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Knox sets down his mug, unhurried, like he’s been waiting for the opening. “Wouldn’t take much asking.”
“You’d really do that? You don’t even know me.”
“Marge and my old man vouch for you. That’s enough for me.”
“Okay.” I fold the printout, if only to give my hands something to do. “So, when do we start?”
“Depends on where you’re staying. I’ll need to know where to pick you up.”
“The Pinecrest.”
“The motel?”
“It’s only temporary.” I shrug. “It’s fine.”
“Nothing about that place is fine,” Knox mutters.
“Now hold on.” Marge sets a hand on her hip, mock-offended on someone else’s behalf. “June’s owned that motel for twenty years and kept it clean the whole time. Don’t go running down my friend’s business in front of her new tenant.”
Jon makes a low sound in his throat, not quite a laugh.
“Wasn’t running June down. Just saying a motel’s no place for a girl to be living alone,” Knox says with a shrug.
“If you’re looking for something more long-term,” Jon offers. “We might have a place you’d be interested in.”
Knox goes rigid. “Dad. Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“You know what.”
Jon doesn’t back down, just looks at his son like he’s daring him to voice his objection. “You just said yourself the motel’s no place for a girl to be alone.”
Knox scrubs a hand over his jaw, and for a second I can see him actually weighing it, whatever it is. “It’s too soon,” he says finally, quieter now. “You know it’s too soon.”
“The place belonged to my daughter and her husband,” Jon says, turning to me. “She passed a few months back.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Everybody in this town loved her.” Jon’s voice stays steady. “And somehow half of them have already decided they love you too. I think she’d believe you were the one meant to live there.”
Knox doesn’t say anything to that right away. When I glance at him, there’s nothing easy left on his face. It’s like he’s caught between what his father’s offering and something he’s not ready to let go of.
“That’s a very generous offer,” I say. “But I don’t want to cause any problems. I can stay at the motel a while longer. It’s really okay.”
“It’s not okay,” Knox says, quiet now. Then, like it costs him something to say it, “Pop’s right, Rae would want this.”
“If you’re both sure.” I look between them, still half expecting one of them to take it back. “That would be great. Really.”
“The furniture’s all still there,” Jon says, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders now that Knox has come around. “Unless you’ve got your own stuff you’re wanting to bring in.”
“I came with a suitcase and a cardboard box. That’s it.”
Jon nods like that settles something for him, and slides out of the booth, dropping a few bills on the table.
“How much is the rent?” My father made good on his deadline right on schedule, seventy-two hours almost to the minute. Every account he ever handed me without a second thought went quiet overnight. Now there’s just the one account I opened at a local bank that’s actually mine. I’ve been doing careful math in my head ever since, trying to make sure whatever’s in it can stretch further than it was ever meant to.
“We’ll figure out the number once you’re moved in.”
