Ending B of 3

The Keeper of the Workshop

The nail gives easily. Inside the crate, folded on top of a bed of straw, is a long gray work coat with the founder's initials on the pocket. Under it lies a leather notebook, its last entry dated forty years ago: Not ready. Not yet. Someone else will have to finish.

The coat fits as if it were tailored for you. When you pick up a screwdriver, your hands already know what to do. The great clock on the wall shudders, and its minute hand moves forward one notch.

The Halloran does not open in the morning. But every night after closing, the clocks are wound, the frames are mended, and the work goes on. The museum has a keeper again, and it is in no hurry.

You took up the founder's unfinished work.