I’d never told Chase the garage had ever been unlocked.
“What did you just say?”
His face went pale.
“I…”
“You asked if I keep it locked now. How would you know it wasn’t always locked?”
He lowered his eyes.
“I should go.”
“Chase.”
He stopped.
“If you don’t tell me what’s going on, don’t come back.”
For several seconds, he stood completely still.
Then he whispered:
“I’m sorry.”
He shut off the mower, lowered the handle, and pushed it down the driveway.
He didn’t even ask for his pay.
The next Saturday came.
No Chase.
Neither did he return the week after that.
Then, three days later, I spotted him outside a grocery store climbing into a brand-new black SUV.
At first, I thought I had the wrong kid.
The faded baseball cap was gone. So were the patched jeans and worn sneakers. Chase was wearing a designer polo shirt, spotless shoes, and an expensive-looking watch.
