“Hey,” I yelled through the door. “You can’t prop this door open. You’re going to get the owner in trouble.”
My voice echoed past the doorway. Somewhere, I could hear a moan of wind blowing through another not-quite-airtight window.
Through the doorway, I could see a wide gallery space instead of the setup we had, storeroom and office, the johns. I walked to the door. The gallery went all the way to the front windows with the paper taped up in them.
It was completely empty. And kind of a dump.
A bakery, taco joint, launderette? Oona’s yoga studio? I looked around, thinking anything we’d been hoping for was still alongway off. We’d heard drywall going up, that distinctive rhythm of screws being driven into wallboard, but most of the walls were still open to the studs, with only one patch of Sheetrock in place, on the wall that backed up to McPhee’s.
Below that, the floor was a mess.
Oh, those TanyaTuckers.
They were prying up the originalhardwood. I put down the food order and walked over to inspect the mess. Historic oak slats, refinished warm and golden in the pub, were on this side being sawed out and stacked against the opposite wall like a picket fence.
Alex was going to be seriously annoyed. Not showing it, of course, but silent andglowering.
“Goodbye to your security deposit,” I said to the boards.
What had they been doing all this time? Where was the progress?
I bent closer to the wall. The one sheet of wallboard had been installed using a lot of screws, all up and down the studs in the wall. It wasn’t goinganywhere. I was no builder, but it all seemed inefficient, at best, a waste of time. And screws. I didn’t see any other sheets of wallboard waiting to go up, either. It was nonsensical.
But the damage to the floor waspainful. Up close, it was worse than I’d thought. They hadn’t just pried up the hardwood boards, but were also ripping out the solid wood subfloor below it, exposing the supports below. In one spot, they’d opened a hole all the way to the crawl space or—
Did we have a basement?
Between the floor joists, there was… a depth? When I stepped forward, a faint light below showed a dusty wooden floor. Maybe the straight edge of a table?
Looking down into the darkness, I got dizzy and had to step back.
There was nothing to do but take the food back to the pub.
Next door, Ned stood stiffly in the alcove. He looked down at the plastic bag in my hand. “Did you… You didn’t make the delivery?”
“There’s no one over there,” I said.
“Oh,” he said.
“And whatever they are doing over there, it’s a mess,” I said. “Someone has to break it to Alex that the new tenants are digging for Earth’s molten core through the hardwood floor—and it is Tammy Wyn-notgoing to be me.”
Ned licked his lips.
“You put a burger on for me, right?” I said. “You might as well take this one home.”
He took it uncertainly, but just stood there, as though he meant to say something or expected me to.
I guess we were both having the same kind of day. Joey had been his bandmate, after all—best friend, probably.
“Thanks for coming in today, Ned,” I said. “Even though… you know. Last night.”
Ned swallowed hard, ducked his head but not fast enough that I didn’t notice bloodshot eyes. “Yeah. Joey was…”
A good musician, a good friend. A good guy.
The best.
I was just theworstpossible girlfriend, not to have known it.
