He put the hammer back in the toolbox. “Nope. I don't shave my legs for anyone.”
“Well, then, can you at least tell me why I should at all need to know what a
flocculate is?”
“Sure. Sludge needs a high-molecular-weight, high-charge structured
cationic flocculate in order to be separated or dewatered.
She batted her eyes. “Oh, Peter, stop. You had me at sludge.”
Peter nodded, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Good one.”
She cocked her head up at the tree as if seeing it for the first time. “What are
you working on?”
Peter wagged his thumb towards the huge gnarled oak tree. “Taking down
the old treehouse.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Oh, no. Why?”
“Well, the tree's growing around the boards now, and if I don't remove them,
it'll probably kill the tree.”
“Really?” She frowned. “I always liked that old tree house. I used to play dolls there with my friends when you weren't around.”
Peter smiled. “I know.”
“What, really? You were spying on me?” Her eyebrows arched.
“I wouldn't call it spying. I would call it paying very close attention from a
distance. Besides, I kept finding little Polly Pocket shoes in the cracks of the floor. Pretty big clue.”
She smiled, looking down at the grass. “Well, I guess all good things come
to an end.”
It was a statement that seemed to carry more weight than it should have. He
watched as she turned, touching the rough gray bark of the old tree, looking up
at the jumble of scrap boards joined together in a crude box in the center of the
tree. The limbs of the giant oak seemed to cradle it in its arms. “Do you really
need to tear it down?”
Peter joined her. “Well, how about a last look around? Most of it's still there.
The ladder should work.” He tugged on the first couple of boards nailed at intervals up the side of the tree. Kate grabbed the first and started to climb, Peter holding her side for safety, hoping his palms weren't too sweaty. Lucky You fogged his brain a little. “Make sure they aren't loose.”
He watched her reach the top of the climb and disappear over the side.
Her head popped out a small side window. “Come on up.” She disappeared
inside again.
Peter followed, testing each board as he climbed, and soon joined her in the
cramped space. It smelled like damp, old pine. A few boards were loose, and some were even rotting, but most of the roof was still there, and the floor seemed safe. He hadn't been up here in years. No reason to until now, he supposed.
“Smaller than I remember,” he said, scootching to a place opposite Kate, who ducked her head under a branch poking through the roof.
“Pretty cozy.” She pointed at a board. “Look—there's the drawing I made of
the two of us.”
She was pointing at a sketch of two kids done in magic marker, one rail-thin
with oversized round glasses and the other in a dress. “Hmm,” he said. “I'd say I
look about the same. You look as good as always.”
She shot him a glance as if she wasn't sure if he was making a joke.
