Okay, Ryder thought, the kid not only had a lot of questions—which struck him as sensible—but he paid attention. Maybe they were making the next generation of contractors.

“It will. We’re going to take the old roof off.”

“What if it rains?”

“We’ll get wet.”

Harry grinned up at him. “Can I build something?”

“Yeah. Let’s get you a hammer.”

HE ENJOYED HIMSELF. The kid was bright and eager, with that willingness to do anything that came from never doing it before. And funny, often deliberately. Ryder had helped wrangle the kids and tools a few times when they’d finished Beckett’s house, so he knew Harry was reasonably careful. He liked to learn; he liked to build.

And teaching the boy a few basics took Ryder back to his own childhood where he’d learned his craft from his father.

There would be no Montgomery Family Contractors if Tom Montgomery hadn’t had the skills, the drive, and the patience to build—and hadn’t married a woman with vision and energy.

Ryder found he missed his father more at the beginning of a job, like this one, where the potential rolled out like an endless carpet.

He’d have gotten a kick out of this, Ryder thought as he guided Harry into measuring and marking the next stud. The big, empty space echoing with noise, the smell of sweat and sawdust.

And he’d have loved the boy, have loved the potential of the boy, too. Nine, closing in on ten, Ryder remembered. Gangling frame and sharp elbows and feet too big for the rest of him.

And now two more on the way. Yeah, his father would’ve gotten one hell of a large charge out of the Brewster/Montgomery brood.

The kid engaged the crew. He fetched and carried tirelessly. That wouldn’t last, Ryder calculated, but the novelty of the day equaled that slave labor—and made the boy feel like a man. Like part of the team.

He stepped back, took a swig of Gatorade from the bottle. Harry mimicked him, and stood, as Ryder did, studying the work.

“Well, kid, you built your first wall. Here.” He pulled a carpenter’s pencil from his belt. “Write your name on it.”

“Really?”

“Sure. It’ll be covered up with insulation, drywall, and paint, but you’ll know it’s there.”

Delighted, Harry took the pencil, and on the raw stud wrote his name in careful cursive.

He glanced over at the sound of whoops, watched Liam scramble in.

“They kick you out?” Ryder called.

“Nuh-uh! I did a million switch plates, and I did a doorknob, too. Chad showed me how. Then Beckett came to get me so we can have pizza.”

As he spoke, Beckett came in with Murphy.

“I built a wall! Look. Me and Ryder built a wall.”

Liam frowned at it. “How’s it a wall when you can walk through. See.” He demonstrated.