Laura gave a short laugh. Good. Good. Daniel's face changed. Then he said more quietly.
Then I stayed because it stopped being funny. She looked at him. He meant something else. He was about to explain. Laura did not let him.
Exactly. That's not what I meant. She reached into her purse and pulled out the $20 bill Frank had lost the first night. She held it toward Daniel. Bet settled.
Daniel looked at the money. He did not take it. You did the job. His eyes lifted. I thought we established I wasn't evidence anymore.
Laura's hands stayed between them. I didn't. The words landed. Daniel did not argue. Did not defend himself.
He simply nodded. Okay, that was worse. He walked back toward the main room, collected his coat, said something quietly to Frank, and left. Laura stood in the hallway holding the $20. Frank appeared a minute later.
He did not ask where Daniel had gone. Laura put the money back in her purse. Don't. Frank leaned against the wall. I haven't said anything.
You're going to. Yes. Laura looked away. Frank's hand went to the pocket where Samuel's watch now rested. You keep accusing people of leaving while handing them the door.
You don't understand. Frank's eyes dropped to the watch. I understand better than I'd like. Laura said nothing. Frank did not follow her when she left.
She drove past his house 20 minutes later. The porch light was on. Laura slowed. For one second, she almost turned into the driveway. Then she kept going.
The hotel room was silent in the way unfamiliar rooms always were. Laura sat on the edge of the bed with three things in front of her. Frank's $20 bill. The half-dollar Daniel had returned, her phone. On the screen was a flight leaving Richmond early the next morning.
Her thumb hovered over the booking button. She remembered Daniel on the plane, not to arrive alone. She remembered him changing sides of the folding table without making a speech about it. She remembered staying through dessert, Samuel waiting 30 years for a better time to knock. Her father saying she did everything alone now.
Laura closed the flight page. The truth was irritatingly simple. She was not angry because Daniel pied her. She was angry because he mattered enough that he could disappoint her. Doing everything alone had stopped being independence somewhere along the way.
It had become insurance. Her phone rang. Dad. Laura watched it until the call stopped. Then she stared at the screen.
A minute later, she called him back. Frank answered immediately. You're alive. That was dramatic. I'm 78.
I've earned range. Laura leaned back against the headboard. Neither apologized. After a moment, Frank asked, "Are you coming home?" Laura looked at the $20 bill.
I don't know. Frank was quiet. Then he said, "That's more honest than no." Laura rolled the half dollar between her fingers. What was the bet really for?