Page 20 of Omega’s Fold

There’s not a lot of doubt now that he is avoiding me. It’s no great surprise. If I were in his position, I’d be avoiding me too.

The van’s door opens. A man in a navy coverall climbs out, stretches, and pulls a ladder off the roof rack.

I set the mug down and go out to meet him. The installer waves at me as I open the porch door.

“Morning,” he says.

“Morning.” I clear my throat. “Thanks for coming out so early.”

“First job of the day.” He slings a bag over his shoulder. “You Mr. Briggs?”

“No. I’m — the guest. Julian Duffield.” It is the first time I have said the word guest about myself here. It’s not the right word but I don’t have a better one. “Mr. Briggs had to be out early. He asked me to point you at the roof.”

The installer nods, already scanning the building. He walks the perimeter, looking up. I follow him around the house, picking my way around the dew. We settle on a patch of south-facing roof above the kitchen, and he sets up the ladder and goes up.

I stand in the yard and look out at the land. Somewhere out there, Wyatt is already working. I can’t work him out. I also know I’ve never seen anyone work as hard as he does.

The second car of the morning comes up the drive shortly after. I hear the gravel before I see the vehicle, and when I turn around a dark truck is pulling in behind the van.

The back door of the house bangs open. Caleb comes out first, a backpack slung over one shoulder, a piece of toast in his mouth. Matthew follows, carrying a lunchbox.

“Bye, Julian,” Matthew says around his lunchbox, and then, without waiting for a reply, “Caleb, wait.”

“I am waiting,” Caleb says, not waiting.

“Caleb.”

“I said I’m waiting.”

“Julian Duffield,” she says. It is not a question. “Donna. Ray’s wife. We live just over the ridge.” She points.

I have no idea who Ray is, but I smile anyway and offer my hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

She takes it. Her grip is dry and firm. She tilts her head slightly. “Wyatt around?”

“He was out before I got up.”

“Mm.” She nods once, as though I have confirmed something she already knew. “That would be Wyatt.”

Behind her, Caleb is loading his backpack into the car and Matthew is stalling, poking at a patch of gravel with the toe of his shoe.

Donna turns a little, so that she is angled between me and the boys, and her voice drops to the pitch of a thing that is meant only for me.

“I’ll say a couple of things and then I’ll go,” she says. “Because nobody else is going to say them.”

“Okay.”

“You better be good to my Maggie’s Wyatt. He’s a good kid, always was. And I know he’s quiet and doesn’t say much but that’s not his fault. He always was shy.”

She is watching my face. I try to keep my face still.

“He has been doing a grown man’s job since he was Matthew’s age,” she says. “So if you are here for two weeks, Mr. Duffield, you just keep that in mind.”

There is a small sound behind her. Matthew has dropped his lunchbox. He picks it up.

She steps back half a step and raises her voice again, back to its normal working volume.

“Matthew,” she says, “in the car.”