He opened the door at my knock, dark circles under his eyes. “Faye, come on in,” he said, appearing unsurprised at my arrival. He returned to his desk, the surface a jumble of papers and empty coffee cups. “Sorry for the mess, I’m getting behind with the new baby.” “Of course,” I said, embarrassed I’d forgotten. He was preoccupied, that’s all the problem was. “Well, congratulations,” I said lamely. “Thanks,” he answered. “Mixed blessing,” he added quickly, nodding. “I know why you’re here”—he shuffled through his papers—“I’ve asked the ecologist to check in with you, but he’s busy for another week. I promise, he’ll come out.” He held up a scrap of paper. “Here’s our correspondence.” His conciliatory manner disarmed me. “That’s . . . great,” I said. “Did you find out about the timber markings?” “Haven’t had time,” he said, shaking his head.
