“Your dad would’ve liked him,” I said softly.
“Yeah,” Eddie said. “He would’ve.”
Moren stepped out, phone pressed to her ear.
“Babe, I’m going to take this call real quick,” she said.
“Sure,” Eddie replied, eyes on the grill.
She walked down the stairs to the small patch of grass near the fence that separated the complex from the neighboring lot. She turned her back to us, one hand on her hip, the other holding the phone.
I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. But the wind carried her voice up to the balcony.
“No, he doesn’t suspect anything,” she said. “Just give me time.”
The spatula paused in Eddie’s hand. He didn’t seem to have heard her. The sizzle of burgers on the grill and the hum of highway traffic almost drowned her out.
Almost.
“Once the house sells, everything will fall into place,” she continued. “I just need him to convince her. She’s attached to the place, but he’ll get her there. Trust me.”
My stomach clenched.
I lifted my plastic cup to my lips to hide the way my hand had started to shake.
Moren laughed softly into the phone.
“She won’t see it coming,” she said. “Just be patient.”
Eddie glanced down at her.
“She okay?” he asked me absently.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” I said, forcing my voice to stay even.
A few minutes later, Moren came back up, her expression smooth, phone tucked away.
“Everything good?” Eddie asked.
“Yeah, just work stuff,” she said.
She sat down beside me, her bracelet glinting, that same tight smile on her face.
The rest of the cookout passed in a blur. I couldn’t tell you what we talked about. I couldn’t tell you how the burgers tasted.
All I could hear was her voice.
Once the house sells.
He doesn’t suspect anything.
My house.
My son.
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