Chloe’s fork paused halfway to her mouth.
I watched Richard like a woman studying a suspect.
“Singapore? On a Sunday?”
“Markets never sleep, kiddo.”
“Cool,” my daughter said. “Neither do plumbers, apparently.”
I nearly choked on my water. Two weeks earlier, Richard had rushed out, claiming a plumber was coming to his house at 9 p.m. Even Mom had blinked at that one.
Richard laughed it off, but there was a stiffness around his eyes that hadn’t been there when he’d first started coming over.
I nearly choked on my water.
The following Sunday, by 7:25 p.m., his leather briefcase was already in his hand. This time, it was the neighbor.
“Mr. Mendez can’t get his blood pressure pills open. Arthritis. I told him I’d swing by.”
“That’s so sweet of you,” Mom said, glowing.
“So sweet,” I echoed, and Chloe kicked me under the table hard enough to bruise.
