The Manager had returned a week after bringing Wallace back to life. And with him came their second Husk, a woman with black teeth and a vacant stare. Wallace frowned at the sight of her, but he wasn’t afraid.

  “Do what you will,” the Manager said, offering no further assistance. He sat in a chair, munching on a plate of leftover scones.

  “You’re not going to help?” Wallace asked.

  The Manager shook his head. “Why should I? A successful manager knows how to delegate. You figure it out.”

  They did, eventually, because of Mei. As the Manager looked on, she stood in front of the Husk. She took her hand. Mei grimaced, and if it was anything like it’d been with Cameron, Wallace knew she was seeing flashes of the woman’s life, all the choices she’d made that had led to her becoming as she was. By the time she let the woman go, she was crying. Hugo reached for her, but Mei shook her head. “It’s all right,” she said weakly. “It’s just … a lot. All at once.” She wiped her eyes. “I know how to help her. It’s like it was with Wallace and Cameron. Hugo, it’s up to you.”

  Hugo stepped forward, and though Wallace couldn’t see it, he knew Hugo grabbed the hook in his own chest, pulling it out with a grunt. The air in the tea shop grew hot as he pressed the hook into the Husk. She gagged as her skin filled with the colors of life. She bent over, clutching her sides as the black of her teeth turned to white.

  “Wh-aaat,” the woman said. “Wha-aaaat is … this? What. Is happening?”

  “You’re safe,” Hugo said. He glanced at Wallace who arched an eyebrow, a pointed look at Hugo’s chest. Hugo nodded, and Wallace breathed a sigh of relief. Another hook had appeared in Hugo’s chest, connecting him to the woman. It’d worked. “I’ve got you. Can you tell me your name?”

  “Adriana,” she whispered.

  The Manager muttered through a mouthful of scone.

  Since that day, they’d helped a dozen more Husks. Sometimes it was Mei. Other times, it was Wallace. There were days when they’d leave to find the Husks themselves, and others when the Husks would appear on the road leading to the tea shop, surrounded by hoofprints in the dirt. Some were harder than others. One had been a Husk for close to two hundred years and didn’t speak English. They’d managed to help him by the skin of their teeth, but Wallace knew that it would only get easier from there. They’d do what they could for all who came to them.

  The people of the town were curious about this new addition to Charon’s Crossing. It didn’t take long for rumors to spread about Wallace and his relationship with Hugo. People came in to gawk at him. The older women cooed, the younger women seemed disappointed that Hugo was off the market (as did a few of the men, much to Wallace’s complicated glee), and it wasn’t long before the newness of it all faded and Wallace became yet another fixture of the town. They waved at him when they saw him on the sidewalk or in the grocery store. He always waved back.

  Wallace Price became Wallace Reid. At least, that’s what his new ID and Social Security card said. Mei told him not to ask too many questions when she’d handed them to him after returning from a three-day trip to visit her mother, which she said had gone better than she expected. “Mom knows people,” she said, lips quirking. “She picked out the last name for you. Showed her a couple of pictures of you, and she told me to tell you the surname is because you’re thin as a reed, and that you need to eat more.”

  “I’ll write her a thank-you note,” Wallace said, distracted as he brushed a finger over his new name.

  “Good. She’s expecting you to.”

  Desdemona Tripplethorne returned to the tea shop, telling them she wanted to see the new employee at Charon’s Crossing for herself. Squat Man and Thin Man crowded behind her, staring at Wallace. Desdemona studied him as he fidgeted. Finally, her brow furrowed, and she said, “Have … have we met? I swear I know you from somewhere.”

  “No,” Wallace said. “How could we have? I’ve never been here before.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” she said slowly. She shook her head. “My name is Desdemona Tripplethorne, I’m sure you’ve heard of me. I’m a clairvoyant—”

  Mei coughed. It sounded strangely like bullshit.

  Desdemona ignored her. “—and I come here from time to time to speak to the spirits that haunt this place. I know how it sounds. But there is more to the world than you could possibly know.”

  “Is there?” Wallace asked. “How do you know?”

