The next day, Daji and I sort through the stacks of invoices from suppliers and service providers. I shake my head. "We have GOT to up our insurance. Our line item in the budget for insurance is less than magical artifacts. How is that possible?"
Daji sighs. "I told your grandparents that."
"And I did not realize how much insurance we needed!"
Gram's head seems to float above the stacks of paper. She looks apologetic. "The Wendigo isn't exactly like your Ritz-Carlton or, at the other end, a Holiday Inn. It's more like a boutique hotel. We need more insurance. Which means we'll have to contact our insurer. I'll do that. We've done business with them forever."
"Thanks, Gram." I beam.
"Anytime, dear, and by the way, Sandy, Pigsy, and Wukong have returned, but Wendigo Will hasn't, and his band is getting restless."
