Chapter 19: His Name in the Caption

The agent showed us four houses on Monday, and I chose the third one before she finished the tour.

It was a plain two-story place on a quiet street, with a porch that needed paint and a crooked back gate.

Behind the gate stood a leaning barn with a concrete floor and a window facing east.

"The barn needs a roof," the agent said.

"I'll do the roof," I said.

"The kitchen needs everything."

"I'll do the kitchen."

Margot stood in the empty front room with her hands in her coat pockets.

She had said almost nothing all morning, as she'd promised.

"Nolan," she said now. "Is it this one?"

"It's this one."

"How do you know?"

"I stood in the barn and thought about a bench under that window."

She smiled slowly.

"Then I'll write the check," she said.

"No."

She turned.

"We buy it together," I said. "Half. I sold the shop, I have the money. It's not much. It's mine."

"I have more than I'll ever spend."

"I know. That's not why."

I had not argued with her about money in six years.

I had not argued with her about anything.

She looked at me, and I watched her decide.

"Half," she said. "I'll sign wherever you tell me."

The agent let out a small, surprised laugh and took out a pen.

"That's the second time you've said no to me," Margot told me, signing.

"Third. The suitcases, the apology, and now this."

"I thought the suitcases were a joke."

"They were, a little," I said. "Mostly they weren't."

She kept her eyes on the paper, and I saw the corner of her mouth go up.

By five o'clock the offer was in.

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