Chapter 18: Three Chairs

"Yes," I told Garrett on the porch. "She kept it. I watched her do it."

He nodded, and for once he didn't ask me to explain.

I let him in, because the neighbors were watching, and because I needed him to see my kitchen with Jonas standing in it.

Jonas took his coat and said, "I'll go," and I said, "Stay."

He stayed, leaning against the refrigerator with his arms folded.

Garrett sat at my grandmother's table and watched the clip four times.

He watched his own hand pull the trunk lever.

He watched his mother carry my bag back to her seat.

"I told myself you'd made it up," he said at the end. "The bag. I told myself Dad was confused."

"I know."

"I'm not asking you to forgive me."

"Good."

"I'm asking what you need."

I had thought about that answer since the cafeteria.

"I need Dennis to say it where he can't take it back," I said. "I need your mother to hear it with the whole county listening."

"Dennis Tolliver Day."

"January 16."

Garrett put both hands over his face.

When he took them down, he had decided something.

"I went to the dealership this morning before six," he said. "I put my keys on Dad's desk. The company SUV is in the lot."

"You quit?"

"I'm not working for him anymore."

"Garrett, you have a child."

"I know I have a child. I have an offer from a place in Dayton that sells tractors, and they don't know my last name."

I looked at him for a long time.