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Nico, Tommy, and Nadya started unloading some of the easy-to-carry items. I opened the double doors to the carriage house and stepped aside to let them see what we were working with.

“Holy shit.” Nadya set a box down on the worktable. “Nico, this is like two times the size of your shop.”

“Language,” Tommy, the father of a two-year-old, said automatically, then caught himself. “Sorry. Habit.”

Nadya grinned. “I like this one, Nico. Can we keep him?”

“I don’t think Sarah would appreciate that.” Nico smirked as he walked slowly around the perimeter, taking in the electrical outlets, the storage, and how the light came in through the windows.

When he reached my covered workshop corner, he paused. “What’s under here?”

“Just some stuff I moved out of the way,” I said quickly. “You need this place more than I do right now.”

For a second, I almost reached for the tarp. Almost showed him my Nana’s chisels, the half-built box, to get his opinion. But it was too soon.

Nico nodded and didn’t try to look under the tarp. “We should talk about the layout. Make sure I’m not taking up space you need.”

“We’ll figure it out,” I said. “Today’s about getting you set up.”

The next two hours passed in a blur of lifting and arrangement. We found a home for every tool, piece of lumber, and the commissioned items. Nadya kept up a running commentary the whole time.

She started with my house. “You need Nico’s furniture in here ASAP,” she said, taking in the mostly empty front room during a break.

“Oh, I know.” I had a couch, a TV on the wall, and not much else. Next to anything Nico built, the stuff I’d brought from my rental looked like I was still a college student. “Why do you think Sarah sent me to him?”

Then she rounded on Nico’s tools while he was putting them away. “Why do you need three different handsaws?”

“They’re for different cuts,” Nico protested, directing Tommy and me as we positioned a table saw near the windows.

“You might have a tool addiction,” Nadya shot back.

The easy dynamic between them was the kind of friendship I had with Tommy. One built on years of shared experiences and the certainty that the other person would show up when it mattered.

Like they were doing for each other today.

“Where do you want the lumber?” Tommy asked, bringing in some of the wrapped boards.

“Against the far wall.” Nico pointed to where he wanted them to go. “And we’ll keep them covered to keep them safe.”

I stole a glance at the cherry boards set aside for my table. I ran my fingers along the edge of one. The wood was more beautiful than I’d remembered, with grain flowing like water across the surface.

“Still happy with your choice?” Nico stood beside me.

“More than happy. This is going to be gorgeous.”

“If I can do it justice.” Nico’s voice was quiet, with a hint of uncertainty. “I keep thinking about what you said about your grandmother, about furniture that tells stories. I have to deliver on that for you.”

“You will. I can tell.”

“How?”

I looked around the carriage house, taking in the careful way Nico had positioned each tool, each piece of equipment. Everything had its place, its purpose, its relationship to everything else.

“Nana taught me how to read people, too. I know you’ve got this.”

By two, the transformation was complete. Nico had a fully functional workshop.

“Thanks to all of you.” Nico looked around the workshop, and I caught the wonder in his expression. “I don’t know how to repay this.”