“Maybe I changed my mind.”
“Maybe Saint Nicholas changed your mind.” Eden grins.
I take another sip of beer, buying time. “It’s not like that.”
“What’s it like?” Eila asks.
I stare into my glass, trying to find words for something I don’t understand myself. “It’s complicated.”
“Most good things are,” Eden says.
“He’s not like I thought.”
“How so?”
“He listens when I talk about my work. He doesn’t act like what I do is cute or quaint.” I set my glass down harder than necessary. “He washed dishes without being asked.”
“The bar is so low for men,” Eila mutters.
“But he cleared it,” Eden adds. “That’s something.”
I want to tell them about the way he looked at my kitchen in awe, about his vulnerability when he talked about his father, about the moment before Chiron interrupted when I thought he might kiss me. Instead, I say, “He’s Reed Saint Nicholas.”
“Meaning what?” Eila asks.
“Meaning he’s rich. Dynasty rich. His family owns half of the development projects in the county, and he thinks he’s some sort of do-gooder saint, bringing the gift of trees to bougie people in condos.” I stand, suddenly restless. “What am I supposed to do with that?”
“Enjoy it?” Eden suggests. “I sell a lot of my honey and beeswax products to those condo dwellers.” My sister shrugs.
“It’s not that simple.” I pace toward the window, looking at the goat pen where Chiron stands sentinel in the darkness. “He holds all the power here.”
“What do you mean?” Eila asks.
“He’s the one who decides whether I’m free and clear of the fifteen thousand dollars in damages.” The words taste bitter. “Technically, he could still sue me if he wanted to.”
My sisters go quiet, and I can practically hear them processing this information.
“But he wouldn’t,” Eden says. “I mean, you’ve been helping him, he obviously likes you?—”
“Obviously?” I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “What’s obvious is I destroyed his work, and I’m in his debt. Who even knows if he’s been telling the truth about his shitty parents. Could be feeding me a line because he saw my soft spots.”
“Eliza, that’s not—” Eila starts.
“Isn’t it?” I turn to face them. “Think about it. I help him fix his trees, I help him make cookies for my family’s party, I make him look good in front of people he wants to impress. And in return, he doesn’t destroy my credit and my business.”
“You’re being paranoid,” Eden says firmly.
“Am I? What do we know about him except that he comes from money? We have a lot of experience with how rich people treat people like us.” I take a gulp of beer, feeling the impact of the strong ale.
Eila shifts. “Ben happened to notice some amendments to Reed’s business filings this week. He was curious about what they might be about.”
My stomach drops. “What kind of amendments?”
“He didn’t know. Just that something had been updated with the city. You know how Ben is about paperwork.”
“See?” I gesture broadly. “Reed’s changing things. Probably covering his ass before he cuts me loose and sicks his lawyer on me.”
“Or maybe he finally figured out the paperwork forms you said he was struggling with,” Eden suggests.
