I didn’t have to explain the name — people knew… people remembered him.
Work came slow at first, then it started rolling in.
One afternoon, I called one of my dad’s old guys. A carpenter named Mike who had worked with him for years.
I didn’t have to explain the name…
“Ellie?” he answered on the second ring.
“Hi, Uncle Mike.”
There was a pause, and then his voice softened.
“I’m glad you called. How are you holding up?”
“I’m… trying,” I admitted. “I opened the shop.”
“You reopened Ray’s shop?”
“How are you holding up?”
“I leased it,” I said. “And I’m running it. But I need people who knew him. People who cared about the work.”
“You want me to come by?” Mike asked.
“Yes, if you can,” I said quickly. “And I want you to help me take over. I can’t do this alone.”
“I’ll be there tomorrow,” he said. “And Ellie?”
“Yes?”
“You’re doing right by him, doll.”
“I can’t do this alone.”
Three months later, Cheryl showed up.
She pulled into the gravel lot like she still belonged. Her roots were a mess, and her heels clicked like a warning.
I stepped outside and shut the workshop door behind me.
“Can I help you?”
“I heard about the business,” she said. “And your… house.”
“I didn’t think you kept up with town gossip.”
Three months later, Cheryl showed up.
Her smile looked strained.
“Things have changed. I thought maybe we could talk, Eleanor.”
“I’m busy,” I said.
“Eleanor… we’re family,” she said, taking a step closer.
I met her gaze.
“Family doesn’t change the locks before a funeral, Cheryl.”
“I’m busy.”
“I was protecting what was rightfully mine!”
“Sure, but my dad also protected what was his — me.”
