Page 115 of Rhodes

I go back to the foyer, open the door loud enough to be heard, and hang the keys on the hook.

"Hey."

She comes out a minute later, phone in her hand, hair down. "Where'd you go this morning?"

"Reeves's. I couldn't sleep, and I didn't want to wake you, so I had pancakes with Benjy. Then I went to the gym to work them off."

"You disappear like a cat," she says. Even though her voice is soft, it cuts more deeply than she realizes. She leans in the kitchen doorway. "I made a list."

"Yeah? What kind of list?”

“More like a game plan. I’m going to read the actual review instead of letting Dad summarize it at me." She rubs her eye. "I might be able to figure out who filed it."

Don't.

"Good," I say. "That's smart."

She crosses and puts her ear on my chest for a quick second, then steps back like she didn't.

The smell of her hair lingers, and both my hands come up out of habit before I put them back down. Wanting her while I'm lying to her is its own kind of sick, and it doesn't slow me down one bit.

"Thanks for not making it into a thing last night, for just believing me."

"I will always believe in you." That, at least, is not a lie.

She heats up leftovers. We eat standing at the counter. She talks through Monday and every name on her list. I nod and don't add one damn thing.

She falls asleep against me on the couch while we watch Yellowstone, then stumbles to my bed and is gone the second she's down with one hand curled under her chin.

I don't sleep. I stay hard in the dark a long time. The guilt clearly hasn’t put a damper on that. All I can think about and hope for is getting this weekend over with so I can fix this.

If I can't, then I tell her.

It's nine on the dot, and I'm in the back row of the Loyola lot with the engine off and my books on the passenger seat, where I put them so I'd have a reason to be here instead of home.

The consultant picks up on the second ring.

"Mr. Stone. Good to hear from you." He sounds glad, the way a man sounds about a client who pays on time. "I was just thinking about that Stono parcel last week. How's the family?"

"Fine. Thank you. Listen, I'm calling about the inquiry, actually."

"Sure, sure."

"I need it withdrawn."

He pauses.

"Well, here's the thing. There's nothing on our end to pull back. We sent a technical letter that raised a fair question about where the wetland line got drawn. That's all it was, a question. But once that landed at the Charleston District, the Corps opened their own review of it. It's their file now."

I watch a kid cross the lot with a coffee.

"So call the Corps," I say. "Tell them the question's answered."

"That's not really how it works once they're in." He's still being kind about it. He thinks he's teaching me something useful. "You can't un-ask it. What has to happen now is somebody answers it. Proper delineation by a credentialed person, then a formal determination request filed with the district."

"Fine. Have your people file it."

"Can't be us." He says it like good news, like he's saving me a step. "Can't be Stone Intermodal, either, or anyone acting for the family. A determination request has to come from whoever holds title to the ground. Whoever's name is on the deed. That's the only person the Corps will take it from."