Page 2 of Rules to Love By

“Anyway,” Tris said after a few minutes, “thanks for doing this. Kreed and Lucky are really happy it’s done, and Ozzy’s just glad it wasn’t another thing on his plate.”

“Happy to.” Marcus touched the carvings again, easing a small splinter away from the edge of one of the engravings in the rail, then hitting the spot lightly with the fine sandpaper again. “This is what I can do in exchange for them letting me stay here.”

Tris ran a finger over the veins of one of the carved leaves floating along the panel mounted under the handrail.

They sat, sipped coffee, and listened to the chickadees squabble over the last few seeds in the feeder hanging from a tree branch. One of them dive-bombed the feeder, scattering those perched on its edges and sending a spray of seeds into the air.

“God, they are vicious little buggers,” Tris muttered.

“Just hungry.”

“They’re fat and spoiled.”

Marcus snickered. “Yeah, okay. Maybe.”

Tris bumped shoulders with him, then shivered and rested his head on Marcus’s shoulder. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why are you still here?”

“What do you mean? Like here at the Oaks?” He shifted so Tris had to sit up and Marcus could see his face. “Do Lucky and Kreed want me to move out?”

“God, no. One hundred percent you can stay as long as you need to.”

“So…?”

“I mean in Griffon’s Elbow. Why are you still hanging around here? Don’t you have a diner to run? It’s been weeks. How long can you just stay closed?”

Marcus sighed and wished Tris would put his head back on his shoulder. “I don’t know what to do about Johnathan locking me out.”

“Break in.”

“It’s not my diner, Tris. It was Aunt Iris’s, and I don’t know what she wanted to do with it.”

“There’s no will?”

“If there is, I haven’t heard anything about it. Johnathan wouldn’t tell me anyway.”

“But you live there. He can’t lock you out of your home.”

“Who knows.” Marcus got up and began to gather his tools. He’d loved helping his aunt run the diner. Why she’d given his lazy, mean uncle the manager’s title, he’d never understood, but she had, and now he was locked out of his life as a result.

Tris helped him fit the small chisels into their leather sleeves. “You don’t honestly think she would rather see Johnathan sell it all off for profit than you running it, do you?”

“Who knows what she wanted? She let him run the place into the ground, then came to me when something needed to be fixed because we couldn’t afford repairmen.”

“She knew you could handle things.”

“Did she, though?”

“Please tell me you are not asking me that question like you don’t know the answer to it.”

“I know what I want the answer to be.” It was six years ago, when he’d been struggling to graduate high school, that she’d given the title of manager to her official nephew, Johnathan. But she’d never changed her mind despite his mismanagement and selfish disregard for her and her diner. He sighed. “I’m not the manager, am I?” With the chisels all in place, he rolled up the leather pouch and tied it closed, holding it out for Tris. “Tell Ozzy thanks for letting me borrow these, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course.” Tris tucked the tools under one arm. “Did it never occur to you that Johnathan wanted the title, and having it kept him quiet? You never asked her for anything—”

“She took me in. Gave me a home. That was enough.”

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