“Carol.”
I looked at her.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
She glanced toward Ben.
“I should have told you sooner.”
“Told me what?”
Ben cut in.
“This isn’t the place.”
Laura’s expression hardened.
“I think it is exactly the place.”
Then she looked at me.
“Ben and Owen want to buy the old hardware store by the river.”
I frowned.
Owen had been Ben’s friend since college.
“What does that have to do with my house?”
Ben spoke quickly.
“It doesn’t. Not exactly.”
Laura gave him a look.
“Tell her the whole thing.”
He dragged a chair over and sat.
“The building has been empty for years.”
“I know.”
“Owen wants to convert the front into small retail stalls. The back would become a workshop. Furniture repair. Classes. Custom work.”
“You always said Dad should’ve opened his own shop,” he added.
That part was true.
Frank had built cabinets every weekend in our garage.
Cedar dust coated everything.
He dreamed about opening a little woodworking shop someday.
He never did.
I looked at Ben.
“I said your father had talent. I did not offer you my house.”
“No one is taking your house.”
Laura laughed once.
It held no humor.
“Tell her what you submitted.”
Ben looked at her.
“Laura.”
“Tell her.”
He turned back to me.
“It was only an early proposal.”
“With my information?”
Ben hesitated.
That was answer enough.
“What information?”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
