“Yes.”
Marisol began counting on her fingers.
“Ethan needs rent? You know.”
“Ethan needs school money? You know.”
“Ethan needs furniture? You know.”
“Ethan needs—”
“Enough.”
Marisol smiled.
“I’m saying maybe you don’t know today.”
June looked down at the bed.
The sheets were smooth.
No wrinkles.
No evidence of the people who had slept there hours earlier.
That was hotel work.
Make everything look untouched.
June suddenly wondered how much of her family life had been the same.
Smooth the surface.
Remove evidence of conflict.
Reset the room.
Let the next day begin as if nobody had made a mess.
“I found the receipts last night,” June said.
Marisol stopped.
“What receipts?”
June told her.
This time Marisol did not joke.
“Forty-four thousand?”
“Eight hundred.”
“That eight hundred matters.”
June smiled faintly.
Marisol leaned against the cart.
“You lent him sixteen?”
“What remains of the business loan.”
“And the rest you gave?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
June shrugged.
“Because I could.”
“No.”
June looked at her.
Marisol’s face softened.
