Three Baby Cribs and a Missing Set of Car Keys
The living room smelled of fresh paint and old wood, a mixture that felt more like my childhood than the suburban house ever had. On the dining table, the thick blue folder lay open, the pages held down by a heavy glass paperweight Shaun had found in the basement.
Ryan followed me in, his steps cautious as if he expected Shaun to jump out from behind the door. He looked at the three cribs lined up against the far wall of the adjoining room, visible through the wide archway.
“You actually moved all of this yourself?” he asked.
“Shaun and my mother helped,” I said.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the glossy brochure for the luxury beach house rental, laying it flat on the table next to the blue folder. The bright blue water of the pool on the cover looked impossibly far away from Oak Creek.
“Three thousand dollars,” I said, my voice completely flat. “The deposit was paid six weeks ago, Ryan.”
He looked at the brochure, then quickly looked away, his eyes scanning the peeling wallpaper in the corner of the room. “The guy from work said we could split it.”
