Jeremy didn’t answer.

He kept his palms pressed to his blue jeans, his knuckles going white under the edge of the table.

By six forty the silence in the room had stretched so thin that the scrape of silverware sounded like metal on wire.

Zane pushed back his chair and got to his feet.

“I’ve got three job sites to check tomorrow morning before seven,” Zane said.

He smoothed his tie down over the front of his shirt.