The door was cracked open when Dash returned the next morning, a bag of bagels in one hand, a half-eaten one in his other. He nudged the door the rest of the way open with a foot, only to find Merry sitting in front of the reindeer, delicately stripping away the paint with the sandpaper. She worked in small, delicate strokes, careful to keep the original detail work. He set the bagels on a stool and headed for the Star Horse.
“Help yourself,” he said with a gesture towards the bag.
“I don’t take charity.”
“Then don’t work.” He leveled her a glare over the back of the once black stallion. “If you work here, you eat. If you refuse to eat, then find a stool and watch. Understood?”
Her lips quirked in a small smile but she made no argument. Instead, she snatched two bagels from the bag and watched as he picked up another strip of sandpaper and settled in to work on the horse.
“Are you always this demanding?”
He shrugged. They fell into an easy silence, the stroke of rough paper against the carousel beasts, the crunch of bagels in between. Around midday, Dash stretched his legs out in front of him and set the paper aside, resting his arms. Merry stood near the reindeer, arms over her head, stretching. Her coat sat on the stool next to her, leaving a ratty sweatshirt on her thin frame… a color Dash couldn’t even recognize. She caught him watching and moved along the back wall, her attention on the silver bells dangling from their harness.
The silent bells.
She ran her fingers over the worn leather. It was buttery soft, Dash knew, but he also knew that for years of work, it had not one crack in it. It still fit the animal it was made for like a glove. Her fingers circled a bell, tracing the x shape where once beautiful sound had played. Then with two fingers, she bounced it.
Nothing.
“Beautiful,” Merry whispered and Dash frowned. She looked over at him. “It’s beautiful.”
She jiggled the bell against her fingers again and closed her eyes. “I could sleep to this music,” she whispered.
Dash rose and closed the distance between them in just a few short strides, his hand closing over hers. “Don’t,” he said. “Thank you, but don’t.”
He dropped her hand and headed for the door. “I’m going for lunch. You can start the Polar Bear next.”
He shut the door firmly between them, his hands shaking. They were supposed to lay silent. They weren’t supposed to chime.
Dash headed up the street towards Rizzoli’s Pizza Grill, but he wasn’t hungry anymore.
