Chapter 16: The Second Half

I moved out of my apartment on Wednesday morning with a borrowed truck, four boxes, and a speech.

Roz drove the truck.

She'd gotten a day off from her day job installing speakers at a church.

The church played Southern gospel at a volume the Lord could not have intended.

"You look like you swallowed a bug," she said, backing up to the curb.

"I need to go see Marjorie first."

"Is that the one who bought you a dress?"

"That's the one."

"Then I'll carry boxes slow," Roz said.

The Breckinridge Family Office turned out to be a gray brick house on a tree-lined street in Franklin, with a brass plate by the door.

A woman at the front desk looked up and said, "Mrs. Breckinridge is expecting you."

Marjorie was behind a big oak desk, in glasses I had never seen her wear.

She took them off when she saw my face.

"I've come to give you something," I said.

I put a folded sheet on her blotter.

It was a transfer slip from my bank, with the account number of Breckinridge Radio Group printed at the top.

"What is this?"

"It's the three thousand you sent, and what's left of the first twelve after my back rent and my deposit," I said.

"It's going to your daughter's company, marked as a campaign refund."

"Callie."

"And the second twelve thousand is due on Saturday," I said. "I won't be taking it. If it comes, it goes to the same place."

"Callie, I won't take it back."

"You don't have to. I already sent it, and this is the receipt."

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