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“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” Shane said, his eyes wide, his mouth fully open.

“I said that Mr. Bard there offered Dusty two hundred and fifty thousand dollars for the dragons,” Jerry said, thumping a bottle of whiskey down on the table.

“Holy fuck,” Shane said. “HOLY FUCK, Dustin…”

Laney was uncharacteristically quiet, tears welling in her eyes, as she squeezed Dustin's hand.

“So… how does this work?” Shane asked, rubbing the back of his head with both hands. “Like, do they just show up with a briefcase of cash and drive the building away?”

Jerry chuckled. “It’s up to Dustin, how we do this,” Jerry said. “They offered to pay by wire, and then have a crew come and disassemble it for him. But they also offered…”

“Offered what?” Laney asked.

“They offered Dusty a job,” Jerry said. “Said that he could use his own crew, his own crate system, be in charge of transport… They’d pay him for that, too. They don’ want the pieces to get damaged, see, an’ apparently Mildra isn’t a totally useless cunt because she told Mr. Bard that their transport system from the exhibit at the A.G.O. was – and I quote – ‘shockingly brilliant, considering it was designed by a bunch of nobodies’.”

“God she’s a piece of work, that woman,” Shane scowled.

“What do you think, Dustin?” Laney asked softly.

He stared at the edge of the table. “I never really planned to sell them. I just wanted to make them.”

He looked up at Laney, Shane, and Jerry, all patiently waiting for him to think things through, and felt almost suffocated with love. Dustin didn’t know a lot, but he knew that was big money. Life-changing money. Maybe the kind of money that meant they didn’t have to see Cary ever, ever again. But he also knew that if he told them all he didn’t want to sell his dragons, they’d support him and never bring it up again. His throat constricted, and he very much wanted to be somewhere else, somewhere private, where he could get some space from the crushing love, no matter how grateful he was for it.

“It’s up to you, man,” Shane said, his voice warm and full of pride.

Nancy cleared her throat. She was sitting on the couch, making herself available, always within Dustin’s peripheral vision, but giving them space as a family, not crowding them while they worked things out.

“May I make a suggestion?” she asked.

Dustin nodded, looking at her, her sparkling blue eyes clear and determined.

“Lease it out,” she said.

“What d’ya mean?” Jerry asked.

“Don’t sell the piece to Henry. Retain ownership. But lease it out, for a monthly fee. I know Henry, and there’s no way he’ll walk away from this piece. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted it moved to his personal residence, to be honest.”

“A lease…” Jerry said, chewing it over.

“Yes,” Dustin said immediately. “Yes, that. I want to do that.”

“I’d suggest a six-year agreement, for $3,500 per month,” she said.

“That’s… $42,000 per year, until he’s eighteen,” Shane said, doing the quick math in his head. “Two hundred and fifty thousand.”

“And then you can re-negotiate,” she said.

“For a flighty little thing you’ve got a mighty killer instinct for this, you know,” Jerry said with a smile.

“This is what you want, Dusty?” Laney asked. You’re sure? You don’t have to do it at all.

But Dustin nodded. “Yes, this is what I want. But I have a question…” he bit his lip, feeling embarrassed.

“Ask away my man!” Shane said, leaning back in the chair, his thumb rubbing Laney’s ring. He was always looking at it, always touching it. So was she.

“When I’m eighteen… I can buy a house, right? Like of my own?” he asked.

“Yes,” Jerry said. “Once you’re eighteen, my trustee status expires and you can do whatever you want with the money.”

“I want to buy a house. For me, and Laney, and Shane. And… I don’t want to buy it here.”

“What do you mean, not here?” Laney asked.

“I don’t want to live here, anymore. In Ontario. I want to leave, buy something somewhere else. Something far away from…” his voice trailed off.

Jerry whistled. “It’s a good idea, kid. Any idea where you want to go?”

“Far,” is all he said.

Jerry smiled at them, his eyes crinkling, and poured them each a finger of whiskey, including Dustin.

“To Dustin,” he said, raising his glass, “and his house in a land far, far away.”

They all raised their glasses and sipped, the funny-tasting liquid burning his throat and his nose. His eyes watered, and he held back a cough, not wanting to seem weak, but when he looked at Nancy again she was spluttering, making ugly choking noises.

She doesn’t like whiskey, either…

He smiled, thinking her eyes looked pretty, even when they watered.