Chapter 5: Half a Million

Fergus set Ciara on her feet.

"Upstairs," he said. "Teeth."

"But that lady looks mean."

"That's why. Go."

Ciara went, slowly, staring at Veronica the whole way to the kitchen door.

Veronica walked down the aisle between the booths.

Her cane tapped on the checkered floor, though she didn't lean on it once.

It was Sunday night, and the diner was half full.

Two cops at the counter. Three nurses in scrubs splitting pie. A table of men from the produce market with dirt on their boots.

All of them watched her come.

She stopped at my booth.

"May I?"

"You're going to anyway."

She sat across from me and set her handbag on the seat beside her.

"Coffee?" Fergus said behind her. "It's free for first-timers."

"Black."

He poured it and didn't leave.

He stood at the end of the counter with the pot in his hand, ten feet away, wiping a spot that was already clean.

"You didn't come on Friday," Veronica said.

"I told your lawyer I wouldn't."

"It was a courtesy. A private clinic, a discreet doctor. I could have had a court order it."

"Then why didn't you?"

She smiled at me the way she smiled at waiters who brought the wrong wine.

"Because I'm trying to do this kindly, Luna. You never believed I could be kind."

"You called my program director before I'd signed the divorce."

"I did." She didn't even blink. "You don't need a fellowship. You need to rest. You're carrying a Kenley."

The nurses at the next table stopped talking.

Veronica opened her handbag and took out a folded sheet of cream paper.

She laid it on the table between us and smoothed it flat with two fingers.

"Here is what I'm offering."

I didn't touch it.

She read it to me anyway, low and pleasant.

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