“Right, and I started making another part of the garage into a proper storage room but didn’t have time to finish. You know the rough framing? I need to insulate it properly and add a subfloor and heat to keep the temperature stable so I can work on my pieces all year.”

“Want me to take a look?” Ash said, his eyes lighting up, exactly how I knew they would.

I smiled. Ash had always been the first one to offer assistance, never wanted to let anyone down. “Would you? I’ve thought about selling my stuff online for years, and I’m excited to make a proper website, but I need to be able to keep up with demand.”

“I’d love to help, and it’ll be great practice for when I get a job.”

I smiled tightly, hoping he wouldn’t notice. “Sure, sure,” I said, stopping when my phone buzzed and I looked at the screen, immediately recognizing the number. My stomach tightened. I held up a finger to Ash in a give me a minute gesture before turning away and answering. “Hi, Barbara, is everything okay?”

“Barbara?” Dave laughed. “Okay, I’ll roll with it.”

I knew he would. Dave Decato was a chameleon of the highest order, capable of adapting to any situation he was thrown into. The fastest liar in Maine, he liked to say, probably the entire East Coast. I’d met him a few months after Brad died and I’d tried to cope with the loss by drinking too much and partying too hard. I’d gone out with some friends one night, ended up at a bar thanks to my fake ID. Everyone else admitted defeat and went home while I was intent on ending the night as drunk as possible. Enter Dave, who liked to pretend he was a NYC drug lord instead of the country bumblefuck he truly was. He’d bought me another drink and struck up a conversation before slipping me a little bag of weed, what he called a “teaser,” and writing his phone number on my arm in case I wanted access to a more regular supply. I had, and often, until Ash caught me smoking in my bedroom one night and had gone ape.

“It’s just weed,” I’d said. “Jeez, lighten up, grandpa, what’s your problem?”