They're harder to find. Lucas was quiet again. This isn't because of the other night. It's partly because of the other night, she said. The rest is because I did some checking.
Your employer has nothing but good things to say. You're reliable. You don't overstate your abilities and you fix things correctly the first time. A pause. Those are not small qualities.
I don't want to owe anyone anything. Lucas said you won't. She said this is a transaction. You show up, you do the work, I pay you fairly. That's it.
He heard the precision in it. The deliberate removal of sentiment. The way she had structured the offer to leave no room for the imbalance the charity creates. He recognized the intention in that. He respected it.
"Can I think about it?" He asked. "Of course," she said. "Take a few days." He took one.
That evening, he told Luna over dinner carefully without embellishment, trying to explain something to a six-year-old that required more vocabulary than she had, but less than he needed. She listened with that characteristic focused attention of hers. When he finished, she was quiet for a moment. "Do you want to do it?" She asked.
"I'm not sure," he said honestly. "She thought about it." "I liked her," she said finally. "She was sad, I think. But she didn't want anyone to know."
Lucas looked at his daughter. "I think," Luna added. With the considered gravity of a child working through something real, she might need someone to be nice to her. Not because she's the boss, just because. Lucas sat with that for a long moment.
Then he cleared the dishes and thought about it for the rest of the evening. The next morning, he called Evelyn back. I'll take it, he said. All right, she said. Monday, 7:30.