  She tapped the side of her head. “I have a gift.”

  She left an hour later, disappointed when the planchette on her Ouija board and the feather quill hadn’t moved even a millimeter. She would be back, she announced grandly before leaving the tea shop in a swirl of self-entitlement, Thin Man and Squat Man hurrying after her.

  It went on, life did, ever forward. Good days, the not-so-good days, the days when he wondered how he could stand being surrounded by death for much longer. It hit Hugo too; though few and far between, he still had panic attacks, days when his breath would catch in his chest, lungs constricting. Wallace never tried to force him through the attacks, just sat on the back deck with him, tap, tap, tapping, Apollo alert at Hugo’s feet. When Hugo recovered, breaths slow and deep, Wallace whispered, “All right?”

  “I will be,” Hugo said, taking Wallace’s hand in his own.

  It wasn’t always Husks. Spirits still came to them, spirits who needed someone like Hugo as their ferryman. Often, they were angry and destructive, bitter and cold. Some of them stayed for weeks, ranting and raving about how they didn’t want to be dead, that they didn’t want to be trapped here, they were going to leave, and nothing was going to stop them, pulling at the cables extending from their chests to Hugo’s, threatening to remove the hook that kept them grounded.

  They didn’t.

  They always stayed.

  They listened.

  They learned.

  They understood, after a time. Some just took longer than others.

  But that was okay.

  Each of them found their way to the door, and to what came after.

  After all, Charon’s Crossing was nothing but a way station.

  At least for the dead.

  It was the living who found their roots growing deep in the earth. Tea plants, Hugo had once told Wallace, required patience. You had to put in the time and have patience.

  Which is why, on a summer evening, when Nelson said, “I think it’s time,” Wallace knew what he meant.

  But any reply he had dried up in his throat when he saw who stood before him.

  Gone was the elderly man leaning on a cane.

  In his place stood a much younger man, back straight, hands clasped behind him as he looked out the window, cane gone as if it’d never been there at all. Wallace recognized him immediately. He’d seen this very man in many of the photographs hanging on the walls of the tea shop and in Hugo’s room, mostly in black and white or grainy color.

  “Nelson?” he whispered.

  Nelson turned his head and smiled. His wrinkles were gone, replaced by the smooth skin of someone far younger. His eyes were twinkling. He was bigger, stronger. His hair sat in a black Afro on his head, much like his grandson’s. Decades had melted away until before Wallace stood a man who looked as young as Hugo. What had Nelson said?

  It’s simple, really. I like being old.

  “You stayed as you were because it’s how Hugo knew you when you were alive,” Wallace said hoarsely.

  “Yes,” Nelson said. “I did. And I’d do it all over again if I had to, but I think it’s time for what I want. And Wallace, I want this.”

  Wallace wiped his tears away. “You’re sure.”

  He looked back out the window. “I am.”

  * * *

  Mei made them tea as the rest gathered in the darkened tea shop, moonlight bathing the forest around them. Hugo sat in a chair, bandana in his lap (black with little yellow ducks), looking around the tea shop with a quiet smile on his face.

  Mei brought the tea tray out, setting it on the table. The scent of chai filled the room, thick and heady. Hugo poured tea for each of them, the cups filled to the brim. He handed them each a cup, setting a bowl down on the floor for Apollo, who began to lap at the liquid frantically. Wallace couldn’t bring himself to drink from his own cup, worried his hands would shake too much.

  “This is nice,” Hugo said as Mei sat next to him. He had yet to comment on his grandfather’s appearance. He’d looked momentarily stunned when he’d seen Nelson as he was now, but had quickly covered it up. Wallace knew he was waiting for Nelson to bring it up. “We should do this more often. Just us, at the end of the day.” He looked at each of them in turn, smile fading when his gaze found Wallace, who failed miserably in his attempt to school his expression. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  Wallace cleared his throat and said, “Nothing. It’s nothing. I—”

  “Hugo,” Nelson said, a thin line of chai on his upper lip. “My dear Hugo.”

  Hugo looked at him.

  And just like that, he knew.

  Empathetic almost to a fault.

