“Near Chicago.”
“Why would a brick mason from Chicago be in Ash Hollow?”
“Maybe I lost a bet.”
“You don’t sound like a man who loses many.”
That one hit close enough to truth that I smiled. “Maybe I’m improving.”
She clipped another sheet. “You should still be careful around here.”
“Because of your family?”
Her hands stilled.
She didn’t answer for a moment.
Then, very quietly, she said, “Because they can smell weakness. And they enjoy it.”
I leaned against the fence post. “And you?”
“What about me?”
“Do you enjoy it?”
She gave me a look so startled it bordered on wounded.
“No.”
“Then why stay?”
The question hung there too long.
Finally she turned back to the laundry. “Because leaving is expensive.”
I thought about the bank accounts in my name, about the penthouse, the Gulfstream, the summer house in Maine, the absurdity of wealth so large it became invisible to the person who had it.
Then I looked at the woman standing barefoot in the grass beside a basket of mended sheets.
Leaving, for Patricia, probably meant bus fare, first month’s rent, a car she didn’t have, a job that paid enough to survive, and the emotional violence of believing you had the right to choose yourself.
“Do you have anyone?” I asked.
“No.”
I wanted to say, You do now.
Instead, I said, “That can change fast.”
She looked at me like I’d spoken in another language.
It was nearly dark when I finished the work and went to the porch to collect what Elizabeth owed me.
She was shelling peas in a bowl like she had all the time in the world.
“I’m done,” I said.
She didn’t look up. “I can see that.”
“So payment?”
That got her attention.
Chloe and Madison were nearby, both suddenly interested.
Elizabeth leaned back in her chair. “About that. I don’t have cash on hand.”
I laughed once because the lie was so expected it almost bored me.
“That’s funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
“We had a deal.”
“And now I’m telling you to wait.”
I looked from her to the daughters, then back again. “You don’t strike me as a woman who likes debts hanging around.”
A sly expression slid across her face.
“You’re right,” she said. “Maybe I can offer something better.”
A bad feeling moved through me.
“Patricia!” Elizabeth called.
Patricia appeared in the doorway, drying her hands on a dish towel.
Elizabeth pointed at her like she was identifying old furniture. “Take her.”
The world went quiet.
Patricia went pale. “Mom—”
“For the work,” Elizabeth said to me. “You want payment? Fine. Take her off my hands.”
I kept my face blank, but rage hit so hard I tasted it.
Chloe laughed.
Madison smirked.
Patricia looked at me with naked panic.
In that second, I understood exactly how often this family had made her feel disposable.
I also understood that if I exploded too soon, I would lose my chance to get her out cleanly.
So I did the only thing I could do.
I stepped closer and said, evenly, “If she comes with me, she comes because you’re giving her leave to walk out of this house. You don’t get to call her back tomorrow.”
Elizabeth waved a hand. “Please. Take her forever.”
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