Chapter 18: Paper Wife

"Brendan," Lena said from the dark hall.

Her voice was small.

"I heard her. I heard all of it."

Brendan got up off the floor with the letters held against his chest.

He didn't go to her.

"Go home, Lena."

"Brendan."

"Go home."

I had never seen him refuse her anything, in either life.

She looked at him, and then at me, and then she turned and went down the stairs very fast.

Harriet sat on the stool by the dress form with her cane across her knees.

She didn't look at anyone.

I walked past all three of them and out the front door.

Tobin was across Elm Street with the Honda's engine running.

He leaned over and opened the door without a word, and I got in and put my face in my hands.

"Tell me when you're ready," he said.

"Not yet."

"Then I'll drive."

On Friday at noon, Brendan walked into Keogh Hardware.

The bell on the door rang.

Three men stood at the nail bins, and the woman who ran the bakery was buying a hinge.

He wore a good suit and he had shaved.

I was at the register in my canvas apron.

My father was at the back, cutting a length of chain.

My mother was doing the books in the office.

The notice was still taped to the glass behind him, with its Sutcliffe crest.

"Ciara," Brendan said. "A moment."

"I'm working."

"Then I'll say it where you are."

He set a folded paper on the counter.

"I've gone through my own accounts.

"I can pay the entire eighty-one thousand dollars to my grandmother tomorrow.

"The lease would be yours, free and clear."

The bakery woman stopped looking at hinges.

"And what do I do for it?" I said.

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