Page 8 of Down Knot Out
“Briggs,” Emily says. “He and Jonah finished the siding on number four.”
Blake’s hands curl into fists. The knuckles are white where the dust isn’t smeared across them. “And they were supposed to lock up.”
“They said they did.” Emily’s tone doesn’t shift. She’s holding it together. For now.
I peer down toward the job site, where workers mill around. “We’ve got cabinets ready to hang. Can’t do that without a laser.”
“Not unless you want crooked uppers.” Blake runs his hand through his hair, mussing his bun and forcing him to redo it.
The list crinkles in my fist. “And we can’t finish floors until we sand the seams.”
“And we can’t do trim without the nail guns.” The muscle in Emily’s jaw jumps with frustration. She knows the math.
The cost of the tools isn’t what matters. They’rea drop in the overall investment. But the time… We can’t afford to lose that.
I let the silence stretch until it pulls taut. Until it hums in my teeth. Then I shove the crumpled list into my pocket. Dominic will need to file an insurance claim. Even drops add up, so anything he can recoup is worthwhile.
“Figure out whatcanbe done with what we have,” I tell them. “We’ll place an order for replacement tools and have Kyle pick them up. Hopefully, we can still do a solid push after lunch.”
“I’ll start doing an inventory and locking the tool chest myselfaftereveryone’s on the boat,” Emily says. “I’m sorry I let this slip by me.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Keep letting Briggs do it.”
Blake grunts. “Set up a camera? Catch the fucker in action?”
“Or whoever else it is.” I squint from the early morning sun. “Being on an island doesn’t mean no one can sneak over here at night.”
“Fuck.” Blake kicks a rock, and it bounces down the hill.
“I’ll hit the pawn shops around the docks, too.” Emily purses her lips. “Might get lucky.”
“Do it, but keep it on the down low,” I say. “Don’t want to spook the thief before we have evidence.”
Blake and Emily split off without another word, both heading down to the cabins, boots crunching over gravel. I watch them while I struggle to calm the thorns of anxiety threatening to hook in and ruin my day. The missing equipment nags at me, an unsolved equation disrupting the order I strive to maintain. But this will be fine. Everything will be fine.
With a deep breath, I turn away.
I trudge up the path to the Homestead, my boots scuffing dry needles loose from the earth, the sharp bite of sap clinging to the air. It’s cool right now, but the clear blue sky promises a beautiful afternoon, perfect for the picnic I have planned. I rub the back of my neck and roll my shoulders, trying to shake off the stiffness that has settled deep between them.
By the time the Homestead comes into view, my hands have stopped clenching.
I thumb the ring on my finger methodically until the tightness in my chest eases enough to breathe. I veer away from the front entrance and head for the garage. Dominic should be in the office above it. We can figure out the cost for the missingtools, and then I will put this matter from my mind until tomorrow.
Lunch with Chloe will come in a couple of hours, and I don’t want to bring the job site’s mess into our afternoon together.
Several hours later, I head out of the garage and into the kitchen through the side door. Warm air carrying the scents of cinnamon and butter wraps around me, and my stomach responds with an embarrassing growl. Good thing I’ll be eating lunch with Chloe soon.
When I come out of the back hallway, I find Holden bustling around in an apron, with flour dusting one cheek.
He gives me a worried look as he packs containers into the picnic basket sitting on the island. “Missing equipment?”
Blake had texted the group chat before I made it back to the house, so I’m not surprised Holden knows.
“Yeah.” I walk over to stand beside him.
A cooling rack on the counter holds perfect, golden cookies, and the pot on the stove bubblesaway, filling the air with apples and spices. Cider? It’s a bit warm for it, but I’m sure Holden has plans.
“Nothing too expensive, only a few thousand dollars’ worth, but a big hindrance.” I wash my hands at the sink, the hot water stinging my fingers. “Whoever did it knew what was on the project sheet for the week and what would throw a wrench into our plans.”
