His eyes were calm, gray, and steady.

“It is a business transaction,” he said.

“No, it isn’t,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s charity. We’ve only just met, relatively speaking.”

“We are friends, Eleanor,” Harold said gently.

“And I know what it is to want to preserve something of the person you loved.”

He looked down at his own hands, then back at the tools.

“I will buy them,” Harold said.

“I will pay ten thousand dollars for the entire workshop.”

Rachel let out a small, sharp breath.

“Ten thousand?” she asked.

“That is more than enough to cover his arrears and give him some breathing room,” Harold said.

“But Harold,” I said, my voice cracking. “What would you do with all of this?”

“I would leave them right here,” Harold said.

He gestured to the dusty shelves and the pegboards.

“They belong in this room,” he said.

“They belong to Arthur’s family.”

“But then you’re just giving us money,” I said.

“No,” Harold said, stepping closer to me.

“I am purchasing an asset.”

“If David ever wants to buy them back, he can,” Harold said.