They left together, quiet conversation disappearing down the hall. Alone in the library, I crossed to the windows and grabbed fistfuls of heavy curtain, tugging them back until the rods squealed and cold gray daylight flooded in.
Dust motes exploded in the air like a blizzard of tiny ghosts.
I coughed, covered my mouth with the back of my hand, and laughed at myself.
“Okay, Granny,” I muttered under my breath. “Guess you weren’t far off telling me books collected souls instead of dust.”
The memory of her — sitting in her recliner, hands folded over a blanket, eyes going glassy more and more often as the days went by — stabbed under my ribs. I shoved it down and focused on the room at hand.
We’d clean first, then focus on warmth and little touches that made it feel like someone lived here again.
I was still mentally rearranging furniture when Jacob and Mei came back loaded down with a folded stack of sheets to throw over the furniture before we started dusting, a caddy of spray bottles and polish, and three feather dusters that looked like they had seen some things, including better days.
“Where do you want these?” Jacob asked.
“Sheets over the furniture so it doesn’t get more dust on it as we’re going. Once we’re done, we’ll vacuum the remaining dust off the furniture, too,” I said, taking half from him.
My fingers brushed his forearms, and heat fizzed up my skin like static. He set the caddy and dusters on the nearest table, biceps flexing under rolled sleeves. I tried very, very hard not to stare.
“I’ll oil the rolling ladders so we can start with the highest shelves first and work our way down,” he said.
The rolling ladders were older than I was, but looked sturdy enough. He tested the rungs himself before scrambling to the top and spraying penetrating oil on the rollers.
“You good with heights?” he asked, glance cutting toward me.
“Yeah, but sometimes I’m a little clumsy, so keep an eye out,” I said. “If I start screaming, just be ready to catch me.”
One corner of his mouth tugged up.
“I’ll be ready.”
We fell into a rhythm faster than I expected. I climbed, dusted, and wiped down the higher shelves while Jacob handled the lower ones and anything that needed real muscle. Mei came and went, bringing an extra rag here, a different cleaner there, hauling away trash bags as they filled. We pulled the curtains all the way open, dragged a side table closer to the window, straightened frames and set aside anything too ugly or broken to save.
It was satisfying in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. More than that, it was honest work and visible progress. With every pass of the duster, cloth, and vacuum, the room brightened around the edges. It didn’t look like a neglected museum piece anymore. It looked like it might be waiting for someone to curl up with a book and a cup of coffee or tea.
“You do this a lot?” Jacob asked at one point, eyeing the way I’d propped books on their sides to break up the uniform rows. “Rearrange other people’s lives?”
“If by ‘this’ you mean clean up other people’s messes, then yeah,” I said, coming down a few rungs. “My life’s basically one big disaster recovery project. At least this room doesn’t talk back or forget my name.”
He snorted.
“Low bar.”
“Exactly.” I hopped off the last rung and flexed my sore hands. “I’m aiming for achievable goals.”
His gaze snagged on my left hand for a fraction of a second, on the simple silver ring with the green stone sitting where a wedding band would go. Something unguarded flashed in his eyes, then vanished.
“You picked a good one,” he said roughly.
My chest tightened around my next breath.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I did.”
I wondered if he knew I meant him, not the ring.
Mei breezed back in, arms full of something white and ceramic.
“We found a lamp in storage,” she said, setting it carefully on the side table. “It only needed a new shade, and there was this vase. It used to be in here a long time ago.”
