Liz: I…see.
Eli: Why? You don’t usually ask personal questions.
Liz: And you don’t usually move in with a gaggle of strangers. You’re not acting like yourself, and it worries me. You might blow this whole deal.
Eli could have written touché, but instead, he snapped his phone shut. A while back, he’d spent a small fortune on a cutting-edge smart flip phone, and there really was something ineffably satisfying about closing it. He didn’t get that mental boost with a regular smartphone, no matter how emphatically he tapped the screen or closed an app.
It was a good thing nobody had noticed how pricey his tech was, as it would give away the fact that he could afford to make other housing arrangements.
Iris will be so hurt.
If he’d learned anything, it was that she prized honesty, and she thought everyone in the house had laid all their cards on the table. No secrets. No lies.
Which made Eli feel terrible. But he wouldn’t focus on that. Other matters required his attention. As the weather turned colder, Henry Dale had run out of house projects that could be tackled by two people with a can-do attitude. Which meant he was crankier than usual, likely stemming from the fact that he felt useless. It made him even crabbier when Mira spent all of fifteen minutes keeping her promise to update the paint in the second-floor hallway. Now Henry Dale probably thought his own existence was pointless, as it would’ve taken him several days and been messy and costly besides.
Normally, Eli wouldn’t care about any of this. They weren’t his people, right? He was alone in the world, soaring above it all. Untouchable and—
Nah. Not anymore.
An hour after the text chat with Liz, he was conspiring with Mira and Rowan to find Henry Dale a project. They were both in his room, away from any chance of being overheard by Henry Dale. He filled them in on his suspicions regarding Henry Dale’s bad attitude and then said, “Any ideas?”
“Is that why he’s in a mood?” Mira asked. “He seemed okay with my magic in the beginning, but now…”
Rowan nodded thoughtfully. “It makes sense. I was feeling kind of meh—like a charity project—until Iris hired me for her shop.”
With a pensive frown, Mira paced a bit. “Hmm. I see why you wanted us to collaborate because I can’t come up with anything off the top of my head.”
“It has to be something we actually need,” Eli cautioned. “Or he’ll know.”
The silence stretched for a few moments, then Rowan cleared their throat. “Uh. I have a want. Maybe even a need. A regular desk won’t work in my room, but I was thinking it would be cool if I had, like, a fold-down table to draw on, something I could fasten to the wall when I’m not using it.”
Inspired, Eli got out his phone and searched until he found an example of what he thought Rowan meant. “Something like this. With hidden shelving, maybe?”
“Oh, the Murphy bed of desks,” Mira said, leaning in to see the picture better.
Rowan scooted closer on his other side and nodded, excitement flickering in their dark eyes. “Exactly like that.”
In seconds, Mira had her phone out too. “Look, they even have folding ergonomic desk chairs. Maybe Henry Dale could work this chair into the design, so it all folds into the same cabinet when you’re not using it?”
“That would be amazing. I hate clutter, makes me anxious. But do you think Henry Dale will get mad if I ask him about this?” Rowan let out a little breath.
Eli beckoned. “One way to find out. Since this was my idea, I’ll see if he’s interested.”
Mira followed them out of Eli’s room. “This is perfect. My spells are no good for creating something out of nothing. I hope this reassures Henry Dale that we still need him around here.”
Rowan said, “It’s kinda not good that he feels like he has to be useful to be wanted, but y’know, one issue at a time?”
Eli headed down the hall. “Exactly. I think he’s in his room reading. Let’s go talk to him.”
On the way, Mira branched off to her own room, probably best since Henry Dale sometimes bristled over her abilities. Not that he disliked her, Eli thought, more that he had a fear of obsolescence. What good is an old man who putters when there’s magic like this? Henry Dale never said it outright, but that was the gist, Eli suspected.
While Rowan made coffee—Henry Dale’s favorite—Eli knocked. “Hey, if you’re not too busy, I need to talk to you.”
“About what?” Henry Dale asked in a snappish tone.
“Come out, we made coffee.”
“We?” Henry Dale popped out of his room and smiled when he saw Rowan. “That smells really good, thank you kindly.”
The old man had taken a shine to their youngest roommate, so this probably wouldn’t be a difficult ask. If Henry Dale was feeling cooped up, this would help. Eli raised a brow, silently verifying if Rowan wanted him to broach the subject. He got a terse nod in response.
Okay, my time to shine.
“Rowan’s got the smallest room, so they have nowhere to focus on their art. So we were wondering, if you have time…” He explained the project and showed Henry Dale some of the sample photos they’d found. “I’m planning to order this chair—”
“Nonsense. I’ll make the chair too. It’ll look better if it’s all one set. I have plenty of lumber left in the shed, and I bet Sally would sew some memory foam cushions once we’re done. I can draw up some designs… Is that all right with you, Rowan?” The old man had a happy gleam in his eyes, actually rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
Rowan blinked. “But we haven’t even talked about how to pay—”
“I want you to use that new desk and draw me a unicorn. Can you do that for me?” Henry Dale cut in.
“Totally,” said Rowan.
Henry Dale nodded once. “Then it’s settled. I’ll get to work right away.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever understand him,” Rowan said, as Henry Dale sat down at the kitchen table with a yellow legal tablet and a cup of coffee.
Eli smiled, imagining that unicorn framed and hanging in a place of pride in the old man’s room. “Me either. But it’s more magical this way.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
At this point, things were going almost too well.
In the usual course of events, Iris could expect life to throw her a curveball right about now, some terrible catastrophe that she hadn’t planned for. Because, frankly, she wasn’t great at planning or paying attention to details that might catch her unaware. But there were no problems she could pinpoint, so maybe she was creating that sense of foreboding, some kind of self-fulfilling prophecy.
I expect to fail, so I fail.
Hopefully that was the issue, not some pertinent minutiae that Iris should deal with before it snowballed. With a groan, she stood and stretched, pleased with her progress now that she had Rowan pitching in. With them tending to shipments like clockwork, she could devote herself to design, production, and photography. She’d even managed to order a reasonably priced lightbox with different backgrounds to showcase her jewelry professionally, even using a black velvet neck form to make her shots look high-end.