Darla said with an apologetic smile, handing over the long-awaited book on historically accurate woodwork and trim. “I swear, I sometimes think they send those special orders by mule train.” “No problem. This book is worth the wait.” Brown eyes alight, Barry Eisen flipped through the pages and then stabbed an enthusiastic finger at one of the full-color photos. A faint cloud of plaster dust wafted from the sleeve of his gray hooded sweatshirt and onto the page. “Take a look. We’re not talking about your basic home improvement store wainscoting here.” Darla smiled but took a prudent step back to avoid a similar dusting. Apparently, Barry had worn this garment on the job site recently. The flannel shirt in shades of black and yellow under it, however, appeared freshly laundered, and his jeans were crisp enough that they probably had come starched from the dry cleaner’s the day before. Obviously he hadn’t been by the brownstone yet that morning.
