Parr followed him into the hall, staying calm. “Maybe you could rent out some of the space to bring in extra income, while you get yourself to the next level.”

“Yeah. I could do that. Excuse me.” Bobby Joe headed for a door all the way down the hall and closed it behind him. Parr could just make out the word GENTLEMEN on the old wood.

He strayed into a connecting hall and stopped cold in front of a photo of Mary Beth and Bobby Joe, framed on the wall. She looked blissfully happy, her eyes lit up with adoration as she looked up at Bobby Joe.

The sight made Parr’s heart stop for a second. How long ago had that been taken? There were leafless trees behind the couple, so maybe in January or February. Something clicked in his mind. It had probably been Valentine’s Day. That could be a red card in her hand—the lower part of the photo was blurred. And she was wearing a lace blouse.

Parr turned away. Their happiness seemed genuine. He hadn’t known the first thing about her then. And now, even after all that had gone down, he knew he had no right whatsoever to come between them.

His brother returned from the end of the hall, banging the door. Parr snapped out of it.

“What’s the matter with you?” Bobby Joe asked irritably. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. As far as I know, the building doesn’t have any.”

“Just thinking.”

Bobby Joe took the stairs two at a time, as if he was eager for this meeting to be over with. “Okay. Second floor.” He gestured to every room from where he stood on the landing. “Like I said, pretty much the same. Want to go up?”

“There’s more?”

“Yeah.” Bobby Joe went up the last staircase. “A couple of small offices.”

Parr entered the first one behind his brother. The room was small but nicely proportioned, with an old-fashioned skylight for illumination. Across its glass fell shadows of scaffolding.

“Is someone fixing the roof ?” Parr asked.

“No. That’s in decent shape. I asked Pete Corlear to do a bigger sign for me and he set up a rig to hang on to when he installs it.”

“So the gold lettering isn’t enough,” Parr said dryly. “Mind if I ask how much all this is costing?”

“I paid him in advance, Parr. No sign, no business. People won’t know I’m here without one on top of the building.”

“If you say so.” Parr walked around the room and looked out the window, spotting the sign painter’s truck. The older man was in the cab, organizing his tools. He looked about ready to leave.