Luke’s barn or workshop or whatever you call it is incredible. The space is huge, cavernous, and the ceilings must be twenty feet high, with old wooden beams crisscrossing over our heads.

There’s furniture everywhere, some of it half completed, and power tools that look like they’d be more than capable of slicing off your arm if you weren’t careful.

I glance down at Ally. She’s wheeling forward quickly, trying to take everything in, hanging off Luke’s every word. I shake my head and smile. I haven’t seen her like this since … well, since before she had to get the chair.

I squeeze Trent’s hand.

“Thanks for bringing us here,” I say.

He smiles down at me. “My pleasure.”

We follow Luke as he shows off the different pieces he’s working on — the wishbone chairs, the live edge coffee tables, the three-drawer nightstands. Trent squeezes my hand and winks when Luke shows us the updated wingback chair he’s come up with, but otherwise he seems to get more agitated as we go through the space.

“This is amazing,” I tell him, trying to distract him from whatever is bothering him. “Why don’t you showcase this stuff more? You could have pictures of the workshop in the catalog, show Luke’s designs and all this in-progress stuff. People would love that.”

Trent smiles tightly but doesn’t answer.

We all stop walking as Luke pauses in front of a huge dining room table.

“This piece,” he says proudly. “This piece is going to be the center of the collection.”

It’s a farmhouse table, big enough to comfortably seat ten, and the top surface is a weathered grey wood. The spindled legs, however, are black iron.

“I had to find a local metalsmith to weld these for me,” he says proudly. “But I love the contrast between the metal and the wood. The play on the farmhouse esthetic.”

Trent runs a hand through his hair and lets out his breath in a huff.

“A metalsmith? Seriously, Luke? I thought we talked about this.”

Luke shrugs and I look back and forth between them.

“I think it’s beautiful,” I offer and Ally nods.

“That’s not the point,” Trent says. “The point is we can’t afford fucking metalsmiths. I told you we need to move towards keeping the collection more affordable — to produce and to sell. How much do you think we’d have to price this at to make any profit?”

“So we price it higher,” Luke says, with a shrug.

“Right. And then everyone goes to Ikea and buys the Jorgenblorg-whatever because it’s only eighty bucks.”

Ally and I glance at each other.

“Maybe we’ll just go wait outside,” I say. We hurry towards the front of the barn.

“You know the company is in trouble,” I hear Trent saying. “We just can’t afford your design whims anymore. I don’t want to have to start outsourcing this stuff but I will if I have to.”

Ally and I duck out of the barn and close the door behind us. I give her an awkward smile.

“Sorry. I had no idea things were that tense.”

“Don’t worry. It was still really cool getting to see the workshop.”

We wait outside for a while. We can still hear their raised voices but not exactly what they’re saying. Eventually we end up wandering around the property, just to have something to do.

Finally we see Trent coming up over the field towards us. He’s got a smile plastered on his face but I know him well enough now to know it’s not real.

“Sorry about that,” he says, trying to sound casual. “Just a little business disagreement. Comes with the territory.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I say, squeezing his hand.

“Luke’s had some lunch brought in if you ladies are hungry?”

Ally and I glance at each other. “Sure.”

We head back towards the house. Luke is already lugging food out of the house and setting it on a picnic table around the side. Trent heads in to help him and by the time they’re done, they’ve put out a full feast — fried chicken, potato salad, tiny little ears of corn.

We all sit down at the picnic table and Ally pulls her chair up awkwardly to the side.

“There’s never a good way for me to sit at these,” she says, apologetically.

“I’m sorry,” Luke says, looking embarrassed. “I didn’t even think of that. Would you prefer to eat inside?”

“No, that’s okay.”

Trent glances at me, as if for confirmation, but I know Ally hates it when I baby her, so if she says it’s fine, it’s her decision. I give my head a small shake and Trent nods.

We set about eating, and the food is delicious, but the icy silence between Luke and Trent stretches out, and I can tell Ally isn’t really comfortable trying to eat at the picnic table. I’m glad when it’s finally time to leave.

We say our goodbyes and Trent drives Ally and I back to the city.

At the apartment he holds the door open while Ally wheels inside. I stay out on the sidewalk with him for a minute.

“Do you want to come up and have a coffee or something?” I ask. I feel a little weird asking him that, but he seems so out of sorts that I feel even worse letting him just go home like this.

But Trent shakes his head. “I’m kinda tired, actually.”

“Okay. Sure.” He doesn’t look tired at all but I already know him well enough to know there’s no point in arguing with him.

He leans in and kisses my cheek. “I’ll talk to you soon?”

“You know where to find me.” I watch him drive off in the SUV and then I push open the building’s glass door and join Ally inside.