Chapter 2 The New Shop

"Alright, we have a lot of work to do, and it's already late," said his dad, setting the lantern on the floor by the door. "Here's my hammer, I'll let you go ahead and get started, while I go fetch some more tools. We'll need nails to hammer the floors back in…"

Robert took the hammer and watched as his father left him. He knew that he would be back, but he couldn't help but feel as if he was being abandoned to do all the work himself. Feeling a chill crawl up his spine, he shoved the door shut before turning to look around.

This place was huge, despite its crumbling interior, and once it was fixed up, it would be all his! Excitement began to nibble at him as he hefted the heavy tool and got started.

The boards on the floor were easy to break free, as they all but crumbled under the hammer blows. He gave up on the heavy thing, when his arms began to ache, and just grabbed the boards and pulled them up. When he didn't have the strength for that anymore, he kicked them up. Underneath the floorboards, he found where water had seeped up and rotted them, but left the main support boards for the entire building alone. Whoever had built this place had put rocks against the support boards to protect them, to some extent, and it seemed to work. Robert could see where animals had dug tunnels around where the rocks were, which let the water in.

"Robert?" called his father, from outside, unable to open the door.

Jerking on the door as hard as he could, they were finally able to get it open again. His dad had a bag of nails, several miscellaneous tools for working on the floor, as well as ones for cleaning a chimney. Robert turned to look around, and finally spotted the tiny fireplace in the corner, behind the broken door, where he would be standing behind the counter.

"Wow! You've really done a fantastic job!" He leaned down to inspect the space under the floors and grunted in annoyance. "It's a good thing we haven't had rain in a bit, or this would be a muddy mess. Once we make a little profit, we'll shore up this underside with some good rock, but for now, we'll just patch it. Why don't you head upstairs and start prying the good boards loose, and I'll nail them to the floor?"

"Alright," said Robert, yawning as he took the prybar his father held out. It wasn't very heavy, and he was grateful for that. Making sure to stay as close to the wall as he could, he made his way carefully up the rotten steps.

"I can't see very well up here," he called down.

"I brought another lantern. Here, take this one," his father said, handing up the light he had been using.

Robert hung it on a hook, that looked to be placed for just that purpose, and surveyed the floor before him. It looked like it was still in good condition, without any warping or rotting from wetness. Gritting his teeth against the exhaustion, he started in a back corner, prying the boards up once or twice. Other than grunting at him to try and not damage them, his dad didn't say much. Robert would pry up a board, and hand it down, and his dad would nail it in place.

As the night wore on, he moved slower and slower, until finally, he couldn't manage to lift his arms. He wasn't even sure how long he had been sitting still, not moving.

"Robert?" called his dad, "I think we're done. I'm going to move this broken door for the moment, and we'll worry about these stairs later. Can you get down here?"

Robert turned his head, and looked at the stairs.

"I'm pretty tired," he said, his words slightly slurring. "Can I just lay down here, and take a nap until morning?"

There was silence down below, so he slid down, where he was sitting, and the moment he closed his eyes he was out.

"Hello?" someone shouted.

Robert jerked awake. He instantly regretted it, as everything hurt. He had gotten cold, over the night, and stiff.

"Is anyone here to sign for this delivery?" asked the same voice.

"One moment!" he called, trying to mask his pain as he dragged himself over to the wall to pull himself up. His arms felt like limp noodles. His knees were determined to crack and creak, but he finally pulled himself up. Limping a couple of steps, until his young body decided it could function after all, he made his way over to the stairs in the early morning light.

"I thought this place was a disaster," whispered one man.

"Sure doesn't look it. We'll have to tell the boss," whispered the other.

Robert made his way down the stairs, making it look as if someone had beat him up in the night.

"Where do you want us to put everything?" asked the first guy, who was the same one who had mentioned it should have been a disaster.

Robert looked around, as if deliberating, and saw that his dad had done a really nice job of replacing the floor boards. He didn't know where the old rotten ones were, but they were out of sight, so that was something.

"How about by the door, just inside the shop? I'll need to go through everything before moving it too far," he said, not even sure what all they were bringing in.

The two men glanced at each other before shrugging and got to work bringing in crates and shelves. Robert stayed out of their way, even though he was dying to see what all was in the crates.

"Please move those shelves over there," he said, as he suddenly realized he wouldn't be able to move them himself.

"Alright," the men said, before moving them where he instructed.

It was only a few moments more, and they were gone, leaving the door open behind them. Robert went to shut it, expecting it to stick like before, and found that it swung easily. Looking at it closely, he saw that his dad must have shaved the bottom some, so it didn't drag. He also shoved some shims into the door frame, to make it swing level, instead of at a slant.

Where was his dad? Robert looked at the large crates, and wondered how he was going to open them. It took two full grown men to move them, so how was he, a small twelve-year-old boy, supposed to do it?

Suddenly, an idea struck him, and he looked at the wooden crates again. The wood used on them, was almost the right size for the stairs. If he was careful enough opening them, he could reuse the wood! His dad, or any other adult might not be able to go up the stairs, because they wouldn't hold their weight, but Robert was kind of alright with that.

Grabbing the prybar he had used the night before, he started taking the boxes apart. The bag of nails were stashed up under the stairs, along with the hammer his dad had been using. Sucking in a breath as he looked over the blisters that had formed and burst over the long night of work, he contemplated leaving the work for his dad. But then he thought about how proud his dad had been of him the night before, and reminded himself that this was going to be his shop.

Moving slowly, he pried one board off of the box, pried a board up off the stairs, then nailed the new board in place, before moving back to get another one off the box. He figured this way was longer, but if anyone else arrived at the shop, they wouldn't see a torn apart mess, and it gave his body a chance to rest as he shuffled back and forth.

Robert didn't hear the first faint knock, thinking it was the sound of his footsteps as he shuffled across the floor with the next board, but the second was just loud enough to catch his attention.

"Yes?" he called. "The door is open, but I'm afraid we're not open for business yet."

The door creaked open and his maid peeked around the corner.

"Oh! You poor dear! I had no idea your father would force you to work all night and day! You must be starving!"

The moment she mentioned food, Robert felt his stomach lurch. Seeing the basket she held, he immediately fell to the floor, legs crossed and waited to see what she had.

"You haven't done that since you were really little," she chuckled, shutting the door behind her and handing him the basket before looking around.

Robert didn't pay any attention to her. He could smell the fresh bread and leftover stew. He didn't even care that it was stew.

"Did you know that they planned to open the gates today?" she asked.