Chapter 5
FIVE
The rain started just after eight, a gentle patter against the bookstore’s windows that quickly intensified into a steady downpour.
Finn watched droplets race down the glass as he waited for Brendan to bring in the last of the equipment.
The weather forecast hadn’t mentioned rain—a small annoyance that seemed to fit perfectly with how the week was unfolding.
“Just what we need,” he muttered, checking his phone for messages from Brooklyn. Nothing since her curt at school text that morning. These moods didn’t typically last days at a time, and the fact that she was increasingly distant with him made it hard to focus on work.
“Sorry about that,” Brendan said, shaking water from his hair as he entered. “Raining cats, dogs, and possibly several other domesticated animals out there.”
Finn nodded, his attention already shifting to the exposed ceiling where they’d removed damaged drywall yesterday. The temporary plastic sheeting rustled with each new gust of wind that found its way through the building’s old bones.
“Where’s Ollie?” Brendan asked, glancing around the quiet store. “I expected him to be bouncing off the walls by now, offering us coffee and cracking jokes.”
“He’s in the office,” Finn replied, gesturing toward the rear of the store. “He’s been on the phone since we got here.”
He didn’t add that Ollie’s usual warmth had been noticeably absent this morning.
No coffee waiting, no rambling greetings—just a distracted wave and a tight smile before retreating to take a call.
The contrast to yesterday’s animated lunch conversation was stark enough that even Brendan seemed to have picked up on it.
“Insurance stuff still?” Brendan asked, setting down his toolbox with a thud that echoed through the empty store.
“Sounds like it.” Finn checked his watch. “The rest of the crew should be here in twenty. Let’s get started on that section we marked yesterday.”
They worked in companionable silence, setting up ladders and laying down additional protective sheeting. Finn’s body ached from using muscles that weren’t engaged when working in the office, but he needed to do something. The alternative was to hover, and that would just piss everyone off.
Ollie emerged from the office, phone still clutched in his hand. The shadows under his eyes had deepened overnight, and his hair looked like he’d been repeatedly running his hands through the curls.
“Sorry about that,” Ollie said, his voice missing its usual lilt. “Insurance adjusters are apparently allergic to giving straight answers. Or maybe it’s just me. Maybe I have a demeanor that screams ‘please, confuse me with bureaucratic doublespeak.’”
The attempt at humor fell flat, his smile not reaching his eyes.
“No problem,” Finn said, keeping his tone neutral despite his concern. “We’re just getting set up.”
Ollie nodded, gaze drifting to the exposed ceiling. “Any new insights on the damage? Now that you’ve had a chance to really look at it?”
Something in his voice—a thin thread of hope wrapped around resignation—made Finn hesitate.
“We’ll know more once we remove the rest of the damaged ceiling,” he said carefully. “But I’m still cautiously optimistic we can get this fixed without major structural work.”
It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either. The water damage looked worse with every sheet of drywall they removed, spreading farther than his initial assessment had indicated.
“Right. Optimistic. That’s good.” Ollie pushed his glasses up.
“I should let you get to it then. I’ll be around if you need anything.
I need to figure out a display for the front windows.
The community Facebook group is already speculating that we’ve shut down, so I want to make it clear we’re open for business. ”
As Ollie moved away, Brendan caught Finn’s eye, raising an eyebrow in silent question. Finn shook his head slightly—not now—and returned to his work, though his attention remained split.
The rest of the crew arrived, and the real work began. Finn kept noticing Ollie’s increasingly frequent calls, catching fragments of hushed, tense conversations:
“…they said the policy has a percentage deductible…”
“…adjuster says they need more documentation.”
“I know, Dad, but we can’t just…”
By mid-morning, the rain had intensified. Finn was balanced on a ladder, carefully removing a section of drywall near where the worst leak had occurred, when he spotted it—a dark, mottled pattern spreading across the wooden joists above. He was no expert, but that didn't look good.
“Brendan,” he called, voice low but urgent. “I need you to take a look at this.”
His brother climbed up the adjacent ladder, whistling low when he saw what Finn was pointing at. “That’s not good.”
“No,” Finn agreed grimly. “It’s not.”
The mold growth was extensive, spreading along the wooden supports in a pattern that suggested it had been developing well before the washing machine incident.
