Chapter 3

Emma was standing in the backyard with her camera in her hands. She was adjusting the focus, trying to get just the right angle on a tiny dandelion moving just slightly in a gentle breeze. Just as she had it perfect, she heard a voice call out to her from the corner of the house.

"Mrs. Hamilton?"

She pressed the shutter several times before turning and acknowledging the short, squat man walking toward her.

"You must be Mr. McWhorter."

"Billy," he said, holding out his hand as he approached.

"Nice to meet you." Emma turned toward the house, gesturing to the far, west corner of the main building. "Over here is where I'd like to build the addition."

As he followed her across the yard, Emma described her vision. "A building about 45x45, with 20x20 of that a dark room on the far side, close to that stand of trees. The other half will be a photography studio, so I want it to have as much natural light as possible. High windows with retractable shades and sky lights."

"Have you spoken with an architect?"

"I have the plans all drawn up."

McWhorter walked around the side of the house, tapping the far outside wall of the house as though looking for studs. Emma leaned against the wall, watching. He bent and looked at the ground, as though assessing it for density, or some such nonsense. Emma couldn't help the deep sense of disappointment she felt as she watched. He seemed to think he was putting on quite the show.

"It's a big job," he said with a certain amount of hesitation in his voice. "Would take six months, at least."

"Six months?"

"And at least fifty, maybe sixty thousand."

"That's a little high."

"It's a lot of work," he said again.

Emma nodded, gestured for him to continue. He waved his hands around, indicating the foundation of the house that was visible just below the pink-grey stones of the outer facade. "We would have to dig a foundation of about six inches," he began. "And bring in some filler before we lay concrete. That alone would take a month."

"The foundation should be twelve inches," Emma said.

He looked at her, his eyebrows rising slightly. "Maybe, if you want. But that would take even longer."

"Yeah, well, I'd prefer if it was built to code." Emma tapped the wall behind her. "And I assume you will have all the permits necessary before you start digging?"

He stepped back slightly. "Of course."

"That is your responsibility."

"I usually leave that up to the customer."

"Not this customer."

He pressed his fingers into his front jeans pockets. "You've had some work done before?"

Emma shook her head. "No, not really. I just happen to know how to use the internet."

McWhorter opened his mouth as though he had something to say, but then he stepped back again, his eyes moving over the tender grass being crushed beneath his feet. "We could have the whole thing done in two months. At cost."

Emma bit her lip. "You show me all the permits before you get started. And everything is according to code."

McWhorter nodded. "Of course."

Emma stepped forward and held out her hand. "Bring me paperwork on Monday and I think we have a deal."

***

"Do your homework, Seth."

"I can't do it. I need dad's help."

Emma turned from the macaroni boiling on the stove. "I can help you."

Seth shifted slightly, rubbing the heel of his shoe against the baseboard. "I want dad to help."

Emma walked over to him and touched his face lightly. He jerked away, rubbing his cheek on his shoulder as though Emma's touch had left a residue behind.

"Your dad's busy, Seth."

"I know. But he said he would help me with my math tonight."

"When?"

"This morning, in the car."

Emma nodded, silently cursing Steve. Why would he promise the kid something he knew he wouldn't be able to do?

"Can I call him?" Seth asked. "Remind him?"

Steve wouldn't like that. Emma knew it would only piss him off. But she handed Seth the phone anyway. Let Steve deal with his own mistakes.

She went back to the macaroni, stirring it in the boiling water as she listen to Seth negotiate the layer of minions between him and his father. She could tell when Steve finally came on the line because she could hear the change in Seth's voice. His tone was suddenly soft, respectful, in a way it never was with anyone but his father.

"What time will you be home?" she heard him ask. She didn't know what the answer was, but she could imagine by Seth's quiet, simple, "Oh."

"He wants to talk to you, Mom."

Emma dropped her spoon and took the phone. "Steve," she said, her voice low, controlled.

"Why are you letting him call me at work?"

"You told him you would help him with his homework."

"I'm in the middle of a meeting. Can't you handle homework?"

Emma glanced over to where Seth had been standing, but he was gone. "You'd be amazed at what I can handle, Steve. Not that you're ever here to see it."

"Don't start with me."

"So what am I supposed to do? You make a promise to our sonanother promise, by the wayand you leave me to explain why you can't keep it?"

There was silence on the other end of the line. Emma flipped off the burner under the boiling macaroni while she waited.

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Fine."

Emma pulled the phone from her ear, wishing they still had traditional, wired phones, instead of these cell phones. There was so much more satisfaction in hanging up on someone when she could slam the receiver into the base, instead of just sliding the disconnect icon across a touch screen. There wasn't even the satisfaction of jamming her finger into a solid, retractable button.

"Is he coming?" Seth asked from the doorway.

Emma turned, unaware that he had come back into the room. "He said he would try."

Seth's face crumpled. Emma went to him. This time he let her touch him, even allowed her to pull him into her arms for a hug.

"You're father loves you so much, Seth," she said, lowering herself to her knees so she could look him in the eye. "He just has a lot of work."

"But he's always working."

"I know." Emma laid her hand lightly on his chest. "It takes a lot to run a business and be mayor."

"Then why did he have to be mayor? Why couldn't he just be with us?"

She looked down at the floor, struggling to answer a question for her son that she couldn't even answer satisfactorily for herself.

"Just be patient," she finally said. "It won't always be like this."

She wished she could believe it, too.