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“We’ll figure it out,” I reassure him. “Speaking of which…” I pull open my backpack and take the folder out.

Bastien looks at it. “Oh, the date’s wrong. Let me fix it,” he says, picking up the pen.

I catch his arm before he can scratch out my date. “No.”

He closes his eyes and takes several deep breaths. Then he uncaps the pen and signs his name, and, afterward, writes the same date I did.

He doesn’t disguise his heartbreak doing it.

Chapter thirty-seven

Bastien

“What do you think?” Levi asks me as he drives the truck past a sign that says PINE NEEDLES MOBILE HOME PARK. PINEWOOD ESTATES LLC.

“It’s a…trailer park,” I say as we follow the rental agent into the park. “It’s big.”

“Pamela said on the phone that it was the second-largest in the state.”

“That does not reassure me,” I say.

Levi glances at me. “Baby boy, I know it’s going to be hard. But I grew up with these people. They’re proud and obstinate and most of them are used to people just like you looking down their noses at them.”

“I’m not looking down my nose at them!” I protest.

Levi gives me an amused side-eye.

“Fine. Sorry. I just don’t know how to react. It’s such a fall from grace. And who is this Ghost person? Does he have a real name?”

“I wouldn’t ask too hard. People don’t get names like that without a reason. But he seems to have weighted the scales in your favor, so be nice.”

“How?”

“He’ll talk to you. Apparently, he’s not the kind to talk to strangers. People will see that he talks to you. Word gets out.”

“Jesus Christ, it’s Versailles with lawn chairs,” I grumble. “I’m thirty-one years old. I left Québec with a broken suitcase and told myself, standing in the Toronto airport at twenty-four with my first student visa, very specifically, that I was going to have a big American life. Moving to the second-largest trailer park in Virginia was not on that list of what I would call the big American life.”

“You’ll be fine. And if you aren’t, come to me.” Pamela cuts to the right and he pulls up behind her. I crane my neck to look at the brown metal box to our side and get out into the brisk air. Someone in the area has boiled cabbage. Two rows over to the left, a woman is sitting on her front deck, watching us as she smokes.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” Pamela, the leasing agent, says. She is wearing a lanyard and has the energy of someone auditioning for an antidepressant commercial. “This community is really something. There are actually a lot of young families here. You mentioned that you were in the military. We do have a veterans’ discount. Thank you for your service! Mind that second step,” she says as she walks up the wooden deck to the front door. “We’ll have that replaced before you move in, of course.”

She takes out a set of keys and opens up the door. A wave of stale cigarette smoke hits us. “Of course, we’re going to be non-smoking with our new lessees, but these older tenants—Agnes was here for thirty years.”

I take Levi’s hand and squeeze it in momentary panic.

“The bedrooms are at either end,” she says, letting us in. It’s a single-wide trailer, narrow and long. “The kitchen is relatively new, but we will be replacing the refrigerator. Washer and dryer hookups, dishwasher. Really, all the conveniences you’d expect.”

I look at the walls. They need a good scrubbing just to get the tobacco off. The carpet feels threadbare. I am both appalled at wearing shoes inside a home and afraid to take them off.

“This is the bigger of the two bedrooms, and it’s closer to the bathroom, so I would assume that it’s the one you’ll use as a married couple.”

“I think it’ll do,” Levi says. “But, of course, I will defer to my better half.” He turns to me. “What do you think?”

Pamela turns to me expectantly. “We will rip out the carpet and repaint,” she says, as if sensing my concern. “Normally, we would have done that before we even gave the tour, but Ghost Van Hoek called, and he’s normally a good judge of people.” She looks out the back window. “Oh, look, there he is!”

“Wonderful,” I say.

“You’ll be very happy here. Let me get the paperwork out of my car.” She leaves us alone in the bedroom and Levi opens the back window, which overlooks a graveled pathway that leads deeper into the park. I have the feeling I could walk for ten more blocks in any direction and still not see the edges.