Tobin Strake’s money had roofs attached.
Lyra recognized one address before he finished explaining the schedule.
Damaged lodging. Replacement tools. A market structure that could put several people back to work.
Marn Tebb’s shop appeared among the proposed beneficiaries.
She’d seen a recovered ledger carried from one difficult desk to another. Now the numbers beside his name were large enough to become timber.
Strake watched her read.
“My company can make a difference.”
“Yes.”
