Page 16

He could always count on his father’s voice to show up in his head at times like these.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. Half the old buildings in Primrose Court have terrible wiring. You’ll just want to get that addressed when the reconstruction work starts,” the firefighter said. “I can give you a contact.”

“No, thank you,” Dan was terse. “I’ll sort it out myself.”

After the fire marshal moved on, Dan stood alone in the wreckage of the bar for a long time. The smell was terrible, but he stayed there, enduring it like a punishment. Outside he heard more voices, heard the wagons departing and the low practical murmur of volunteers organizing to lend Sara a hand with the business of clearing up.

But inside the shell of his tavern there was just the char and the silence and the damning junction box with its scorch marks that he had failed to see.

Sometime after noon there was a knock on his door frame. It was Sara. She looked shellshocked, like she was only still upright through the force of sheer will.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Dan, but a family liaison officer came by to speak with me, and the others have gone off to lunch. Do you think you could sit with Leni while I chat with her?”

“Of course,” Dan agreed readily.

Little Leni was sitting on the low wall across the court. The small, serious six-year-old was cocooned in an oversized fuzzy blanket that was wrapped tight around her. All that was visible was her face and two fists clutching the corners of the frayed fabric.

Dan reached for his tote bag and stepped outside. He strode across the courtyard to sit on the wall beside her. Not close enough to crowd her. Just close enough to be present. He set his heavy tote bag down on the wall.

Leni glanced at him without turning her head. Her eyes were large, hazel and still puffy from crying.

Dan didn’t say anything. He reached into his bag and pulled out the sphinx trophy. Gingerly, he set it on the wall between them.

Leni turned her head now, evaluating the object with irrepressible curiosity, the inability to not look that was unique to clever children and cats. That same sort of curiosity had gotten him into a lot of trouble as a boy. But he still admired it in Leni. He suspected she would be a formidable witch, someday.

“It’s a sphinx,” he said. “Do you know what a sphinx is?”

She shook her head.

In the background he could hear the Primrose Court family liaison officer speaking to Leni’s mother. “Don’t worry, Sara. It’s moments like these where our community shines. You’ve been making thoughtful arrangements for everyone else and brightening our days for years. Now it’s our turn to take care of you.”

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop but couldn’t help overhearing. He wanted to believe the community would come through for Sara. But he had a hard time trusting people like the liaison officer. He’d never had much luck with the orphanage social workers.

“A sphinx is an old kind of magical creature. Lion body, human head,” he explained to Leni. “They were guardians in Ancient Egypt. They watched over things and kept them safe.” Dan kept his gaze on the trophy rather than looking directly at her. “I’ve been carrying this one around everywhere with me because I couldn’t find the right place to put her. But I think the thing about guardians is they need to go where they’re needed.” He paused for a moment. “I was wondering if you might look after it for me. Just while I get things sorted with the tavern. Maybe you could keep her safe until I can come and collect her?”

Leni considered this for a long moment with the gravity it deserved.

Then she scooted sideways and leaned to give the sphinx a hug. The blanket fell away as she laid her head on its back.

“Thank you.” Dan nodded, as if a formal arrangement had been settled. Leni was looking at the sphinx with the most serious, protective expression. It almost brought a tear to his eye. It was certainly the sweetest thing he’d seen since settling in Primrose Court.

Sara appeared at his shoulder a few minutes later. She looked at her daughter, then at him, with eyes that were weary and even more red-rimmed than her daughter’s.

“Leni hasn’t let go of that blanket since we left the house,” she said. “Are you sure you want to leave that statue with her? It looks valuable.”

“She’s doing me a favor,” Dan said. “I heard that the family council was arranging temporary housing for you, and I’m tired of dragging it back and forth between my rented room and the tavern. I need somewhere safe to keep it.”

Sara looked at him for a moment. He could feel her deciding whether to argue with his framing of the proposition. She chose to let it go. “Thank you,” she said. “You’re a good neighbor, Dandelion Wilder.”

Dan nodded once, not dismissively, to close the subject. He wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to continue to be her neighbor, given the scope of this setback.

Dan went back inside for one last look before leaving. He was numb again. A part of him was still wishing that a good night’s sleep at The Mudpuddle would wash away this nightmare.

As he stepped back out into the fresh air, he kicked something unexpected. When he looked down he found a small silver envelope, embossed with three distinctive seals. A rose, a sword, and a compass. The envelope had been laid across the threshold where he couldn’t miss it, but he hadn’t seen anyone pass by. It was unusual for him not to notice something like that.

There was no name on the outside of the envelope and no note. Inside was a stack of bills that, by sheer thickness alone, he was sure added up to a considerable sum.

Had he been so tired and distracted that he hadn’t noticed someone leaving a small fortune on his doorstep?