A man.
For a second, I couldn’t see his face.
Then he stepped beneath the garden light.
I screamed.
“HENRY?”
My husband lifted both hands.
“Hi.”
I stared at him.
“You are supposed to be four hours away!”
“I was this morning. I drove back early.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?”
Henry glanced toward a covered shape beside the shed. “That would’ve ruined this.”
Graham muttered, “I’m going inside.”
“No, you’re not.”
He stopped.
Henry looked almost guilty.
That frightened me more than anything.
“What did you two do?”
Henry looked toward Graham.
Graham nodded at something large beside the shed.
It was hidden beneath an old moving blanket.
“What is that?” I shrieked.
Henry slowly stepped toward me.
“Mercy, before you get angry…”
“I am already angry.”
“Fair.”
“Did you make some kind of deal with Graham?”
Henry winced. “Yes.”
I stared at him.
Behind us, the back door opened.
Marissa’s voice floated across the yard.
“Mom?”
All three of us froze.
She hadn’t seen us yet.
“Mari, stay inside!” I called.
“Why?”
Graham whispered, “That sounded suspicious.”
Marissa stepped onto the porch carrying a cheesecake.
“What are you doing out there?”
Henry grabbed the edge of the blanket.
“We’re out of time.”
He pulled.
The blanket dropped onto the grass.
Beneath it stood an old wooden vanity.
Cream paint.
Three little drawers.
A round mirror with a small chip near the top.
One scratch along the left corner where nine-year-old Marissa had once caught it with a metal bracelet.
I knew that vanity.
I’d bought it for her when she was six.
She used to sit in front of it singing into a hairbrush and covering herself in glitter she called makeup.
She’d make ridiculous faces at herself until we both laughed.
Years later, she carried the mirror into the garage and told Henry:
“I don’t want something in my room whose whole job is looking at me.”
I thought we’d thrown it away.
I had no idea Henry had spent weeks restoring it.
