Frank did the roof in three days. It’s a good roof. I sit out back sometimes and look up at it and think about Raymond keeping every scrap of paper in that file cabinet, and how annoyed I used to be, and how that survey is the reason I could fight back.

I don’t know. I’d trade the whole thing, the roof and the win and every line item, to have him back arguing with me about the thermostat. That’s the truth. The board still hasn’t ruled on Dale. These things take a while. Some days I check the mail hoping for news, and some days I forget I’m even waiting. I priced his entire scheme down to the penny, and I still can’t price what it costs to sit at that table alone. I don’t think there’s a number for it.