Ash shook his head. “Nah, he won’t keep it Thorn. He’s already bought three of the adjacent properties, and he wants the land. He has plans to build a hotel spa thing. For the tourists.”

“Oh no! You won’t sell, will you?”

It hadn’t occurred to Truman that Ash might own the building, but he supposed real estate in rural Maine wasn’t as expensive as in New Orleans.

Ash was chewing on his lip. “I might not have a choice.” He looked around Thorn, and Truman couldn’t help but notice he seemed resigned. Then Ash made a sound of disgust and said, “You wanna get out of here for a while?”

“But what if customers come?”

Ash shrugged, and Truman thought he might be seeing part of the problem with Thorn’s cash flow.

Still he said, “Okay.”

“Come on, Bruce,” Ash said as he pulled on his coat. “Walk.”

At the word, Bruce sprang from a dead sleep like he’d been reanimated with a zap.

“Dingbat,” Ash said affectionately. Bruce barked in acknowledgment.

“D’you want me to—okay!”

Truman grabbed the bag of muffins and the coffees and followed Ash, who was already out the door. This time, he didn’t bother to leave a Back soon, call Ash sign on the door.

Ash turned away from the other shops on Main Street, rounded the corner away from Greta’s house, and strode off, Bruce keeping pace. Truman power-walked to catch up, sloshing some latte on his—well, Greta’s—glove.

When Truman caught up, Ash scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Sorry, I just had to get out of there. Felt like the walls were closing in or something.”

Truman held out a latte, because sometimes when the walls were closing in, there was nothing you could do but attempt to caffeinate them back into position.

“Thanks.”

“So, forgive my inferences, but context clues suggest that Thorn isn’t making enough money, and you might need to sell to Mafia guy because he’s offering more money than you could make?”

“You got it.”

“Well, while I’m Sherlocking, can I assume that your mother is not in good health and that that’s part of the problem?”

“Yeah.”

They walked in silence for a few blocks, but now it didn’t feel awkward. It felt contemplative. Companionable.

“The building used to be a kind of Army surplus meets random fishing and boating stuff shop when I was little, but it had been abandoned for years when I bought the building. It wasn’t up to code, the plaster was crumbling, and the apartment upstairs was…well, let’s just say I stayed at my mom’s for a month while I made it livable. It was very cheap. I did all the work on it, with some help from Bob.”

Ash lifted his to-go cup in salute, like it stood in for the man himself.