“Would you consider extending the loan?”
“Yes.”
Daniel looked up.
I held up my hand.
“Under different terms.”
“What terms?”
“I don’t know yet.”
His face tightened again.
“Then what are we doing?”
“Talking.”
He looked at me as though this were the least satisfying answer imaginable.
Perhaps because for most of his life, I had solved things.
Dinner.
School forms.
Doctor appointments.
Money.
After Arthur died, I solved myself by moving to Arizona.
Now I was asking him to remain inside uncertainty.
It was uncomfortable.
It was also necessary.
I stood.
“I’m going home.”
Daniel looked toward the stairs.
“The kids wanted dessert with you.”
“Then I’ll stay for dessert.”
Rebecca stood too.
“I made pie.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
“From scratch?”
She frowned.
“I am capable of using an oven.”
