The confession filled the pit of her stomach with something both pleasant and disturbing. She was relieved to finally admit actual feelings for Lucas were growing like tenacious weeds in a carefully cultivated garden. But like those weeds, the feelings were undesired. They didn’t belong; their presence was a hindrance.

Kate’s gaze centered on the silver car, and she bit the tender flesh inside her mouth. What possible reason could the woman have for being down there so long? Were they still in the back? Maybe Kate could go down under some pretense.

But what reason could she have? Her mind was a blank screen. She could almost see a skinny cursor blinking on the white space, taunting her.

It would be suspicious if she went down. She never interrupted Lucas while he worked, and the last thing she wanted was to give him the pleasure of thinking she was curious about Red. Or worse, jealous.

If only she could hear what they were saying. Then she would know if anything—

She remembered something. The vents. Kate walked across the room to her old apartment, the sound of her heels muffled by the rug. The noise from the workshop carried through the heating ducts into her old living room. She remembered all the nights listening to Lucas’s sander through the vents. She’d contemplated throttling him some evenings when she wanted peace after a day of listening to people’s problems.

She walked to the vent against the back wall, where she kicked off her heels and squatted down, listening. Were they still in the workshop or had they gone back into the store? On the balls of her stocking feet, she balanced with a hand on the wall and stilled.

There were voices, barely audible. She heard the deep tones of Lucas’s voice, but couldn’t make out the words. Was that a woman’s voice she heard now? She couldn’t be sure. Kate set her knees on the floor by the register and leaned down further, pressing her palms to the dusty floor. There was nothing now, just silence.

No, there it was, a woman’s voice, too quiet to make out.

She needed to get closer. Maybe then she could hear what they were saying.

Kate glanced down at her suit, weighing the dirty wood floor against the notion of letting her curiosity go unsatisfied. Then, with a sigh, she lowered herself to the floor, lying flat on her stomach. The suit was bound for the cleaners now.

As she bent her head, her thick metal earring clanged on the vent’s louvered cover and she rose up enough to remove it, then set her ear against the cool metal surface.

There was a screech, like the sound of a chair against the concrete floor. Lucas was saying something. She stilled.

“ . . . that’s what I thought.”

Red spoke again, but Kate couldn’t make it out. Speak up, woman!