It’s better to know, to admit it, then deal with it.”
Clare turned, watching the door open wider. And let out a long breath.
“I’d better deal, because it doesn’t look like she’s going anywhere.”
IN THE MORNING, Beckett huddled with his brothers in the laundry room. If Owen hadn’t called the meeting, he could’ve gotten another hour of sleep—maybe two—since he planned to work at home through the morning.
But Owen was Owen, he decided, and meetings and agendas were his cotton candy.
“The electrician’s coming in this morning to install the exterior lights here, and the new interiors over at the gift shop. The boxes are marked, but you need to double-check the fixtures, Beck. And before you ask why,” Owen continued, “we’ve got close to two hundred light fixtures between here and across the street. We don’t want to waste time, money, and man-hours switching something out if it got mis-marked.”
“Fine. I’ll do it before I go over to my office. And before you ask, yes, I have my checklist.”
“While you’re at it . . .” He added a half dozen tasks and calls to Beckett’s list.
“What the hell are you doing while I’m on the fucking phone?”
Owen turned his clipboard around. The length of the list shut Beckett up.
“Why aren’t you giving a chunk of that to the innkeeper?” Ryder asked.
“Because we’re giving her a couple days to move in, for God’s sake. She’ll earn her rent next week, believe me.” Owen flipped a page on his clipboard. “That’s a list I’ve started for her. While I’m installing the counter across the street, what’s your plan?”
“Two men over there, punching out.” Ryder checked his own list. “When it opens, they’ll go pick up the desk Mom settled on down at the flea market, haul it up to the office there. Exterior painting continues, probably forever, and I’m going to have them start inside, get going on The Lobby since the floor’s done.”
He ran it down while Beckett drank his coffee, and the radio switched on to country rock with the crew’s arrival.
“Mom’s got an appointment in Hagerstown,” Owen reminded them. “So she’ll swing through on her way home. Tell the crew the big boss is coming in. That’s all I’ve got.”
“Thank Christ.”
When Beckett yawned, Ryder smirked. “Babysitting wear you out last night?”
“Is that code for sex?” Owen wondered. “I need to be updated if we’re using codes.”
“No, it’s not a code, and no, it didn’t wear me out. I just didn’t get a lot of sleep. Probably since babysitting isn’t code for sex.”
Ryder kept smirking. “She have a headache?”
“You’re such an asshole,” Beckett said mildly. “It’s not time—it’d be weird to sleep with her with the kids right down the hall. They’re not ready for that, especially since Harry grilled me over kissing his mom.”
“No shit?” Now Ryder’s smirk bloomed into a full, appreciative grin. “Good for him.”
“Yeah, you’ve got to admire him, looking out for her. They’re great kids. Murphy wants me to build coffins for his action figures, for when they die in battle. Who thinks of that?”
“I wish we had,” Owen mused. “That would’ve been cool. We could’ve buried them out back, made little headstones with their emblems on them.”
Brilliant, Beckett thought. “Then they’d rise again, recharged by some supernatural force, to seek revenge.”
“You could burn in their emblems on the coffin lids, too. Every man should have his own coffin. You’ve still got your wood-burning kit, right?”
“Sure. Man, he’d love that.”
“While you two are playing with your toys, I’m going to work.” Ryder strapped on his tool belt. “Plenty of scrap plywood around,” he added as he walked out.
Owen waited until Ryder was out of earshot and shouting to the crew. “You know if you build them, he’s going to want in, and he’s going to call dibs on Wolverine and Venom, just like always.”
“Yeah, he will. You?”
“Damn straight I want in. I get—”
“Dibs on Spidey and Moon Knight.”
“Damn it. I was going to call Spider-Man.”
“Too late.”
“Batman and Joker.”
“It’s a start.”
He intended to go directly home, straight to his office, but got roped in to pulling on work gloves and helping tear down the old fencing. Then he answered the call across the street to consult with Madeline on the display shelves she wanted to stagger on the left wall of the gift shop.
On his way out, he spotted the barber on the bench outside of Sherry’s, stopped to talk.
“Looks real good.” Together they watched the electrician install one of the big carriage lights flanking the doors.