“Look at the wear on it.

Somebody leaned on this once, hard, and never said a word about it.”

“Julian lost his keys back in the spring.”

“Twice.” He dropped the old lock into the wastebasket without looking at me.

“Once in the spring.

And again the week before the club bills arrived.”

We worked without saying much.

He set the chisel, tapped it with the heel of his hand, then with the little hammer, and I held the flashlight wherever he pointed.