The directness relieved her more than she expected. “Thank you.”

He nodded, as if gratitude made him uncomfortable. Rebecca set the bouquet on the table. A rose petal fell onto a thin layer of sawdust. “What exactly do you build?”

she asked.

“Whatever needs to stand.”

“That sounds vague.”

“Walls. Roofs. Foundations.” He hung his bag on a peg. “Most people look at a tall building and think its strength comes from the part they can see. Usually, the part keeping it alive is buried underground.”