As optimistic as Ollie could be at times, Finn doubted he’d be able to see the silver lining.
It was a wonder no one who worked here had gotten sick from exposure already.
“We need to stop work and get a mold remediation specialist in here,” Finn said, already climbing down. “This changes everything.”
Brendan nodded, following him down. “Want me to call Keaton?”
“Yeah. And I need to talk to Ollie.” Finn ran a hand through his hair. “This is going to complicate things significantly.”
“Financially, you mean,” Brendan said quietly.
“Among other things.” They would likely have to remove every book from the store. Finn was pretty sure Ollie wouldn’t have to get rid of the books, but having them in the store when the remediation team came in wouldn’t be good.
Finn found Ollie near the front of the store, carefully rearranging a display of new releases.
“Ollie,” Finn said, keeping his voice steady. “We need to talk.”
Ollie turned, something in Finn’s tone making him straighten immediately. “That sounds ominous. What’s wrong?”
“We’ve found mold in the ceiling. Extensive mold that’s not new.” Finn gestured toward the back of the store. “It looks like it’s been developing for some time, which means there may have been a slower leak or a moisture issue before the washing machine hose burst.”
Ollie’s face drained of color. “Mold? How bad is it?”
“Bad enough that we need to stop working and bring in specialists before we can continue.” Finn kept his tone professional, though Ollie’s distress made something twist painfully in his chest. “It’s a health concern, and it needs to be addressed before we can move forward with the ceiling repair.”
“And the cost?” Ollie’s voice was barely audible over the sound of the rain.
“Significant. But your insurance should cover it since it’s related to the water damage.
” Even as he said it, Finn remembered the fragments of phone conversations he’d overheard.
He made a mental note to ask Keaton if he knew anything about the percentage deductible he’d heard Ollie mention when he was talking to his dad.
It didn’t sound standard to Finn, but he also wasn’t an expert at this sort of thing.
He could easily mind his own business, but he wanted to make sure Ollie’s family wasn’t being taken advantage of.
Ollie’s laugh was hollow. “Right. Insurance. The same insurance that’s already dragging its feet on the initial claim.” He pushed his glasses up, blinking rapidly. “Man, this sucks. I’d say it can’t get any worse, but knowing my luck, it would.”
“I’m sorry,” Finn said, meaning it deeply. “I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear.”
“Yeah, you can say that again,” Ollie scoffed, the words almost lost in a crack of thunder outside. He took a deep breath. “Okay. So we need mold specialists. And that means more delays, more costs, more time with the store in chaos.”
“Yes,” Finn confirmed. “We work with a few that are very good, so I will start reaching out to them to see when they can get in here. Also, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but now that we’ve discovered the issue and it’s exposed, I strongly recommend you shut down until the remediation is complete.
I’ll know for certain once I talk to them, but you may have to empty the store as well, so none of the books get damaged. ”
“Fuck. That’s just what I needed to hear.” Ollie’s voice cracked, his shoulders slumping forward. “I need to call my parents. Let them know. This is going to suck so hard.”
His hand trembled slightly as he reached for his phone.
“Take whatever time you need,” Finn said. “We’ll secure the area and make sure everything’s safe before we leave today.”
Ollie nodded vaguely, already pulling out his phone as he headed toward the back office. Finn wanted to follow, to offer some kind of comfort, but instead, he returned to the work area, where Brendan was already talking to Keaton on the phone.
“Yeah, it’s pretty bad,” Brendan was saying. “Finn thinks we need to bring in the mold guys before we can continue… No, he’s telling Ollie now… Yeah, I can imagine.”
As Finn worked on covering the exposed areas with plastic sheeting, Ollie’s voice occasionally rose just enough to carry—strained, defensive, increasingly desperate.
“I get what you’re saying, Mom. But I’m not walking away from the store—not now, not ever. I know it’s been tough, and I get that you and Dad are tired. But you built something worth saving. I care about you both, and I care about this place. It means everything to us.”
A particularly loud clap of thunder drowned out the rest, but Finn had heard enough to piece together the situation. The bookstore wasn’t just Ollie’s passion. It was his parents’ investment, a piece of their family history. And now it was in jeopardy.