“I think so.” Emily rose slowly to her feet. That’s when she realized her flip-flop had come off and her bare foot was wedged firmly between the piano frame and what looked like a four-person church pew that had been lying on its back under the utility table. She tried to wiggle her foot loose but only succeeded in pinning her foot more tightly. “Ouch! Dammit.” She looked across at Frank. He was picking through the broken pieces that she’d swept into the bag. “Frank, can you help me here? I’m stuck.”

Frank’s phone pinged. He slid it out of his pocket and looked at the readout, probably an alarm reminding him not to be late for the next yard sale. He smiled.

“Frank! Please? I can’t—” Emily tried to inch her foot free, but the piano frame slipped again, slamming down onto the pew and her bare foot. Emily screamed in pain and yanked her foot free. The piano frame thudded onto the concrete floor, toppling a pile of boxes to a thundering cacophony.

“Ow, ow, ow.” Emily collapsed in a heap, cradling her injured foot.

“Emmy!” Frank dropped the portfolio and rushed over, hooked her under the arms, and pulled her away from the piano frame and broken utility table. “Are you okay?”

No. Emily shook her head. Her foot throbbed.

“What were you doing down here, anyway?” he said.

“I was upstairs. I heard a crash and I came to see what happened.”

A pause. “And what did . . . happen?” His gaze shifted from the discarded broom to the bag into which she’d swept the broken pieces to the breakage freshly scattered on the floor. Then back to Emily. Gently he examined her foot. Already it had turned angry black and red across the instep.

“It hurts like hell.” She winced as she tried to flex her foot. At least it didn’t seem as if any bones were broken.

Frank helped her to her feet. She set her injured foot on the floor and applied a little pressure. No pain shooting up her leg. “You need to get some ice on that right away,” Frank said. He shoved aside the boxes on the steps to make room, then looped his arm around her waist and helped her to the stairs.

She leaned against him and climbed one step. Then another. “I heard a crash,” Emily said. “I came down to make sure everything was okay. When I saw the mess, all I did was—”

“I know. Clean. Straighten,” he said, helping her up another riser. “It’s what you do. Just like my mother.”