Thirty-Nine Million Dollars and a Brown Folder on the Kitchen Table

She just wants you to be safe.”

I waited for him to look at me.

He wouldn’t.

“Why won’t you look at me, Desmond?” I asked.

He flinched, but his eyes stayed glued to his shoes.

“Just accept her concern, Fay.

It’s easier that way.”

Desmond stepped around me and went inside, pulling the heavy front door shut behind him.