Mella would not let anyone put a chair over the mark on her floor.
“My husband stood there when the old pipe burst,” she said. “If you cover it, someone will tell me I imagined the stain.”
The mark was scarcely darker than the surrounding boards. Iven could see where hot water had washed the grain pale around its edge. He moved the chair to the other side of the table.
“No chair,” he said.
“Thank you.”
Outside her window, Neri’s crew had opened the new box. Belen supported its door while Tor fitted the second hinge pin. The shelf beneath the housing sloped toward the covered drain, leaving room for a hand to reach the latch. A small painting of a red bird hung beside the window inside. Mella had refused to move that too.
Neri came in carrying the marked drawing.
“We’ll start after the morning delivery clears,” she said. “Are you still willing?”
