Chapter 133

Nolan showed up by the coffeehouse for his morning date with Annie slightly crabby. He’d been back home in his workshop basement, locked safely away from the fearless nephew foursome, working on his new bedside table, today cutting pieces for the drawer. He wasn’t the world’s most gifted cabinetmaker, but he loved the work, the precision of measuring and cutting, the smell and feel of the wood, the satisfaction of working with his hands. He’d forgotten the way he could lose himself in the pleasure of the job. Why couldn’t work be that way all the time?

Some aspects of returning to regular full-time work at the security firm appealed to him— he wasn’t the type to be happy dithering around for the rest of his life—but losing the freedom to create wasn’t one of them.

A woman carrying a whipped-cream-topped beverage bumped his arm. Not Annie.

Fifteen minutes earlier, he’d been absorbed in the work, totally unaware of time passing, when Maria called down asking him to