“You clamp it down tight?” I asked.

“Twelve hours in the heavy iron clamps,” Mark said.

“It’s sturdier now than the day it left the factory.”

I ran my palm across the smooth oak top of the vanity.

Pale sawdust dusted the toes of my leather work boots and sifted into the dark creases of my work pants.

“She’s going to love the little silver mirror on the drawer front,” Mark said.

“She’s been keeping her hairpins in a cardboard shoebox on her dresser for six months.”