Phyllis smirked.
“But it’s not like I have a Christmas nostalgia cash cow to help me get by in Miami,” Alix continued. “It’ll take time to build up savings and be comfortable enough to move and…”
Phyllis shrugged. “I never needed your rent money, so I set it aside.”
“Aside… how?” Alix stepped carefully.
“In a fund,” Phyllis corrected. “A very boring, responsible fund that I started when you moved in.”
“Why would you—Phyll. That’s… your money. I paid that to you for six years.”
Phyllis reached for a small envelope resting beside her crossword and slid it across the table. “You struck me as a bright woman, but you just needed a little help. I figured you might need it back someday. Looks like someday’s knocking.”
Alix stared at it but didn’t touch it. “Is this a metaphor, or are you about to make me cry?”
“Both.”
When she finally opened it, there it was. A check. A big one. Six years’ worth of rent. Her throat went tight. “This is way too much.”
“Use it to start a new life. Or a tattoo of my face on your ass. Dealer’s choice.”
“Why not both?” Alix’s laugh cracked into a sob halfway through. “You can’t just give me this money.”
Phyllis leveled her with a hard look, or as hard of a look as an elderly woman in a flamingo robe could muster. “I can, and I will. I’m not buying your happiness, Alix. I’m making sure you don’t talk yourself out of it.” She said it so simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. And maybe for Phyllis, it was.
Alix wiped her eyes on her sleeve, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I get that a lot.”
They sat there for a while — Phyllis pretending to work on her crossword, Alix pretending not to cry — the quiet full of everything they didn’t have to say.
Finally, Phyllis looked up. “You could still make the red-eye tonight, you know.”
Alix glanced at the clock. 7:42 p.m. She looked down at the check, then back at Phyllis. “You think?”
“I know. Take the big pink suitcase. It’s hideous but lucky. Like me.”
Alix stood, heart pounding. “What would I even tell Grace?”
“Tell her the truth. That you’re done waiting for tomorrow.” Phyllis’s smile was warm and genuine, and seeing it made Alix want to cry again.
Something in Alix cracked open. Fear, hope, maybe both. She rounded the table and hugged Phyllis tight, catching her off guard.
“Okay, okay,” Phyllis muttered, patting her back. “Don’t wrinkle the robe. It’s vintage.”
Alix laughed, watery and real. “You’re the best, you know that?”
“I know.”
Alix couldn’t tamp down the smile on her face as she closed the front door behind her, the porch light flickering once like the old house’s nervous flinch. She adjusted her grip on the ridiculously large pink suitcase, heart hammering in her chest. For years, she’d been waiting for the right time, the right plan, the right version of herself.
It wasn’t the timing that mattered anymore. It was the direction, and Alix was running toward something good.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
GRACE
Valentine’s Daywas the single most idiotic ritual humans had been suckered into performing. Grace had returned from helping one of her least favorite partners pick a jury for a securities fraud trial — an absolute waste of four hours when he ignored all of her advice. The moment she stepped back into the office, she was smacked in the face with the theater of delivered flowers on half the desks.
