Page 40

He started with the ash pile that had been the bar, shoveling it into the wheelbarrow. Sixteen coats of varnish. It was almost funny. He’d worked so hard on that bar. If he was being honest with himself, he hadn’t loved the layout, but he’d been grateful not to have to start from scratch, and gratitude made him careful with what he had. He’d turned it into something good.

He kept shoveling.

The floorboards came up fast. Where they hadn’t been scorched, they were water-damaged. Warped and spongy, they pulled away in long strips with little argument. He fell into the rhythm of it, the crowbar easing under the edge of each board and the whole plank popping free with a satisfying crack. He threw each board onto the pile in the corner. It was methodical work. It kept him from thinking.

Mostly.

A patterned tile floor surfaced in his mind, unbidden. Something geometric, easy to clean, the kind of floor that looked chosen rather than inherited. He savored the image for ten seconds before stashing it away. Fancy patterned tiles were expensive. He couldn’t afford them. He’d have to make do with salvaged wood. Or maybe he could paint the subfloor. He ripped up the next board.

By the time he reached the back wall he was running the numbers. Samhain was only three months out. He’d already committed to hosting the championship, and just this morning he’d heard an ad on the radio. Lucky Duck was already promoting the Samhain event at The Wildernest as a special pop-up event. He didn’t want to let Tom Horner down and he didn’t want to lose the deposit money. He’d already spent it on a round of refurbishment that was now ash. The math was dead simple, and it went like this:

If The Wildernest wasn’t ready, he lost the deposit. If he lost the deposit, he lost the tavern.

The prize money from the Boston regional event helped, but it was a drop in the bucket. After two days of planning and making calls, he now knew that repair costs were going to be considerably more than he could afford. He could do a lot of the work himself. But there were certain tasks, like rewiring, that he had to call in a professional for.

The gap between his bank account and what he needed to spend was a chasm. It made his stomach spasm to think about it.

He swung the sledgehammer at a section of cracked plaster. It felt good to swing at something.

Back on the circuit, then. It was the only way he could do it. Stay busy, stay lucky and save. The math wasn’t very complicated if he factored in two trivia nights a week. He just had to win every tournament he entered between now and Samhain and make sure not to spend a penny more than he needed to.

He felt like he could do it.

It was true that in the past during the season, he’d spent every spare hour on the road studying. He’d crammed like there was a difficult exam coming, even though there was never really a difficult exam coming, not for him.

He wouldn’t have time to study this time around. Every hour he wasn’t competing would have to be spent working here in the tavern. But Dan wasn’t too worried. The answers always came to him when he needed them. That had never been an issue.

Crack! The scorched plaster crumbled as the sledgehammer made contact.

The numbers didn’t reconcile easily. But it wasn’t impossible either. He kept working. What else was he going to do?

He was still taking out his frustration on a stubborn section of wallboard when he heard the front door creak open.

“You in here, Dan?” a familiar voice called out. Sara had let herself in. She had a small vase of daffodils in one hand. “I brought these over for you as a pick-me-up. Daffodils symbolize hope and resilience,” she said.

Leni was beside her, holding her mother’s hand. The child’s eyes were wide as she took in the damage and destruction. No doubt she was comparing it to her own former home.

“We won’t stay long,” Sara said. She looked around The Wildernest with an appraising eye. “The coven finished clearing out all the ash on my side this morning and we all gave the entire interior of the shop a good scrubbing,” she said. Dan saw there was a streak of soot on Sara’s forehead. “I can’t believe it, but I’m down to bare brick walls on our side. I kind of love it. I always wanted brick walls in the shop.” There was something bright in her voice, not forced. Hopeful, even. She had a plan, he suspected. Sara was the sort of person who moved fast once inspiration struck, and she was inspired. “Roger from the pet store has offered to help us rebuild the counters and displays. He’s got some great ideas for optimizing space. He thinks he can build me a much bigger worktable with pullouts for supplies.”

“Oh? Is that so?” Dan raised an eyebrow and smiled knowingly. It had not escaped his notice how often their neighbor stopped by Sara’s shop. There was certainly nothing wrong with a single dog-dad buying non-toxic bouquets for himself every other day. But Dan suspected that Roger was fonder of Sara than he was of her glorious tea roses.

Sara blushed.

“Roger might be able to help you out too, he’s handy. We could share some of the lumber costs. He’s helping me repurpose some of the items that weren’t destroyed.”

“We’ll see.” Dan waved noncommittally. He lifted the sledgehammer and let it fly. This time the plaster caved inwards, revealing a sunken space. Dan stared at the dark interior of something that had been sealed for a long time. There were signs of char there too, but it wasn’t recent.

Leni let go of her mother’s hand. The child sneezed and took a cautious step toward Dan.

“Careful, Leni!” Sara cautioned.

“She’s okay,” Dan said. He set the sledgehammer down. “I’m done battling this wall for now.”

“What’s that hole in the wall?” Leni pointed at the cavity.

He softened his tone and held a hand out to Leni. “Come here and see what I found. Just watch you don’t trip over anything.”

“There’s rocks in there!” Leni exclaimed when she reached his side. They both kneeled and peered into hole.