  Hugo set his cup down on the table.

  He closed his eyes.

  He said, “Grandad?” in a small voice.

  “It’s time,” Nelson said. “I’ve lived a long life. A good life. I’ve loved. I’ve been loved in return. I made something out of nothing. This place. This tiny tea shop. My wife, my heart. My children. And you, Hugo. Even when it became just the two of us, I held on as tightly as I could. I worried that I wouldn’t be enough, that you wanted more than I could give you.”

  “I didn’t,” Hugo croaked. “I didn’t want anything else.”

  “Perhaps not,” Nelson agreed gently. “But you’ve found it all the same. You’ve found it in Mei and Wallace, but even before them, you were already on your way. You’ve built this life, this wonderful life with your own hands. You took the tools I gave you and made them your own. What more could a man ask for?”

  “It hurts,” Hugo said as he lifted his head. He pressed a hand against his chest above his heart.

  Mei sobbed into her hands, little hiccupping breaths.

  “I know,” Nelson said. “But I can leave now, secure in the knowledge that you stand on your own two feet. And when the days come that you don’t think you’ll be able to, you’ll have others to ensure you will. That’s the point, Hugo. That’s the point of all of this.”

  “Grief,” Hugo choked out. “It’s grief.” Apollo tried to nose at his hand, ever the service dog he’d been in life. He settled on the floor next to Hugo’s feet, nose inches from Hugo’s toes.

  “It is,” Nelson agreed. “We’ll see each other again. But not for a long, long time. You have a life to live, and it’ll be filled with such color and joy that it’ll take your breath away. I just wish…” He shook his head.

  “What?” Hugo asked.

  “I wish I could hug you,” Nelson said. “One last time.”

  “Mei.”

  “On it, boss,” Mei said. She moved quickly, tapping her finger against her palm. The air stuttered, and then she was hugging Nelson with all her might. Nelson laughed brightly, face toward the ceiling, tears streaming down his face.

  “Yes,” he said. “This is fine. This is fine, indeed.”

  When Mei pulled away, Nelson smiled.

  “When?” Hugo asked.

  “I think at sunrise.”

  * * *

  Those who came to Charon’s Crossing Tea and Treats the next morning were surprised to find the front door locked once more, a sign in the window with an apology, saying that the tea shop would be closed that morning for a special event. It was okay. They would come back.

  Inside, Hugo rose unsteadily to his feet. They’d spent the night together in front of the fireplace, Nelson in his chair, the fire crackling. Wallace and Mei and Apollo had listened as the two men told stories of their youth, tales of their family who’d gone on before them.

  But a river only moves in one direction, no matter how much we wish it weren’t so.

  The night sky began to lighten.

  Nelson’s eyes were closed. He whispered, “I can hear it. The door. The whispers. The song it’s singing. It knows I’m ready.”

  Hugo gripped Wallace’s hand tightly. “Grandad?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  “For?”

  “Everything.”

  Nelson chuckled. “That’s quite a lot to be thankful for.”

  “I mean it.”

  “I know you do.” He opened his eyes. “I’m a little frightened, Hugo. I know I shouldn’t be, but I am all the same. Isn’t that funny?”

  Hugo shook his head slowly. He squared his shoulders and became the ferryman he was. “There’s nothing for you to fear. You’ll no longer know pain. You’ll no longer know suffering. There will be peace for you. All you have to do is rise through the door.”

  “Will you help me?” Nelson asked.

  And Hugo said, “Yes. I’ll help you. Always.”

  Nelson rose from his chair slowly. He was unsteady on his feet, swaying side to side. “Oh,” he whispered. “It’s louder now.”

  Hugo stood. He looked down at Mei and Wallace and Apollo. “Will you come with us?”

  Mei hung her head. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” Hugo said. “I’m sure. Grandad?”

  “I’d like that very much,” Nelson said.

  And so they did.

  They followed Nelson and Hugo up the stairs to the second floor.

  To the third.

  To the fourth.

  They gathered below the door. Wallace knew what Nelson was hearing, though he could no longer hear it himself.

  Nelson turned to face them. “Mei. Look at me.”

