“Lost New York!” Rube fanned it open to show black and white photos of old buildings. “It’s a rare collector’s item, did you know? Even before the superstorms!” He dropped beside me and plunked the big book in my lap, flipping pages. “Look! This one, and this one?” It was too dark to see any detail. He must have had them memorized. “Remember I told you about the 1964 World’s Fair and the first Madison Square Garden? And Coney Island?” His delight shamed my pout. But who even thought about such ancient history?

Daniel laughed. “I should’ve sold direct to the dens long ago. Don’t get this kind of appreciation uptown.”

“What’ll it cost me?” Rubio asked.

“What are you offering?”

I knew Rubio was counting up his meager possessions, sure he was falling short.

“What I mean is,” Daniel added, “the price is negotiable. And the currency flexible.”

Rubio brightened. “Okay . . . need anything done around the boat? Painting? Caulking?”

“Take it with you. I’ll be around a few days. We’ll work it out later.”

Rube held out his hand, then gripped Daniel’s with both of his own. “I can’t thank you enough, Dan.” He snatched the picture book from my lap and nearly scurried up the ladder.

I watched until he gained the top. “Wow. Haven’t seen him that charged up in ages.”

Daniel eyed me. “It’s nice, making people happy.”

“Oh, you’ll never make Rubio happy. Excited, thrilled, but happy’s not his thing.”

“Looks like he’s had a bit of a dust-up, your friend.”

I’d stopped noticing Rubio’s healing cuts and bruises. His deepening cough was a greater worry. But he’d broken my sullen mood. People had worse problems than me. “Bullies in the den. Didn’t like his ideas. Except, since Joseph and all that happened to the Smiths, they’re everyone’s ideas.”

“Lucky for him.” He let the quiet linger for a bit. “Are you okay?”

I couldn’t look at him. “Sorry. Sometimes I just get . . .”

“I get it. I think.” He leaned closer, holding up the old book again. “What do you say?”

Too close. I inched away again. But one problem had just been solved. Rubio had seen Daniel holding the old book, which made it okay for me to have it now, out in the open. No more contraband burdening my gut wallet. I’d just say I’d borrowed it from the Book Dude.

“What?” he asked, as relief spread across my face.

“Nothing.” I was tons lighter. And with the book no longer a liability, I wasn’t so eager to be rid of it. I scraped at tired eyes with both hands. “I’m . . . could we do this later? It’s been . . .”