Page 55 of The Backup Plan

Cameron

They would have had to cuff you to a bench to keep you off your sideline.

Ethan

That’s not the point, buddy. Step away from the phone. Go lift and add a few pounds. Go do something to work it out a little bit.

And congrats on the win.

Cameron took his time piecing together his tools and workspace. He extracted the diamond-tipped bits from his kit and laid them out in a line on a rubber mat, perfectly spaced. From a hook on the wall, he grabbed an apron, then dug his goggles—prescription, since he hated the way eye protection fit over his glasses—out of his supply drawer. He set his glasses in the drawer, fitted a bit to the rotary tool, and sat down.

The soapstone was about the size of a sheet of notebook paper, and he had already sculpted most of the front row of the summer garden: pansies, marigolds, geraniums. Behind them, according to his initial sketch, would bloom wisteria, hollyhocks, and azaleas. One row further, a lilac bush and bougainvillea on a trellis. One corner of the stone was kept open for a bougainvillea blossom, if he could make some sense of the perspective for the vine.

The hum of the rotary tool and the quiet drip of water against the stone were white noise after a moment, and he dug in with the finest point to scoop out the curves of some marigold petals. He’d grown up whittling with his father, and got his first chance to use sculpting tools on wood less than a year before. Before he was done with his first project, he was hooked, and eager for new media beyond what he’d handled his entire life.

He paused, grabbed a pencil, and drew the first wisteria on the stone, behind the marigolds. With the fine-point bit, he traced the sketch, then swapped it for a thicker, rounded bit to clear out a little more depth.

He heard the door open and knew from the silence who it was. Anyone else would have said hello. On his way in, he saw her in the drawing studio, her back to the open door.

“Grab some goggles over there if you want to watch,” he said without looking up. He wasn’t sure if she heard him over the hum of the rotary until her footsteps stopped behind him.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” Avery said. “I saw you and wondered if this was the flower sculpture.”

“It is.” He drew the whirring bit across the stone, catching the tiny water droplets to cool the friction as more soapstone turned to dust. “Wisteria bushes here.”

“Are you working from a drawing?”

“A sketch. But I’ve deviated a few times already.”

“It’s beautiful.”

He worked without speaking for a few minutes, drawing branch outlines with blossoms, then digging everything down to let the front row stand out and create depth in the relief. The sculpture studio was uncommonly quiet on Sunday afternoon.

The game the day before and the chat with Hayden that morning itched under his skin. Ethan was right to tell him to put down his phone, but maybe he would have been better off at the fitness center, where he could slam things down and yell in frustration and everyone would tell him how great he was. Here, he was a lowly apprentice who had to move slowly and thoughtfully, even when his mind was jumbled.

She waited until he pulled the bit away and blew it off to speak. “What’s the water for?”

“The bits have diamond tips like sandpaper, and when they grind out the stone, they can get warm. That can cause the bits to wear down like the stone does. The water keeps it all cool.”

“You can wear down diamond bits? I thought only diamonds can scratch diamonds.”

He blew on the bit again and handed her the rotary tool. “It’s not a solid diamond. It’s like sandpaper around a block, except it’s grains of diamond on a chunk of metal. Heat breaks down the metal or adhesive.”

Avery nodded and handed it back. He brushed her hand with his as he took it, and she jerked back.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you. I just wanted to say hi, and see what you were working on. I’ve never taken sculpture classes.”

“I might be biased, but they’re the best.”

“I want to take printmaking in the spring, so I’ll have to get decent at carving linotype.”

“I’ll be happy to help you.” He held up the rotary tool and flicked it on. “If you want.”

“I may take you up on that.” She lifted her goggles, and her blue eyes met his. “Thanks for letting me watch for a bit. I’m going to get back to work.”

Cam bent forward over the table and turned the water drip back on. “You don’t have to go,” he said, touching the bit to the stone. “I mean, if you’re interested, you can watch. It doesn’t bother me.”

“You’re used to having a lot more eyes on you.”