I had dragged Greg’s heavy steel tool cabinet away from the pegboard wall and slid the bottom drawer open until its metal runners clicked in the dark.

“What are you doing back here in the cold?” Lynn asked, setting the warm dish on the wooden workbench beside a box of brass screws.

“He took his socket wrenches,” I said, shining a penlight into the back of the metal drawer.

“He took his torque set, but he left his whole accounting folder behind.”

“Claire, people take tools when they move into an apartment,” Lynn said, adjusting her silver bracelet again.

“You need to come inside, wash your hands, and eat something.”