Three Suitcases Left in the Rain and Nineteen Million Dollars in Cancun
“I didn’t have a choice, Mom,” he whispered. “She was going to lose her membership at the club, and everyone would have known.”
“So now you want me to give up my home so you can pay for a country club membership?” I asked.
“It is not like that,” he said, but his voice trailed off into the low sax solo.
“We can’t live in the past forever,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “Please, Mom. Just sign it so we can be a family again.”
He reached out as if to touch my arm, but his hand hovered in the air for a second before he let it drop back to his knee.
The jazz record reached the end of the side, the needle clicking repeatedly in the silent groove.
“I cannot sign a lie, Nathan,” I said.
He stood up without looking at me, his shoes squeaking on the polished wood as he walked back toward the hallway.
