Chapter 7
Tiffany sat on Mrs. Winslow’s porch and watched the McCall’s house across Shearwater Lane. Vincent was working in his garage/woodshop, finishing an ornate bedstead. He was the town’s leading custom furniture maker.
After half an hour of her sitting and watching him shape and sand, he came over and asked if she needed anything, which was nice of him. He was covered head to toe in sawdust, only the outlines of his safety goggles and dust mask were clean. It reminded her of Devin, coming to her covered in plaster dust. It also reminded her of the first time they had made love, lying beneath the first stars on her front deck. She fought the blush that was rising fast to her cheeks.
“I’m fine. I wanted to speak with Mrs. Winslow.”
“She’s usually home shortly after my wife and kids
