Chapter 5: The Roof

By eight the next morning, Elliot had hung a chain across the end of Cormorant Lane.

A sheet of plywood hung from it.

PRIVATE WAY. BOATYARD TRAFFIC ONLY.

"That won't stop a fan," I said from the porch.

"It'll stop a rental car," he said. "Fans have to get out and walk. The whole street watches a walker."

He was right.

By ten, two women in sun hats were standing at the chain looking up at the cottage.

By ten past, three old men from the yard had wandered over to ask them if they were lost.

By eleven, the women left.

I stood at the window with my coffee and felt something I hadn't felt in years.

Somebody else was standing between me and the world, and I hadn't asked him to.

Then it rained.

It came in sideways off the water, and a drip started in Poppy's room above her bed.

I was dragging a bucket across the floor when Elliot knocked on the frame of the open door.

"Your roof's gone on the north side," he said. "I saw it from the yard."

"I'll call someone."

"There's nobody in Port Hollis who'll climb up in this weather, except me."

"Then I'll wait until it's dry."

"The ceiling won't."

I looked at the bucket.

It was already half full.

"I'll pay you."

"Sadie."

"I said I don't take favors."

"This isn't a favor. It's your mother's roof, and I promised her I'd keep it up."

I opened my mouth to argue and he looked at me, patient and immovable, and I shut it again.

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