Jess said, angling her head a little to the side as she surveyed our handiwork. There was sawdust in her hair and on her cheek. “What do we think?” “I don’t know about you,” I said, “but I think it’s pretty cool.” And it was. We’d surveyed the study and come up with a design that was half reading table, half bookcase. The bookcase part was about two and a half feet tall, with two shelves back-to-back, facing outward—a mini his-and-hers mini-bookcase, essentially. Then we’d bought a nice plank of oak, beveled the edges, sanded it within an inch of its life, and attached it on top to create the table part. We’d drilled a hole at the back of the oak into which we were going to install a double goose-necked lamp after we stained the wood. It looked pretty neat, actually, and I regretted not taking Jess up on her original offer to build me one. “Mmmmmm,” she hummed. “I don’t know. Something’s missing.”
