Harold took a deep breath, looking around the room once more before looking back at me.

“I have an idea,” Harold said.

Before he could continue, my phone in my cardigan pocket began to vibrate.

The sharp, modern buzz broke the quiet of the old workshop.

I pulled it out and looked at the screen.

It was a text message from David.

I stared at the screen, my breath catching in my throat as I read the words.

“What is it, Mom?” Rachel asked, stepping into the workshop behind us, her wet hair clinging to her forehead.

I showed her the screen, the light of the phone reflecting in her wide eyes.

Rachel read the words aloud in a whisper.

“The liquidator is coming at five o’clock,” she said.

She looked up at me, her fingers trembling slightly against my arm.

“He’s going to let them go for next to nothing, Mom.”

I looked down at the screen of my phone.

The message from David was brief and cold.

*Found a buyer for the workshop lot. Five thousand for everything. He’s bringing a truck at five.*