"Some things can't be fixed with manual labor and good intentions."
"Then what would fix it?"
"Time. Maybe. Or maybe nothing. I haven't decided yet."
She left before he could respond, and Alaric stood in the doorway of his ancestral hall watching her walk away through the snow that had begun falling again.
"That went well," Thomas said, appearing at his elbow with his usual talent for materialization.
"That was a disaster."
"No, a disaster would be her throwing something at you. She just walked away. That's progress."
"Your optimism is disturbing."
"Someone has to be optimistic. You're too busy being brooding and she's too busy being stubborn."
"She has every right to be stubborn."
"Oh, I know. But it's still annoying to watch. Like watching two people dance but stepping on each other's feet on purpose."
"That's a terrible metaphor."
"I'm twelve. My metaphors are still developing."
That afternoon, true to his word, Alaric arrived at the bakery with roofing materials and tools, accompanied by Thomas and several other villagers who'd volunteered to help. Marianne watched from the doorway, arms crossed, as they unloaded tiles and tar and other mysterious roofing supplies.
"You actually came," she said.
"I said I would."
"People say a lot of things."
"I'm trying to be better about following through."
"Trying isn't the same as doing."
"Which is why I'm here, doing."
"You're here. Whether you're doing remains to be seen."
"Your faith in me is overwhelming."
"You want faith? Earn it."
"That's what I'm attempting to do."
"With roofing materials?"
"It's a start."
"Everything with you is 'a start.'"
"Because everything with us keeps starting over. I'd prefer to move forward, but you keep resetting us to the beginning."
"Because you keep giving me reasons to doubt."
"Name one thing I've done in the last five days that's given you reason to doubt."
