Ezreal ducked his head. Epic was exactly what he was going for, music that matched what was happening on the screen and captured the essence of the different personalities. He wanted music that stayed with the audience long after listening.
For the rest of the meal, he answered the children’s questions, first about the game and then about a lot of random things.
“Has everyone eaten as much as they want?” Mrs. Fortune asked, rising. “If so, we should get this cleaned up so we can show Mr. Wallach the music room before it gets too late.”
“It’s not a music room yet,” Janna said as she stood and picked up her plate.
“Yeah, it’s a mess.” Brand sounded like an echo of what he’d heard someone older say, probably his mother.
“Don’t scare him away yet. He’s going to see if he can help us fix it up.”
She and her children worked well together, and they made short work of clearing the table and loading the dishwasher.
“We’re ready.” Mrs. Fortune held out a hand to each of her children.
Ezreal hurried to open the kitchen door and then followed them outside. It was still warm. Boone’s altitude kept it from getting as hot as a lot of the rest of the state, for which he was grateful. The old workshop wasn’t far, but there was no stone or concrete path to it from the house or the driveway. He started making a mental list of things they’d need.
If she didn’t have a snowblower, she’d want one of those. It wouldn’t do for any of the kids to slip on an icy walk. The roof of the structure looked new, but the windows might be original to the building, which meant they were old. He didn’t like the weathered door and wondered if it would have been cheaper to tear down the structure and build new. Too bad she’d invested in a new roof already.
“Janna,” he asked as Mrs. Fortune opened the squeaky door, “did your mother have to pay for the new roof all by herself?”
“No, I got some donations from local businesses and the rest from an online fundraiser.” She turned on the light. “That was the biggest investment. Now we can keep out the water.”
Ezreal nodded and gave his attention to the room.
“The previous owner left some old tables and shelves, which I’ve pulled out. I’d hoped to start classes with the new school year, but I’ll have to save up enough money to finish it.”
“Janna, we should get estimates from local contractors.”
“You can talk to my mom,” the little girl whispered. “She won’t bite you.”
Ezreal glanced at the woman, but his hands started to tingle, his lungs seeming to contract on themselves.
“I can’t afford to pay for a contractor, Mr. Wallach,” Mrs. Fortune said.
“I c-c-can.”
“I don't need your charity.” Her tone had gone arctic.
“It w-w-w would b-b-b—” Ezreal started again. “F-for th-the ch-ch-chchildren.” He almost shouted the last word, but he got it out.
The mother and daughter stared at him, Janna’s mouth open, her mother looking like she was about to argue. He turned to the little girl.
“Tell your mother I have the money and not enough to do with it. Please, let me help.” He forced his hands to relax.
Mrs. Fortune studied him before heaving out a breath. She gave a curt nod, her cheeks flushed, he assumed from embarrassment. She said, “But only because it's for the children.”
He nodded. “Janna, my name is Ezreal.”
With a resigned expression, the little girl looked from him to her mother and said, “My mama's name is Sara.”
He shot Mrs. Fortune a sidelong glance, and she nodded.
“But you’ll have to let me do something foryouin return for this,” Sara said. “I won’t be obligated to you.”
What could she possibly do for him?
* * *
