Emrys Morgan is on his way from San Francisco to Los Angeles when the Palisades and Eaton fires break out. By the time his plane lands, the person he was coming to see -- his father, with a Craftsman house in Altadena -- is gone. But Emrys was coming to discuss his imminent relocation to the Craftsman. There’s work to be done, and diving right into it helps him process his grief.
Felix Paulo lives across the street from the Craftsman, and was on hand to help when Rhys Morgan went down. Now he wants to help Emrys. They’d only met once before, but Felix thought there was a vibe. Over the next few days, Felix, his siblings, and Emrys make some big changes in little time. The neighbors grow close so quickly, the vibe must go both ways. Can a giant disaster be the spark for a long-burning flame?
Felix made sure his face mask was snug, glad he never threw out the leftovers from the plague years, before walking across the street.
The car door opened as he approached. Emrys got out. Graying brown hair tousled, dark brows pulled into something like a frown, blue eyes showing signs of recent tears over a mask of his own. “Hi, Felix. Thanks for all your help.”
“I wish I could have done more. How are you holding up?”
Emrys shrugged. “Not bad, I guess. My sister and I talked just now, while I was at the hospital. We have no idea what to do in terms of a funeral. I don’t think my father even wanted one, to be honest.”
“Our father didn’t either. He was like, toss my ashes in the sea and roast a pig.” That made Emrys laugh a little. Felix smiled. “Did you want to go in the house? I could go with you.”
“God, really? That would be great. You don’t have things to do?”
“I have four family members who take up a lot of space and are entirely at loose ends. None of us are trying to work today. One less human being in that house is a good thing right now.”
Another huff of a laugh. Emrys said, “In that case, welcome to Caer Morgan.” They didn’t go in right away, though. Emrys stood and studied the house for a minute, as if taking in its fire-resistant qualities. Maybe considering the shadowy front porch with its tapered columns. Then he looked over his shoulder at Felix’s house, as if comparing the standing-seam metal roof over there to the faux slate metal roof over here. Then he walked over to the driveway, slowly up alongside the house, and into the backyard, where it happened.
There was no trace, of course. Rhys Morgan was still alive when the paramedics loaded him into the ambulance. Felix had actually been there, trying to convince the old man to go inside, when he went down. Once the ambulance left, he and his sister Tori had coiled up the garden hose and made sure all the doors and windows were secure before heading back to their own houses.
All that distinguished the concrete backyard was the house itself, a row of ash-covered rose bushes along the back fence, and the freestanding garage. “I think your father used that as a workshop.”
“Yes, he did,” Emrys said, staring at it. Same kind of roof, no more than sixteen feet by twenty-four, with a small window in the back corner. Stucco again, but the side facing into the yard was mostly covered with a tile mosaic. A colorful fantasia of birds and flowers, much more whimsical than Felix would have predicted from a man as pragmatic as Rhys Morgan seemed to be.
“That’s some mosaic,” he said, hoping Emrys would tell him a story about it. “Do you know where he got the idea? It’s a bit like one I’ve seen in Santa Monica, only more coherent.”
Emrys glanced at him, apparently smiling behind his mask. “We went to Barcelona once. My sister got married there. My parents spent an afternoon sitting in front of La Sagrada Familia and another day on a Gaudí tour. Mom teased him about his obsession for years after that.”
“He was an Art Nouveau guy, huh.”
“Very much so.” Another glance. “I’m expecting to find about a thousand unfinished projects inside the house. Last time I was here, I didn’t go past the office and kitchen. He was really defensive about all his stuff.” Emrys walked up to the back door, dug in his pocket, pulled out a key. Unlocked the security door, then the steel solid-panel door behind it. Pushed it open, but didn’t immediately enter. “I suppose we’re better off inside than out.”
“The air quality is in the red zone,” Felix agreed, hanging back. The first step over the threshold would be the hardest. Emrys eventually took it. Felix followed him in, then closed the doors behind them.
