Ashley, with truce coffee. It must be morning, then. And it better be good coffee.

“Yeah,” she called. She pulled her arms from her sleeping bag and struggled to sit up. Her back felt as stiff as the board beneath her. She stretched, and felt each vertebra slip and pop along her spine.

Ash stepped into the room and handed her a tall mug. Laurel breathed in the steam and couldn’t resist a smile. French press.

“That’s pretty,” Ash said, nodding at the picture by the door.

“Haven’t you seen it already?” Laurel’s dream floated back to her. She reached up and ran her fingers through her hair. She flinched when they caught on a snarl. A headache bloomed at her temple.

“No.” Ash shook her head and leaned in close to the picture glass.

“I think it’s the best of its kind I’ve ever seen.” Laurel took a long drink. “So you weren’t in here last night?”

“Best of what kind?”

“Look closer. That’s all human hair.”

Ash stepped back. “Oh, gross.”

“Relax, it’s behind glass. That’s probably locks cut from all the women in the family. Several generations, I bet. Moms cutting the first locks of their babies, or their children that died of fevers. Maybe the last from a deceased matriarch. They were mementos. Usually they’re wreathes or flower baskets. I’ve never seen trees done like that before.”

Ashley was leaning in close again. “Looks like a lot of different people in this one.”

“Well, there was a lot more to die from back then.”

Ash shuddered and held her mug close. “I guess they didn’t take each other for granted, at least. They probably all felt lucky to be alive, to have each other.”

“Shame so many had to die so the rest could feel appreciated.” You’re all I have left, Ash.

“Well, you’re going to die when you see what I found down the hall.”

Laurel kicked her feet till she was free of the sleeping bag. “What?”

“Only a library.”

“Shut up.”

“Never.” That infectious smile. Laurel could feel her heart mounting an immune response.

“Are there books?”

“They’ve seen better days. But some are okay. It’s the shelves I think you’re going to love. I’ve already rigged a pulley system to get them down the elevator shaft. They’re all yours. For the store.”

Laurel squeezed her mug, trying to soak in some measure of warmth. “I’m sorry I lost my temper last night. I am excited about the store. And a fresh start. It’s just hard to have to rely on you.” I promised to look after you. Now look at us.

“Yeah, well. You took care of me a time or two.”

Should have been four, five. A hundred.