She gave her head a mental shake. Now wasn’t the time to contemplate things that were out of her control. What was in her control was helping Ethan figure out what was left to do to finish the bakery and calculate how much it would cost.

For what felt like the longest time, she followed Ethan around the room. With the windows papered over, only the newly installed can lights shed light on the room. He would measure and write. Measure and write. She felt as though she should be doing something, but she had no idea what that might be. And so she remained quiet and offered a helping hand when he needed assistance measuring or moving things out of his way.

When he at last sat down on the floor and leaned back against the wall, she couldn’t take it any longer. “So what do you think? Is it doable? Can I open before Easter?”

He patted the dusty floor next to him. “Come sit.”

She eyed up the dirt and resisted the offer.

He glanced down at the floor, swiped his hand over it, like that was going to do anything to clean up the mess. “Sit. And we will talk.”

With great reluctance and an aversion to dirt, she sat down. “How long do think this will all take?”

His brown gaze met hers and he smiled. “Did anyone ever accuse you of asking a lot of questions?”

“All the time. I have an older brother.”

He nodded in understanding. “I don’t have any siblings. I always wanted a brother, but it wasn’t in the cards.”

“Strangely enough, while growing up I would wonder what it’d be like to be an only child. I guess people always long for whatever it is they don’t have.”

“You might be right about that one. Like sometimes I wonder if I picked the right profession for the right reasons.”

“You don’t like your job?”

“It’s not that. Sometimes I just wonder what it’d be like if I’d made another career choice.”

“What would you do if you weren’t a firefighter?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s just with the time off, I’ve been doing some thinking. Perhaps too much thinking.”

“Besides firefighting, what else do you like to do?”

He shrugged. “Work with my hands. Be a carpenter. Or maybe a contractor. But that’s never going to happen. I come from a long line of firefighters on my dad’s side of the family. So it is expected as a Walker that I would carry on the tradition. But on my mom’s side of the family, my grandfather was a contractor. He built a lot of houses in and around New York City.”

Hannah liked that he’d confided in her. And now she wanted to give him some helpful advice. “I’m sure your family loves you, and they’ll understand whatever decision you make about your future.”

He raked his fingers through his hair, scattering the short strands. “I don’t know why I told you all of that.”