Lily was sitting on the edge of her bed with her knees drawn up to her chest.

She looked at the carved drawer pulls and the matching wooden bench we slid underneath.

“You got it done?” Lily asked.

“Mark helped me sand the top three times,” I said.

“The oak came off that old busted cabinet in the shop.”

Lily climbed off the bed and went over to the window.

She ran her hand across the polished wood, letting her thumb follow the natural grain near the corner.

“It doesn’t wobble one bit,” Lily said.