His crew was demoing a library built in the 1920s, full of gorgeous details that Ford was devastated about destroying. He’d called and left three messages for Mason “Just Pretending to Care” Bligh, telling him about all the great stuff there, but the guy hadn’t called back once. No surprise, Ford figured. People who lived in those fancy spaceship buildings were selfish liars.Oh, good. At least you’re keeping this all in appropriate perspective, Sadie said.As he worked, crashing his hammer through a stained-glass window, smashing a water fountain shaped like a shell, he was haunted by his mother’s voice saying, “We need to talk.”Ford disagreed. In fact, Sadie heard him thinking, he was sure that he didn’t need another lecture about how unlike his brother he was, how much he’d let her down, how disappointed she was…“Storm coming. Unsafe conditions. All work to cease,” the foreman’s voice rang out from two rooms away. At nearly the same moment a silver thread of lightning split the sky, followed four seconds later by thunder that shook the twelve-foot ladder Ford was standing on top of, but he made no move to get down.He was up there struggling to pry a hand-carved wooden medallion of an owl from the doorframe he was supposed to be smashing.
