I didn't treat you the way you deserved the other night. I was polite, but I wasn't. I wasn't genuine. And that bothers me. He hadn't expected that.
Of all the things she might have said, that was the one he hadn't prepared for." "You were fine," he said. "I wasn't." Her voice was steady, but there was something underneath it. The sound of someone saying a true thing they'd been avoiding. I spent most of that dinner waiting for you to show your hand. Waiting to find out what you were actually after.
And And you didn't. A pause. That confused me more than if you had. Marcus looked out the windshield at the quiet street. A dog crossed slowly from one yard to another.
A porch light flickered on somewhere. I helped your father load a truck, he said. That's all that happened. I know that now. Emily said, "I'm just I'm not good at accepting that at face value.
I haven't been for a while. He wanted to ask why." He didn't. "You don't owe me an explanation," he said instead. "No," she agreed. "But I wanted to give you one anyway." Another pause shorter this time.
"My father would like to know if you'd consider taking on a project, not charity. Real work. We have a property outside town, an older farmhouse on the Caldwell land that's been sitting empty for years. He wants it restored. He asked specifically for you.
Marcus thought about his schedule. The Abernathy job. The widow on Red Bud Lane who'd been waiting 3 weeks for him to get to her fence. I'd need to see the property first, he said. Of course.
And I'd need to give you a real number. I don't discount because of He stopped. Because of us, Emily finished. I was going to say because of the situation, Marcus said carefully. She was quiet for a moment.
Then unexpectedly, she said, "Good. My father would be insulted if you did." Something in Marcus' chest moved just slightly. "All right," he said. "Send me the address. I can look at it Saturday morning.