Page 120 of The Spellreader and the Phoenix

In the tone of someone who wasn’t very good at olive branches, Trevelyan offered, “My father did always say that Mr. Jones did whatever he wanted.”

Peter’s lips tipped up into something that was almost a smile, though his eyes were sad. Max recognized that look from after his parents had died. Memories that both cheered and flattened you.

“That is very true,” Peter agreed. “And what he wanted was for Max to make good use of his spellbooks. It’s impractical for them to be housed in Max’s small bookshop. And Mr. Jones was well aware that this place requires tremendous upkeep and would be impossible to maintain without dedicated funds. Funds also enable ongoing purchases, and Mr. Jones expects that Max will continue to acquire spellbooks.”

Max narrowed his eyes at Peter. “I get the feeling there was a lot you two didn’t say at my last visit.”

It had been clear he was being tested, and he’d been just naive enough to think he knew about what.

There was another ghost of a smile on Peter’s face. “What can I say? You impressed him.”

Max scoffed a disgusted sound, and Rory stifled a laugh.

“I can feel a headache coming on already.” Max sounded fed up. “What does this mean, practically speaking? I own a bookshop.”

Rory laid a reassuring hand on his arm. “And no one is asking you to give it up. But perhaps we can move to a model where you aren’t there as often. We already started talking about it.”

That was true from back when he’d thought he’d just be visiting Mr. Jones’s collection.

“There’s no timeline,” Peter said. Trevelyan opened his mouth, but Peter glared at him until he closed it again. “Of course, the sooner the work begins, the faster progress will be, but there are no hard and fast requirements set by the will. The trust is managed by me, Trevelyan Abercromie, you, and Rory.”

Max groaned and asked plaintively, “Why is Mr. Jones doing this to me?”

“Decisions are by simple majority, unless the money involved is in excess of a million dollars, and then unanimity is required,” Peter continued.

Max choked on air. “Why would we be making decisions about more than a million dollars?”

Rory clapped his hands together. “I’ve never been in charge of money before. This sounds like fun!”

Trevelyan muttered something that was probably not complimentary, but they all pretended not to hear.

“This sounds like a massive headache,” Max grumbled.

Rory nudged him. “But you get to work with spells all the time. You get to label them and protect people and make spells available to them just the way you wanted.”

Max sighed. It was kind of exactly what he wanted; he hadn’t imagined it becoming available to him in this way. There was a little ember of excitement burning in his gut, but he didn’t think the headache aspect should be discounted.

Still, it was an opportunity he was unlikely to have achieved on his own. In addition to being annoyed, he was flattered that Mr. Jones had thought so highly of him.

“I am looking forward to cataloguing the spellbooks,” Max conceded with poor grace.

Rory beamed.

“Speaking of the spellbooks, there’s one in particular that Mr. Jones would like you to look at now.” Peter eyed them with what Max could only consider significance.

Trevelyan was looking between them. “There’s no additional bequest in the will.”

Peter gave him a dismissive look. “This book belongs to the two of them. Mr. Jones already gave it to them.”

The lawyer’s brow furrowed. “That is irregular.”

Peter’s look turned scathing. “Irregular that a man chose to give a book to a colleague?”

Glowering, Trevelyan said, “Then why is it here?”

“Because this was a safe space to store it,” Peter said simply.

“Perhaps I should—” the lawyer started.