Chapter Fourteen
“You should have seen the way she handled him,” said Sid.
He was several feet below Nick, in the front garden of an old colonial home, restoring a nineteenth century oak door which was resting on two wooden props.
“After you went, Jason thought she was his for the taking, the smug prick.”
Up on his platform, Nick stopped scraping away at the weathered fascia and looked across the expansive lawn. It was a beautiful clear, early summer morning, the sun warm on his back, and a refreshing breeze rustling the trees.
He had been working steadily, carefully cutting out the rotted wood whilst staying true to the ornamental design of the original, long-dead carpenter. He had been working on auto-pilot, while his mind went over the things Lucy had told him the previous night.
