The Perfect Hope Part 14

"That's fine. Call if you need reinforcements. Boys." Maternal warning vibrated in the single word. "Do what you're told. I'll know if you misbehave-even if they don't tell me. I'm right down the street," she said to Beckett.

"How come she knows even when she's not there?" Murphy demanded when Clare left. "'Cause she does."

"The mysterious power of mother," Beckett told him.

"Anyway, if you screw around we'll just drill you to the wall by your shoes. Upside down," Ryder added. "You got the runt?"

"Yeah." Beckett laid a hand on Murphy's head.

"I'll take pb and j over to the apartments. He can help with lock set."

"How come I'm pb and j?" Liam demanded.

"Because you're the middle."

"I won't be the middle when the babies come. Murphy will."

"He did the math," Beckett said, stupidly proud.

"Another math geek? We'll set Owen up as his keeper when he gets here. I'll take this one." He put Harry in a headlock that thrilled the boy to his toes. "He's not as short as the others. We'll head over to the gym. I'll dump the temporary middle over the bakery on the way."

"Great. Thanks." As Ryder left with two boys in tow, Beckett turned to Murphy. "We'd better get our tools."

Murphy smiled, angel sweet. "Our tools."

Since both men working in the apartment had kids, Ryder figured they wouldn't let Liam do anything overly stupid. Still, he hung around several minutes, setting the boy up with light switch covers, a small screwdriver.

The kid was about eight, he thought, and had good hands. He also-maybe that middle child thing-had the most devious mind of the three, and the quickest temper.

"You get a buck an hour if you don't screw up. Screw up," Ryder told him, "you get zilch."

"How much is zilch?"

"Nothing."

"I don't want zilch," Liam protested.

"n.o.body does, so don't screw up. He gives you grief," Ryder told his men, "take him to Beck. Let's go, Harry Caray."

"I should get more than Liam, because I'm older."

"A buck an hour," Ryder repeated as they went down the outside steps. "That's the deal across the board."

"I could get a bonus."

Amused, and a little fascinated, Ryder studied Harry as they walked. "What the h.e.l.l do you know?"

"Mom gives people bonuses at Christmas because they work hard."

"Okay, talk to me at Christmas."

"Am I going to get to use one of those guns that shoots nails?"

"Sure. In about five years."

"Gran says you're making a place where people come to exercise and have fun getting healthy."

"That's the plan."

"We have to eat broccoli 'cause it's healthy, except when we have Man Night, and we don't."

"The beauty of Man Night is broccoli is never on the menu."

"Am I going to measure stuff? I have a tape measure at home Beckett gave me, but I didn't bring it."

"We've got some spares."

When they stepped in, Harry stood, all eyes.

With demo complete, they had exterior walls, a c.r.a.p roof, and a s.p.a.ce big as a barn. Saws buzzed, hammers banged, nail guns thwacked as the crew worked.

"It's big," Harry said. "I didn't think it was big, but it is. How come there's nothing in it?"

Ryder answered simply. "Because what was here was no good. We'll build what is."

"You just build it? The whole thing? How do you know?"

Realizing the kid meant it literally, Ryder walked him over to the plans.

"Beckett made them. I saw him. The roof part doesn't look like that."

Okay, Ryder thought, the kid not only had a lot of questions-which struck him as sensible-but he paid attention. Maybe they were making the next generation of contractors.

"It will. We're going to take the old roof off."

"What if it rains?"

"We'll get wet."

Harry grinned up at him. "Can I build something?"

"Yeah. Let's get you a hammer."

HE ENJOYED HIMSELF. The kid was bright and eager, with that willingness to do anything that came from never doing it before. And funny, often deliberately. Ryder had helped wrangle the kids and tools a few times when they'd finished Beckett's house, so he knew Harry was reasonably careful. He liked to learn; he liked to build.