Book Five: Chapter 142

“You don’t have to hide your treasure,” he told the imp. “I’m not going to take it.”

Emery bit his lip in frustration and then looked down at his feet, his wings drooping. “It’s my job to take care of this place,” he explained, “not polish my collection.”

“Does polishing your collection make you happy?” Mike asked.

The imp nodded tentatively.

“Do you do a better job when you’re happy?” Mike asked.

Emery scrunched up his face, as if afraid to answer. When he spoke, his voice was a hopeful squeak. “I think so.”

“From now on, I want you to take some time for yourself. Every single day.” Mike pulled the now full carafe of coffee off the counter. “Polish your collection. Go for a walk, er, fly. Whatever. Consider it an order if that’s what it takes.”

A look of sheer joy bloomed across the imp’s face, and the coin reappeared in his hands.

“This one is a silver dollar from 1901,” Emery declared, then set it on the table between them. Mike not