I went back to the glasshouse the next morning.
Noah had already arrived. He was standing near the repaired west arch, looking up at the ironwork. Professor Wren waited beside the door with the final restoration report in her hands.
The board had approved the work. The contract would end at the close of the day, and the treatment fund would remain in place.
I knew because Professor Wren had told us in her office. She'd also said the Conservatory would review the language of its service agreements. It was not enough to change what had happened to Noah, but it was something.
Noah held the release papers in one hand. The silver ring hung at his throat.
"Everything is done," I said.
"The work is done," he replied.
"That's what I meant."
"I know."
Professor Wren set the report on a nea
