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“Hardware stores are interesting.”

“You have never once found a hardware store interesting.”

“I find this one interesting,” Becca said, and pushed the door open.

The bell rang with its lower functional tone.

Doug looked up. He looked at Allison, then at Becca, with the pleasant assessment of a man who had worked a counter for twenty-five years and was very good at reading arrivals.

“Ms. Hayes,” he said. “And...”

“Her sister,” Becca said. “We’re just looking.”

“Take your time,” Doug said, in the tone of someone who was very entertained and not showing it.

They moved through the store (Becca with the bright focus of someone who had committed to finding hardware stores interesting and was seeing it through) and Allison kept her eyes on a display of work gloves with considerable effort.

The workshop door opened.

Shane came out with a short length of lumber and saw them and went still for half a second, which was the Shane equivalent of a full stop.

He looked at Allison.

He looked at Becca.

He looked at Allison again.

“Ms. Hayes,” he said.

“Hi,” she said, with the composure of someone who had not been standing in front of work gloves thinking about him for the last four minutes.

Becca said nothing, which was the loudest thing in the room.

Shane set the lumber on the counter. He looked at Becca. “Shane,” he said.

“Becca. Allison’s sister.” She gave him the smile she had for people she was assessing and finding interesting. “I’ve heard a lot about Merrybrook.”

Something moved in his expression, barely. “Good things, I hope.”

“Exclusively,” Becca said.

A pause. He looked at Allison. The look lasted the fraction of a second too long, not long, just enough, the kind that had something in it, and Becca was absolutely clocking it and Allison absolutely knew Becca was clocking it and the whole thing was very calm on the surface and absolutely not calm underneath.

“If you need anything,” he said.

“We’re fine,” Allison said.

He nodded. He went back to the workshop. The door closed.

The store was quiet except for Doug’s pen on the inventory sheet.

Becca turned to Allison.

Allison turned to the work gloves.

“Nothing to know,” she said.

“I didn’t say anything.”