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smiled faintly. “They’ll order anything anyone around here wants. We used to have a catalog store, but that closed. Miracle of the internet.”
    â€œWhere do I find a tape measure?”
    He found it in the kitchen drawer she had directed him to and returned with it and the memo pad and pen from the fridge. He measured the frame, made notes about how it bolted to the bed, then joined her in wiping down the wood. At last she sat on the edge of her bed, holding her stomach and laughed. “That felt good!”
    â€œYeah? Somehow I think you need to tell that to your back.”
    â€œHow did you guess?”
    â€œBecause mine would have been aching after being bent over all that time.” He stepped back and looked at the crib. “It’s a very nice piece of furniture.”
    â€œJohnny’s grandfather built it for him. Carpentry was his hobby.”
    â€œA great heirloom then.” He looked again at the springs. “You know, I should probably take this back downstairs and work on it with some oil and rust remover. Maybe it doesn’t need to be replaced.”
    She shook her head. “I want new springs if I can get them. Babies bounce when they get old enough to stand. I wouldn’t trust it.”
    â€œFair enough,” he agreed, and carted it back down to the basement. He could also put some wood slats in place to replace the springs, he thought. Peg them in so they couldn’t slip out.
    But why was he even thinking of such things? He had no place here, and no sense of how long Marisa would tolerate him. Worse, with every passing hour he was building the wall of lies higher.
    Sometimes he just hated himself.
    When he got back upstairs, he found Marisa in the kitchen. She was nibbling on some carrots, and a plate of them sat at the center of the table as if in invitation to him.
    â€œMind if I get some coffee?” he asked.
    â€œHelp yourself. Make fresh if you want. And thanks for your help with the crib.”
    â€œNo big deal.” He filled a mug and sat across from her. She appeared pensive, so he waited for her to speak.
    â€œYou know, I don’t want to use springs in that crib at all. I shouldn’t need them. They look dangerous to me, and my friends all have mattresses that just sit on brackets around the outside of the crib.”
    He summoned a mental picture. “That would work. I could add some more brackets for you easily enough. The way it looks now, you only have four of them.”
    She nodded thoughtfully. “I’d need them all the way around so the mattress is higher. You know, so fingers or hands couldn’t poke out.”
    â€œEasy enough.”
    Then she smiled faintly. “And that’s part of the reason for crib bumpers, I guess.” A little shake of her head. “I need to get on the stick about this, don’t I?”
    â€œYou’ve got a little time.”
    â€œNot a whole lot.” She held out her hand. “Pad? Pen?”
    He’d forgotten he’d tucked them into his breast pocket and turned them over immediately.
    â€œSo, hardware for angle brackets and screws, right? Say eight of them?”
    â€œMaybe twelve. And they should be wide, not too narrow.”
    She wrote. “Then mattress, bumpers, sheets, blankets...” Her voice trailed off. “I let this go too long.”
    â€œYou’ve still got time, right?”
    â€œAnother ten weeks.”
    â€œThat’s plenty,” he said bracingly. “Your friends and I will help if you let us.” Then he took a leap into a potential briar patch. “I don’t like those basement stairs of yours.”
    She looked up from her writing. “Why?”
    â€œToo narrow, and the railing isn’t sturdy enough. “You shouldn’t be climbing them right now, but with a baby in your arms or on your hip...” He let it hang, and braced for her justifiable anger. Just who the hell did he think he was?