Three Suitcases Left in the Rain and Nineteen Million Dollars in Cancun
I watched Martha walk back down the driveway, her shawl fluttering in the autumn wind as she headed toward her own house.
By six o’clock, the light had gone completely, leaving the yard in deep shadow. I was standing in the kitchen when Sable walked in, holding my two brown leather suitcases by their brass handles.
Nathan followed her, carrying my third suitcase, his face pale under the fluorescent kitchen lights.
“What is this, Nathan?” I asked, keeping my voice deliberate and quiet.
Sable did not wait for him to answer. She walked past me without a word, dragging the heavy leather bags down the short hallway that led to the attached garage.
“The main house needs to be staged for the buyers,” Sable said over her shoulder, her heels clicking on the tile floor.
I followed her into the garage. The smell of damp concrete and old motor oil was thick in the cold air, making me pull my collar up.
A small metal cot had been set up in the corner of the garage room, covered by a single wool blanket with a frayed blue hem.
