It sounded so banal. It had been much better in his head, where it should have stayed.
“Okay,” Jack said. A quick shrug, his back to Morgan. “Whatever.”
Jack’s reaction to the invitation wasn’t what Morgan had thought it’d be. Perhaps Jack thought today was the day Morgan was going to withdraw a thousand dollars and hand it over with the order to vacate.
“I need to ask about getting access to Oralee’s safe-deposit box, and I found a coffee can of quarters that I need to deposit,” he clarified.
That was true, and maybe the fact that he needed Jack to drive him all over the place would put Jack at ease that today wasn’t the day. Jack’s leaving didn’t have to be soon, even if the sun was shining and Plowy McPlowface was going to be out and about.
Not only did Morgan need to look after his own health, he also needed to be honest with Jack. Be clear about his plans, his expectations. Name the day. Buy the plane ticket. Maybe bookhim a hotel room in Santa Monica. Stop being the wishy-washy guy he had been, leaving Jack to dangle on a string.
“Sounds good,” Jack said. He took a golden-brown waffle off the waffle maker and added it to the pile, then prepped the waffle maker for the next pour of batter.
“I’ll set the table,” Morgan said.
“I’ve got it,” Jack said, not turning around.
“No,” Morgan said. “I can do it.”
He did his best, using his left knee a little bit more than usual, carrying things with his left hand if he had to use his cane. He put out the carton of milk for the coffee. Carried over the bear-shaped bottle of honey. Got raspberry jam from the fridge. Sugar bowl from the counter.
Everything was ready, and Jack was just finishing up, so Morgan took his pills and marked that in the notebook, which he put back in the drawer, and by the time he sat down, he felt as though he’d earned his rest. This would work if he just stuck with it.
They ate in silence, and afterward, Morgan insisted on carrying the dirty dishes to the counter by the sink, saving Jack at least that much work. He even wiped down the table and refilled the sugar bowl, feeling domestic and proud of himself, even if it was for such a small task.
Feeling a little awkward as he watched Jack filling the plastic bin in the sink to wash dishes, he said, “I need to make sure I’ve got all the paperwork for the safe-deposit box, and then we can go. Can you drive? In about an hour?”
“Sure.”
That was all Jack said, his back to Morgan, making Morgan feel more like a heel than ever.
He put on a sweatshirt instead of his robe and used his cane as minimally as he could on his way down to the chilly office. He looked at the pot-bellied stove and thought about asking Jackto come and build a fire for him. Before yesterday, Jack would have done it without being asked, so Morgan only had himself to blame if he was cold while he worked.
Instead, he rubbed his hands together and blew on them, then sat at the desk and started going through the folders in the pile, looking for the paperwork he’d collected for the safe-deposit box.
He didn’t know why it seemed so urgent to get into that safe-deposit box. It probably didn’t contain anything important, and the fee wasn’t much, only fifty bucks a year. However, the feed and grain’s new owner wouldn’t want the hassle of getting the box transferred over, so closing it made sense.
He found the key, and the paperwork showing him as the joint account holder with right of survivorship, and the coffee can of quarters.
The metal can was heavy and awkward, but it would have to do because there wasn’t anything else to put the coins in. He set it beside the front door and went upstairs to put on his sneakers, then looked around for his coat. Right. He’d left it in the parlor.
There he found Jack gazing out the window, looking lost—or maybe he was just waiting for the moment Morgan gave him his walking papers. All of this was Morgan’s fault, and he needed to make up his mind. Fish or cut bait.
“Hey,” he said. “Thank you for driving. I’ll make it worth your while.” With a wince, he clamped his mouth shut.
“Sure.” It was a sad echo of the way Jack had said it in the kitchen. “Ready when you are.”
With a sigh, Morgan reached for his coat. Slipped it on. And led the way down the stairs, his cane thumping dully as he went.
CHAPTER 28
morgan
Yellowstone Valley Credit Union was the only bank in town, and it wasn’t very big. When Jack parked the truck, the newly plowed parking lot held almost a dozen cars. Which meant that there were a dozen people in line ahead of them as they went into the small, tidy lobby.
The people weren’t there, Morgan suspected, because the online banking system was down. No, they were there because the sun was shining. For some, it wasn’t enough to chat with the barista at the coffee shop or spend a few extra minutes picking over apples at the market. No. They had to visit every business possible while they could. The credit union was busy because this was the first day in a long while that people could get out of their houses and greet each other, and smile.
As he and Jack stepped inside, the low-key hustle and bustle and genial chatter seemed like a dose of good medicine. It lifted his own spirits, making him smile in spite of himself.
