Three Suitcases Left in the Rain and Nineteen Million Dollars in Cancun
Sable dropped my suitcases onto the concrete floor with a heavy thud that echoed against the metal garage door.
“You will be much more comfortable out here with the dog,” Sable said, turning to face me with a cold, triumphant expression.
Nathan stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on the floorboards near his feet, his hands still jammed deep into his trouser pockets.
“Nathan,” I said, “look at me.”
He did not raise his head, his chin sinking lower into his collar as if he could hide from the room.
“It is only temporary, Mom,” Nathan muttered, his voice barely audible over the hum of the old refrigerator in the corner.
“We need to get the house ready, Cassandra,” Sable said, stepping back toward the kitchen door. “We cannot have potential buyers seeing you in the main rooms.”
I stood beside the small metal cot, my hand resting on the frayed blue hem of the wool blanket.
“I understand,” I said quietly.
Sable reached for the heavy metal handle of the rolling garage door, her red fingernails catching the dim light of the single overhead bulb.
