heather needs a good, solid man,” Lydia said. “Do it for her.”

“Wish I could,” I said. “But I just can’t.”

Henry cleared his throat. “Anyone need another beer?”

“Me,” Lydia said.

“I’ll take one,” Gary added.

I put my plate on the ground. “I’ll get them.”

I reloaded the cooler and carried it out, setting it down in the middle of the group—which had gone suspiciously quiet.

“What?” I asked, tossing Henry a beer.

He caught it and held up his hands as if to surrender.

I went to hand Gary one as well but took it back as he went to grab it. “Why do you all look guilty?”

Gary glanced between the Bud and my face, and said, “We were talking about you and Tiff. God knows we’ve heard her side of the story, but in four years, we’ve never heard yours.”

“That’s intentional. It’s nobody’s business but ours.”

“Tiffany made it our business,” Lydia said. “But we want you to talk to us about it. It’s not healthy that you’re up here all alone, taking your emotions out on helpless pieces of wood.”

“That’s not what I do.”

“She’s right, son,” Henry said.

I sat down, schooled. A couple beers weren’t enough to get me talking about my private life, even if Tiffany felt the need to. These people were my family, though. Henry had been there for me as a teen in a way nobody else had. He didn’t pester me about these things, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care. And Gary’d been like a brother to me. “You know the story,” I said. “She got pregnant, we lost the baby, and things just fell apart. We had problems before all that, and we just weren’t strong enough to take on that kind of heartbreak.” That was only part of the truth. After my time in New York, I didn’t want any woman but Lake, and I couldn’t fake it. I went back to Tiffany out of duty, but without the baby, I’d had no reason to stay.