Chapter 79 - The Drawer That Wouldn’t Open
Ava came home the following weekend.
Her visit had already been planned.
Still, when she arrived carrying work clothes, Hannah gave her a look.
“You’re allowed to visit without earning it.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Ava put down the bag.
Then she hugged her mother.
They stayed that way long enough for the question to find its answer.
At the workshop, a specialist had assessed the bench.
Some parts could be retained.
Others needed careful repair or replacement.
There would be work to do after the immediate drying and damage assessment were complete.
Daniel explained the findings while Ava listened.
She asked questions.
Took photographs where permitted.
Then she examined the drawer that had refused to open.
“Can I try anything?”
“Not until we agree on the approach.”
She nodded.
A year earlier, she might have heard that as doubt.
Now she put away her tools and asked what she could help document.
Nico came with me that afternoon.
He had brought a drawing.
A proposed replacement for the damaged drawer front.
Nothing elaborate.
A clean surface with room for the original plaque if it needed to move.
He stood near Ava while she examined it.
“You made this?”
“Yes.”
“Can you explain the measurements?”
He began.
Slowly at first.
Then faster, pointing out what Daniel had helped him check.
Ava listened without finishing his sentences.
When he stopped, she asked one question.
He studied the drawing.
“I didn’t think of that.”
“Neither did I until somebody asked me last month.”
He looked relieved.
Later, Hannah joined us.
The bench had been moved to a safer, drier part of the building.
Without its tools and surrounding activity, it looked smaller.
She placed a hand on the wood.
Ava stood beside her.
“I wish he could show me what to do.”
Hannah looked at her daughter.
“So do I.”
There was no useful answer beyond that.
Daniel gave them space.
I took Nico to collect the drawing from the table.
As we left, he glanced back.
“Is Ava good at fixing things now?”
“She’s learning a great deal.”
“Will she stop needing Daniel?”
I considered the question.
“She may need him differently.”
He nodded.
That evening, Ava helped us prepare dinner.
She explained something she had learned about diagnosing a fault before replacing parts.
Nico listened closely.
When she finished, he asked whether she could look at his model.
“After dinner,” she said.
May you like
He accepted that.
For once, nobody seemed to mistake waiting for being forgotten.
