Julian listened, then took out a notebook. ‘I can make the first three changes by next weekend,’ he said. ‘For the lobby, we’d need to design something together.’

‘We might not want to,’ Nell replied.

‘That would be your decision.’

Milo asked whether Brightline would pay the children for any new work they contributed. Julian paused, then said yes, provided the details were agreed with their parents. Sachi said she wanted that promise put into a straightforward agreement before anyone started.

Harper looked at her with pride. She had never taught Sachi contract language. The child had learned from the experience that generosity and clarity were not opposites.

‘And the sets?’ asked Kieran.

Julian sighed. ‘They’ve been modified. I can’t restore them exactly as they were.’

‘We don’t need them restored,’ Kieran said. ‘We need you to stop talking about them as though nobody made them until you arrived.’

Julian wrote that down too. He did not ask them to forgive his company. He offered to meet with a group of parents and children the following week and review the program line by line. The children agreed to discuss it among themselves before deciding.

When he left, Odessa came over carrying an empty fruit container. ‘Was that the man from Brightline?’

‘Yes,’ Harper said.

‘Did he apologize?’

‘Not really.’

‘Will he change anything?’

‘We’ll see.’

Odessa considered this answer, then nodded. ‘I suppose that’s fair.’

Harper looked at the older woman’s cardigan. There was a small smear of orange paint near the pocket. It matched the ribbon from the garbage bag.

‘You still have paint on you,’ Harper said.

Odessa glanced down. ‘I’ve washed this cardigan twice.’

‘Orange paint is stubborn.’

‘So am I.’

They stood quietly for a moment. Then Odessa said, ‘I owe you something besides the cleaning bill.’

‘You owe the children an apology.’

‘I gave them one. But I owe you one too. I wanted to make you feel as powerless as I felt. I made your own home unpleasant because I couldn’t make you answer your door. I told myself the result would justify it.’

Harper remembered her first view of the pool: the floating bottles, the ruined cardboard sun, the old woman waiting as if anger were an appointment. ‘You could have made me afraid to let anyone into my yard again.’

‘I know.’

‘And if I had called the police?’

‘I would have told them what I did.’

Harper folded the clean cloth on the table. ‘I am not ready to invite you over for coffee.’