  She did.

  “You have a gift,” Nelson told her. “One that cannot be denied. But it’s the immensity of your heart that makes you who you are. Never forget where you come from, but don’t allow it to define you. You have made your place here, and I doubt there will ever be a better Reaper than you.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Wallace,” Nelson said. “You were an asshole.”

  Wallace choked.

  “And yet, you’ve managed to move beyond it to become the man who stands before me. An honorary Freeman. Perhaps one day you’ll become an actual Freeman, like Mei. I can think of no better man to share a name with.”

  Wallace nodded dumbly.

  “Apollo,” Nelson said. “You—”

  “Should go with him,” Hugo said quietly.

  Apollo cocked his head up at Hugo.

  Hugo crouched before him. Apollo tried to lick his face, but his tongue went through Hugo’s cheek. “Hey, boy,” Hugo said. “I need you to listen to me, okay? I have a job for you. Sit.”

  Apollo sat promptly, cocking his head as he watched Hugo.

  Hugo said, “You’re my best friend. You did more for me than almost anyone else. When I was lost and couldn’t breathe, you grounded me. You reminded me that it was okay to hurt so long as I didn’t let it consume me. You did your part, and now I need to do the same for you. I want you to do me a favor. Keep an eye on Grandad for me. Make sure he doesn’t get into too much trouble, okay? At least until I can join you.”

  Apollo’s ears flattened against his skull as his head drooped. He whined softly, trying to butt his head against Hugo’s knee to no avail.

  “I know,” Hugo whispered. “But I swear we’ll run together again one day. I won’t forget it or you. Go, Apollo. Go with Grandad.”

  Apollo stood. He looked between Hugo and Nelson as if unsure. For a moment, Wallace thought he’d ignore Hugo’s order and stay right where he was.

  He didn’t.

  He barked at Hugo, a low woof before he turned toward Nelson. Apollo circled Nelson, sniffing at his legs before pressing his snout against Nelson’s hand. Nelson smiled down at him. “You ready, Apollo? I think we’re going on an adventure. I wonder what we’ll see?”

  Apollo licked his fingers.

  Hugo rose from his crouch. He moved until he stood in front of his grandfather. Wallace thought he’d hesitate, if only for a moment. He didn’t. He raised his hand toward Nelson’s chest, and the moment his fingers closed around the hook only he and Nelson could see, Nelson said, “Hugo?”

  Hugo looked at him.

  Nelson said, “I’ll be seeing you, okay?”

  Hugo grinned brilliantly. “Damn right you will.” And then he pulled the hook free. He turned and did the same to Apollo, the dog yipping once.

  Hugo stood upright, taking a deep breath as he raised his hand above his head toward the doorknob. His fingers covered the leaf, and with a twist of his wrist, the door opened.

  White light spilled out, the song of life and death like a symphony.

  “Oh,” Nelson said, voice hushed in reverence. “I never … I never thought … All this light. All these colors. I think … yes. Yes, I hear you. I see you, oh my god, I see you.” He laughed wildly as his feet left the floor, Apollo looking comically surprised as his did the same. “Hugo!” Nelson cried. “Hugo, it’s real. All of it is real. It’s life. It’s life.”

  Blinking against the blinding light, Wallace saw the outline of Nelson and Apollo as they rose through the air. Apollo looked around, tongue hanging out. It almost looked as if he were grinning.

  And then they both crossed through the doorway.

  Before the door closed, Wallace heard Nelson’s voice one last time as Apollo barked happily.

  He said, “I’m home.”

  The door slammed shut.

  The light faded.

  Nelson and Apollo were gone.

  Silence settled like a blanket over the fourth floor of the tea shop.

  “What do you think he saw?” Mei finally asked as she wiped her eyes.

  Hugo stared up at the door. Though his face was wet, he smiled. “I don’t know. And isn’t that the point? We don’t know until it’s our time. Can you give me a moment? I want … I’ll be down shortly.”

  Wallace touched the back of his hand before following Mei down the stairs. He thought he heard Hugo speaking quietly, almost like a prayer.