Page 35

He stopped in front of the vacant feed store and followed the downspout from the eaves to the clean drain at his feet. “Somebody’s maintaining the gutters on a boarded building,” he said. “You didn’t hire them.”

“Frank Donnelly owns the hardware store. He cleans these gutters every October even though the building isn’t his.”

“Of course he does.” Crane smiled. “Spreadsheets don’t count work nobody gets paid to do. On a block like this, that free work is often the only reason the doors stay open. When Frank stops climbing ladders, somebody has to pay for it. Does he charge you?”

“He would be offended if I asked.”

“How old is he?”

“Seventy-one.”

“Then put gutters in the budget.”

Crane said it without cruelty because, to him, it was math.

I unlocked the empty corner unit.

Crane walked from front to back, stopping at every crack, stain, and loose outlet cover. “Twenty-two hundred square feet,” he said. “Even if you make it ready for a tenant at one hundred fifty dollars a square foot, which you won’t, that’s three hundred thirty thousand dollars. Heating, wiring, and plumbing add another sixty. The three latest leases on this street average nine dollars a square foot per year. You would have to charge seventeen to make this renovation pay. No local business will pay almost twice the current rent.”

“They will if the block works.”

“That’s the hope.” He didn’t mock me. That would have been easier. “My staff called every motel in the county. Festival-weekend bookings are down twenty percent from last year. The festival’s public page shows the same small group hanging lights, setting up booths, and raising money every year. Your plan depends on visitors coming and those volunteers continuing to work for free.”

“The town is trying to change that.”

“I know. That’s why I financed you.” He turned toward me. “You bought six buildings in sixty days while you were four hundred thousand dollars short. You moved too fast because you didn’t want time to change your mind. I loaned you the difference, and I don’t regret it. If you’re right, Meridian earns interest on the loan. If you’re wrong and miss the deadline, Meridian can buy the block for what you paid. Both outcomes work for me.”

He walked to the front window and pulled back one corner of the paper covering the glass. Winters Wonderland stood across the street. “Only one works for Nora Winters.”

I had four answers. Every one of them was about money, and none of them answered that.

“You’re not wrong,” I said.

“That’s been the problem from the beginning.”

We continued up Main Street past Callahan’s Books. Garland stretched across the intersection, but the middle section was dark. It had failed Saturday night after the fire district returned its ladder truck, so Frank had to wait until they could spare the lift again.

Crane stopped in front of Winters Wonderland. “The tree is four inches off-center,” he said. “She placed it where people can see it from the crosswalk without blocking the doorway. The tall pieces are against the back wall, and the smaller items are at eye level near the glass. Nora Winters knows how to sell Christmas.”

“She does.”

“Then I hope she’s insured.” His voice stayed calm. That was how Crane delivered a warning. “The west footing has moved. If it moves farther, it can damage the wall shared with the bakery. Caring about the tenants won’t repair it.”

“The work is scheduled.”

“Scheduled isn’t started. Paragraph nine requires you to begin by January fifteenth. I would rather you start. The building will be safer, and my loan will be repaid.” He looked at Nora’s window again. “But starting means closing her shop for weeks, and you’ve stopped treating tenants like entries on a spreadsheet. Caring about people is a fine quality, Griffin. In this deal, it may cost you the block.”

I’d rehearsed my answer since he called from Mrs. Morrison’s driveway. The contract gave me until January fifteenth to begin the approved repair. I’d scheduled the crew for January second, which left time for weather, inspections, or one bad surprise. If I missed the deadline, Meridian gained the right to buy the block for what I had paid.

Movement inside Nora’s shop caught my eye.

Through the front window, I saw Jenna, Nora’s holiday relief clerk, take her place behind the register. A second later, the bell over the door rang and Nora came outside with her coat half on. Her gaze moved from Crane to me.

One side of her hair was trapped beneath her coat collar. I had five urgent problems and still wanted to reach over and free it.

“Ms. Winters.” Crane held out his hand. “Victor Crane, senior partner at the Meridian Group. I’ve admired your window in photographs for two weeks. It’s better in person.”

She shook his hand. “From a man who wants to buy the block, that sounds like an expensive compliment.”