“Judy called the billing desk at the hospital this morning,” I said, peeling a loose strip of green paper off the wall.

“She asked if we needed a set of secondhand winter curtains for our rental.”

Nate set his heavy staple gun on the top step of the ladder and paused.

“What did you tell her?” he asked.

“I told her our windows were fine,” I said.

He climbed down three rungs and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his flannel shirt.

“We’re not telling them one word about this house until every single wall switch works,” Nate said, his voice dropping into the slow, deliberate pause he used when his mind was completely made up.