Puzzled and unsure how to process this, I bow my head and wipe my eyes as discreetly as I can.

Fred ambles around the corner of the desk in the same blue and black flannel that he wore every day last week. He looks at me for approval. When I give him the slightest nod, he pulls me into a tight embrace.

He smells like Old Spice and tobacco, exactly what I think a grandfather would smell like. It’s comforting and welcoming, and even though I told myself, promised myself, that I wouldn’t cry, I find myself sobbing softly into his chest.

“This stinks,” he whispers as he lets me go. “This really stinks, doesn’t it?”

I nod, wiping my nose with the sleeve of my shirt.

“We’ve been talking,” Burt says.

My insides flip-flop. “About what?”

He leans against his desk. Those big, burly arms of his flexing in the yellowish light. The others defer to him, their leader, as Fred makes his way back to his desk.

“Were you in here yesterday? In the office, I mean?” he asks.

“Yes. Ethan and I came by for a couple of hours after I went to Kirk’s. I took them a casserole,” I say, even though it’s none of their business. “Shamrock always sends their orders on Sundays for some stupid reason, and Kirk usually is here to get them. I was afraid no one would think about it.”

Burt almost smiles. Almost.

“What were you talking about before I got here?” I ask. “Me?”

He nods. “We were just saying how you’d be marching your ass in here and barking out orders as soon as you got to work. How you’ll come over and tell us some big plan you have to save this place.”

My jaw drops. He can’t be serious.

“You’re damn right,” I say, my tears drying up at his brisk attitude. “I do have a plan. We have to try to save Skoolie’s—not just for Kirk but for us. For our families. For the town.”

I pause, giving myself a second to rid my voice of the wobble that was starting to surface.

“If he decides to close the doors, there’s nothing we can do about that,” I say. “But we can try to make things so easy for him that he doesn’t want to.”

Burt does it. He smiles. It’s not an “Oh, go fuck yourself” kind of thing that I’ve seen from him before, but it almost has a hint of respect in it.

What’s happening here?

He plants his hands on the desk and looks right at me. “You are not coming in here and telling us how you’re going to save Skoolie’s.”

“Burt—”

“Because we are all going to try. Together.”