“Dad!” Eli appeared in the doorway, waving Luke’s notebook. “I made the map! Red is for super bad stuff, orange is for kind of bad stuff, and I used blue for the stuff that makes weird noises but doesn’t look broken yet.”
“Perfect.” Luke accepted the slightly crumpled pages, covered in what looked like a cross between a treasure map and an abstract art piece. “This is exactly what a professional disaster assessment should look like.”
Eli beamed. “Can we do the laser thing now? Please?”
Luke glanced at Noah, who nodded. “Go ahead. I need to make some calls anyway.”
They watched him head downstairs, his shoulders carrying the weight of everything they’d discovered. Eli tugged on Luke’s sleeve, practically vibrating with excitement.
“So where’s the laser? Does it make cool noises? Can it cut through walls like in spy movies?”
“Even better.” Luke pulled out his laser level, positioning it on the doorframe. “It helps us make sure everything’s exactly where it should be. Want to see something cool?”
He clicked the button, and a perfect red line appeared across the wall. Eli gasped, properly impressed.
“That’s so cool! Can I try? Please?”
“Sure, but careful—it’s not a toy.” Luke showed him how to hold it steady. “See how the line isn’t straight across the wall? That means this whole side of the house has settled over time. That’s something else to put on the map, but you wouldn’t have known about it without a special tool.”
“Does that mean the house is going to fall over like when my sandcastle is all crooked?”
“Only if it was ignored for a really, really long time. But that’s why we’re going to make a list ofeverythingwe find.” Luke marked the measurements in his notebook, adding them to Eli’s colorful disaster map. “Then we’ll make a plan to fix it. Make it strong again.”
“Like a superhero?”
“More like a doctor.” Luke remembered their earlier conversation. “Remember? Houses need checkups too.”
They spent the next twenty minutes taking measurements, Eli proving to be a surprisingly focused assistant. By the time they finished, Luke had a fairly complete picture of what needed to be done—and how impossible it would be to tackle while working full-time on the Tillerman project. He might as well drape a drop cloth over the coffee table he was still working on and lock up his workshop. If he didn’t come to his senses—which he was beginning to doubt he would—every waking hour not spent at the Tillerman’s would be in this old girl.
He found Noah in the kitchen, staring at his phone like it might bite him. “Please tell me you’re not watching more DIY videos.”
“Worse. Looking at my savings account.” Noah set the phone down. “I appreciate you taking the time to look everything over, but I think I need to handle this in tiny pieces. Maybe start with just the essential repairs?—”
“Or,” Luke interrupted, “we could work out a plan. Something manageable spread over time. I know some suppliers who owe me favors, and I’m pretty good at prioritizing what needs immediate attention versus what can wait. I’ll talk to Keatonto see if I can get the materials using the company account so you’re only paying our cost instead of a retail mark-up. And having me do the work will be a hell of a lot cheaper than most of the companies around. If you want to save even more, you could go to ReStore. You can find some pretty good deals there, and you’ll be giving back to the community at the same time.”
Noah’s expression turned wary. “I thought you had other projects lined up.”
“I do.” Luke leaned against the counter, ignoring how it wobbled slightly. “That’s actually good news for you because you can pay for stuff as we go, and it’ll be a drawn-out process since I’ll have to work around my day job schedule. I’m thinking maybe this one’s worth making time for.”
“Why?”
The question hung between them, heavy with implications. Luke could list a dozen professional reasons—the challenge, the satisfaction of restoring something beautiful, the potential for future referrals. But what came out was, “Because sometimes the things that seem impossible are the ones most worth doing.”
Noah studied him for a long moment, and Luke fought the urge to fill the silence with jokes or deflection. Finally, Noah nodded slowly.
“Okay,” he said. “But I need to know exactly what I’m getting into. No surprises.”
“Can’t promise that.” Luke gestured at the kitchen’s water-stained ceiling. “Old houses love surprises. But I can promise to be upfront about costs, timelines, and priorities. We’ll talk about what everything will cost, then come up with solutions whenthings are still out of your budget. And I’ll teach Eli how to use more tools than a laser level.”
That earned him another small smile. “He’s going to hold you to that.”
“Good. Who knows, maybe he’ll come out of this with a love of carpentry that’ll lead to a career when he’s older.” Luke liked the idea of inspiring passion in someone the same way his dad had done for him. He pulled out his phone, already mentally rearranging his schedule. “How about I put together a proper estimate? We can go over it this weekend and figure out where to start.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“I know.” Luke met Noah’s gaze steadily. “I want to.”
The words felt bigger than they should, carrying weight beyond their simple meaning. Noah must have felt it too because he looked away first.
