Chapter 9: The Van

The van from the county home had its back doors open and its wheelchair lift down on the driveway in Fox Chapel.

Two aides in blue scrubs stood beside it.

Frank sat on the lift platform in his wheelchair, in his Pirates cap and a coat somebody had buttoned wrong.

Leah stood between the lift and the house with her arms spread.

Barbara stood on the front walk with a clipboard.

Up and down the street, neighbors had come out onto their lawns.

A man two doors down was still holding his leaf blower.

Nate parked the truck behind the van and got out.

"Nate," Leah said, and her voice cracked on it. "She won't stop."

Barbara didn't look at him.

She handed the clipboard to the older aide.

"That's the last page. He takes his pills at eight in the morning and eight at night."

"Barbara," Nate said. "We had a deal. Frank sleeps in his own house."

"We had a deal with your bank," Barbara said. "And your bank already signed."

Now she looked at him.

"Your uncle called me this morning, after the vote. He's very thoughtful."

"He explained it to me. You can't touch that extension now."

"A new chairman who calls in his own in-laws' loan the day he gets the job? The papers would eat you alive."

"So you'd be punishing your wife's family to win an argument about a nursing home."

Nate stood on the driveway and understood that she was right.

He could take out his phone and call the loan committee right now.

One call would end the extension and bring nine million dollars due on Friday.