He left the remainder of concern over the bread to Lucas, along with ideas about lunch, and returned to his work, responding to more emails and ignoring a message on the business line that he suspected was Lisbeth Hawthorne. He completed a scarf, except for the fringe, then wandered back to the kitchen in search of food… or more coffee. But he stopped outside the living room, struck by the sound of Lucas quietly talking to Robin’s long-dead relatives.
“The flooring is mostly in good condition, but it all needs to be cleaned, scraped, and refinished. There’s scuffing and some water damage. No mold, but the water left a stain. That can be done, but he’d have to choose a color. Do you think he’d want the same color?”
He wasn’t sure if Lucas was being answered directly or choosing to act as if he had, politely including everyone in his work.
“I can’t imagine the floors are a top priority,” Robin interrupted.
Lucas startled and looked up. “No,” he answered slowly. “But I’m trying to plan ahead.”
That seems very far ahead, Robin thought, but wisely didn’t say it.
“Giving yourself a lot of work,” he said instead. “Is that what you did when the old men had you puttering around doing their chores for them that summer?” His lips parted at Lucas’ nod. “What, really? I always thought you came here to learn some aspect of the business. Not to mend things and do odd jobs. I… Marise and the others seemed to think you were going to stay. Maybe they were just hoping.”
Maybe Robin had hoped. Whatever.
“So that’s why you decided it wasn’t for you,” Robin continued, worrying about ancient history. “It wasn’t much of an internship if you were just repairing fences and going into crawlspaces.”
“Maintaining the property is part of the work.” It was a very Lucas thing to say. “And I told you, I don’t have an art. Taking care of this place was rewarding to me. I assume that it’s similar to seeing your designs come to life in your work.”
Robin imagined that taking a place like this farmhouse and making it shine again while ensuring it still ran smoothlywouldfeel like completing a tapestry.
“Okay,” he agreed, but kept on talking anyway. “So you learned what you wanted and then went on to the next thing? Or did the family business need you?”
Lucas straightened up from where he’d been kneeling to look at the floor. “I am technically an insurance liability on a work site,” he admitted, glancing away, “so I can’t work as most of my family does. I help out where I can, but no, I’m not really needed for the construction and only a little for any restoration. And I’m not great at customer service.”
Robin snorted at that, then cleared his throat. “Sorry.”
Lucas shrugged, unoffended. “Are you asking because you want me to stay on here?”
Robin lost every single possible train of thought in his head. He forgot about threads, and the echoing emptiness of his house, and the closed curtains of the workroom. “Um.” He stared at Lucas and realized he was starving. “I hadn’t thought about it. I suppose because why would you?”
The eyebrow and a half drew together in a frown. “I think now I should have.” Lucas gestured to the fireplace, where a fire flared to life on top of a small piece of barely charred wood. “This place wasn’t meant for one person to run. It’s not possible but also… it’s just not meant for it. Your relatives built this as a home for many, and created a business to keep them all in warmth and comfort.”
“Yes, they did.” Robin’s voice rasped; his throat felt stuck when he tried to swallow.
Lucas remained forbidding and concerned. “The roof first. Then the plumbing needs an in-depth look. The electrical system getting an upgrade wouldn’t hurt, either. But first the roof, then the outside, so that any professional visitors can see it as it should be. You should think about paint colors, anything you like, as bright as your yarns. Were you one of the ones doing the dyeing? If not, if you want help discussing colors, you should ask Persephone. She’s good with things like that.”
“True.” Robin cleared his throat several times but his voice was still rough. “Youmake everything black and gray. I did dye. Iwoulddye.” He didn’t know why he owned to it so cautiously. Maybe he’d missed it more than he’d realized. “For what I needed, in what were truly my creations. I don’t have time for those anymore. And it’s been easier to do the sorts of commissions I’ve been doing: somewhat bland rugs and pillows for somewhat bland people.” He couldn’t care less about those people in this moment. “You really like it here? Enough to stay? But you had all that other work at other businesses around town.” Lucas had run and never come back. People who left this house did not return. “Why did you come out here in the first place?”
“Your family invited me,” Lucas answered after a suspiciously long pause. “Did you need something? I haven’t checked the fireplaces in the workroom. Are they working properly?”
Robin twisted around at the subject change, trying to recall the last time he’d used more than just the one fireplace in the workroom.
He finally shook his head. “No, I was thinking of lunch.”
“There’s onion and sliced turkey, if you’d like a sandwich.” Lucas came forward without waiting for an answer. “Then I’ll leave this room alone so you can rest while you finish your projects.”
Robin really ought to complain, but it wasn’t as if Lucas was being highhanded. He was concerned and too accommodating.
“All right,” Robin agreed, “if you join me for a while.”
Lucas’s gaze flew to him and lingered before Lucas moved on. He nodded as he went.
Surprising Lucas was more fun than Robin had had in ages. A pleasure, really.
The spirits apparently in the living room must have agreed. They brushed past Robin close enough to make him shiver, and a shimmering, tinkling sound, like laughter through a veil, followed him as he went back to the workroom for his laptop.
They were pleased with themselves.
