On Tuesday Felix was offered the library tables, and the first thing I did was count the evenings I would lose to them.
It was a mean way to greet good news. I did not say it aloud. I said, “They chose your drawings?”
“They chose the price as well.” He was standing in my shop with a paper folder under his arm, trying not to look pleased until I had finished asking sensible questions. “Four tables. They want one of them low enough for the children who use the room after school. I need to make another drawing before they sign off on it.”
“You’ll make it beautiful.”
“They’ll use it. That’s the part I want.”
He had already marked where the chairs would fit around the lower table. I wanted to take the folder from him and spread the drawings over my cutting table. I wanted him to…
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