Slowly. Between the roses.
She stopped at the bottom of the porch steps.
She looked at me for a long time.
“Margaret,” she said. “Where did you get the money?”
I looked at her.
I thought about the hallway. The towels.
She lives here for free.
“I won the Powerball,” I said.
Renee stared at me.
“In July,” I said. “At the Circle K on Shea. One ticket. Quick pick. Eighty-nine million dollars.”
Nobody said anything.
The ceiling fan wobbled overhead.
Somewhere in the orange grove, Caleb was yelling about a lizard.
“July,” Daniel said.
“July.”
“You’ve had—since July?”
“Since July.”
“You were living in our casita,” Daniel said. “You were making our dinners. You were driving the kids to soccer. You were folding our laundry.”
His voice was rising.
“With eighty-nine million dollars in the bank?”
“Forty-one,” I said. “After taxes. The lump sum.”
“Why?” Daniel said. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
