Hey, I Daniel, there's a I have a folder. He held up the folder. She looked at the folder. A folder? She repeated.
Blue one, he said like the color was somehow important. She blinked. Then she pressed her lips together in a way that was very clearly fighting back laughter and said, "Give me two minutes." and disappeared back into the house, leaving the door open behind her. Marcus stood on the porch. He looked at the folder.
He looked at the street. He considered getting back in his truck and texting Daniel that he'd left the folder in the mailbox. He didn't. She came back in 4 minutes. Not two wearing jeans and a green pullover, hair still wrapped, feet bare on the hardwood.
She looked completely different and somehow exactly the same. Sorry about that, she said, opening the door wider. Daniel didn't tell you I was home. He said you should be here. He didn't mention.
Marcus gestured vaguely. That I'd be fresh out of the shower at 3:00 in the afternoon on a Saturday. Olivia finished. Yeah, that sounds about right for Daniel's level of detail. She reached for the folder.
Thank you for bringing this. You didn't have to drive all the way out here. Nah, it's no problem. He needed it. He handed it over.
There was a beat. The clean, simple, respectful thing to do was to say, "All right, tell Daniel." I said, "Hey, turn around, walk back down those three steps, get in the truck, and go get something to eat." That's what Marcus started to do. You want some coffee? He stopped. He turned around.
Olivia was standing in the doorway holding the folder against her chest and there was something in her expression that wasn't quite casual or rather it was trying to be casual and not quite landing like she'd said it quickly before she could think better of it. You drove 45 minutes on a Saturday, she said. Least I can do. Marcus thought about his plan. He thought about the delivery shift at 6:00.
He thought about the fact that he hadn't actually talked to another adult, not about anything real since the last time he'd grabbed lunch with Daniel 3 weeks ago. Yeah, he said. Sure. Coffee sounds good. The kitchen was the same kitchen he'd eaten at 100 times as a kid.
Same round table, different chairs. These were newer wood with a little bit of cushion on the seat. Same window above the sink that looked out at the backyard. The light in there at 3:00 in the afternoon was a warm, low-angled kind of light that made everything look a little slower than it actually was. Olivia put the folder on the counter and started the coffee maker with the efficiency of a woman who had done it 10,000 times without thinking about it.
Marcus sat down at the table. "Your parents still got the house?" he asked. "Mom does. She's up in Savannah with my aunt this weekend." Olivia pulled two mugs from the cabinet, both of them plain. White, no logos.