Brazen Virtue

it finished, down to the curtains on the window. Priscillas in blue, tied back so the sun would stream in. It was easy for him to see it, just as it was easy for him to see her there.
    “I’m thinking about putting in a couple of skylights.”

    “Really?” Grace walked over to the bed, sat down, and craned her neck. “You could lie here and watch the stars. Or on a night like this, the rain.” That would be nice, she thought as she looked up at the unfinished ceiling. It would be lovely to sleep, or make love, or just daydream under the glass. “If you ever decided to take your trade to New York, you could make a fortune remodeling lofts.”
    “Do you miss it?” Rather than look at her, Ed busied himself taping a seam.
    “New York? Sometimes.” Less, she realized, than she’d expected to. “You know what you need over there? A window seat.” From her perch on the bed, she pointed to the west window. “When I was a little girl I always thought how wonderful it would be to have a window seat where you could curl up and dream.” She rose and flexed her arms. It was funny how quickly unused muscles got sore. “I spent most of my time hiding out in the attic and dreaming.”
    “Did you always want to write?”
    Grace dipped into the bucket of compound again. “I liked to lie.” She laughed and smeared the mudlike mixture over a nailhead. “Not big ones, just clever ones. I could get out of trouble by making up stories, and adults were usually amused enough to let me off lightly. It always infuriated Kathleen.” She was silent for a minute. She didn’t want to remember the bad times. “What’s that song?”
    “It’s Patsy Cline.”
    Grace listened a moment. It wasn’t the kind of music she would have chosen, but it had an edge she liked. “Didn’t they make a movie about her? Sure they did. She was killed in a plane crash in the sixties.” She listened again. The song sounded so alive, so vital. Grace wasn’t sure if it made her want to smile or weep. “I guess that’s another reason I wanted to write. To leave something behind. A story’s like a song. It lasts. I guess I’ve been thinking more about that lately. Do you ever think about that, about leaving something behind?”

    “Sure.” More lately as well, he thought, but for different reasons. “Great-grandchildren.”
    That made her laugh. Compound slopped onto the cuff of her sweater, but she didn’t bother to wipe it off. “That’s nice. I guess you’d think that way, coming from a big family.”
    “How do you know I have a big family?”
    “Your mother mentioned it. Two brothers and a sister. Both your brothers are married, even though Tom and …”—she had to think back a moment—“Scott are younger than you. You have, let’s see, I think it’s three nephews. Made me think of Huey, Dewey, and Louie—no offense.”
    He could only shake his head. “Don’t you ever forget anything?”
    “Nope. Your mother’s holding out for a granddaughter, but no one’s cooperating. She’s still hoping you’ll give up crime and join your uncle’s construction firm.”
    Uncomfortable, he picked up a piece of corner bead and began hammering it in. “Apparently you two had quite a conversation.”
    “She was auditioning me, remember?” He was blushing, just a little, but enough to make her want to hug him. “Anyway, people are always telling me intimate details of their lives. I’ve never known why.”
    “Because you listen.”
    She smiled, considering that one of the greatest compliments. “So why aren’t you building condos with your uncle? You like to build.”
    “It relaxes me.” Just as the Merle Haggard number playing on the radio now relaxed him. “If I did it all day every day, I’d be bored.”
    She caught her tongue between her teeth as she slopped compound down a seam. “You’re talking to someone who knows just how boring police work can be.”

    “It’s a puzzle. You ever do jigsaws when you were a kid? The big twenty-five-thousand-piece jobs?”
    “Sure. After a couple of hours, I’d cheat. It would drive everyone crazy when they found out I’d torn off the end of a piece to make it fit.”
    “I could spend days on one and never lose interest. Always working from the outside to the core. The more pieces you put in, the more detail; the more detail, the closer you are to the whole picture.”
    She stopped a moment, because she understood. “Didn’t you ever want to go right for the heart