Page 68 of Never Been Gargoyled
“That hardly matters now.” He rose and left.
Dazy and I sat in silence for a long time. The tea shop was equally quiet, heightening my bubble of shock and disappointment.
“This changes everything, doesn't it?” Dazy finally said.
I wanted to lie, to tell her it would be okay, but I couldn't. “It makes things more difficult.”
“She really is Helga's daughter. But Helga ignored her letters.” Dazy's voice was flat. “Maybe I don't deserve the estate after all.”
“Don't say that.” I reached across the table and tookher hand. “Helga made her choice for a reason. We just need to figure out what that reason was.”
But even as I said it, I could feel hope slipping away. The diary entries were damning.
I flew her home. I could feel Dazy withdrawing, building walls around herself to prepare for the inevitable loss. It made my chest ache.
“I'm going to work in the garden,” she said, her feet dragging as she crossed the foyer and started up the stairs to get changed.
I wanted to go with her, to stay close and offer comfort, but I could tell she needed space to process what we'd learned. Instead, I flew to the hardware store and bought the items needed to fix a toilet on the second floor.
The work helped channel my frustration. It felt like a small act of protection, a way to secure what might be our last few days in this place.
When I finished, I found Dazy in the side garden, pulling weeds with more force than necessary. She'd been crying. I could tell from the redness around her eyes.
I explained what I’d done inside.
“Thank you.”
I studied her hunched shoulders, the defeated slump of her posture. This wouldn't do. If we only had limited time left here, I wanted to spend it helping her create something beautiful, not wallowing in despair.
“Come with me,” I said. “I need to show you something.”
I led her to the boxes of lights I’d picked up at the hardware store and left on her porch. “I was thinking we could hang these in the trees. Create the magical atmosphere you talked about.”
For the first time since the meeting, her eyes lit up. “Really?”
“Really. And I found some materials to build benches. Stone and wood. They'll be sturdy enough to last for years.”
“Even if I'm not here to sit on them?”
“Especially then. Someone should benefit from your vision, even if it's not you.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon working together. I strung lights between tree branches while she directed me on placement, her artistic eye guiding the design. The physical work seemed to help her mood, and gradually, she started talking again.
“I keep thinking about how I'd run this place as a business,” she said as we took a break to admire our progress. “Like, how do you price admission so people can afford it, but you don't take a loss?”
“You'd need to calculate your operating costs first. Maintenance, utilities, staff if you hire any. Then factor in seasonal variations. You'll have more visitors in spring and summer than winter, though I’m sure you’ll be busy around the holidays.”
She looked at me with surprise. “You know about business management?”
“I helped Helga with the estate finances, and I have a minor in business.”
“What would you suggest for pricing?”
I thought about it. “Start with a modest admission fee and discount for children. You could offer annual memberships for locals. That creates a steady revenue base.”
“And special events?”
“Those could be higher. Seasonal festivals, educational workshops, evening events with the lights we’re installing. People will pay more for unique experiences.”
