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“Midge?” I tilt my head, looking at her in wonder. “Are you giving me… yourhouse?”
She shrugs a shoulder as if embarrassed. “It hasn’t beenmyhouse in a long time. Not really. Not since you girls moved in and made it feel like a home.”
“Midge… it’s too much.”
“It’s not.”
“But this doesn’t make sense? Where will you go?”
“Oh, is that what you’re worried about?” She clicks her tongue and knuckles my chin. “My dear, I am a very wealthy woman. I still have the villa in Mallorca and the cabin in Whitefish. And my wife owns a modern beast up on Council Crest. That’s where I sleep most nights. She prefers it.”
I frown. Midge ismarried? How did I missthat?
“But, still,” I say, folding the paper and setting it against my lap. “It’s too much. You could just sell it.”
“Why would I do that? Look,” she says, turning her legs to face me. “The truth is, I married a man when I was far too young to know better. I was nineteen, and we dreamed of having an army of kids. When he died, it was sudden, and I wasn’t prepared. I was even less prepared to realize that he’d kept some details of his life from me and was the heir to some sort of shipping fortune. It felt like too much for just me. So I bought the house and thought that maybe someday I’d fill it with children I adopted, keeping him in my heart.
“But next thing I knew, I had filled the house, just not with my own kids. Renters come and go, and they never stayed long. And they rarely interacted with the kooky old lady upstairs. No one ever needed anything from me. And it’s really something to be needed.
“That day, when you found out you were pregnant, I’d just heard from an old friend of my husband’s. It was the first time I’d heard from anyone in that life in ages. And then you were there, and you needed a cup of tea, and… I hope you don’t mind my saying, it was a gift to be there for you.”
“I did need you,” I say, swallowing around a lump in my throat. “More than I realized, more than you know.”
She reaches across and squeezes my hand.
“And I needed you more than I realized, more than you know.”
I smile at her.
“But Midge, this is—”
“What I want. I’m not getting any younger, and it’s becoming more difficult for me to manage the property. You have been growing your business, and I think it will continue to grow. But this could be another arm of your business. Perhaps a little side income.”
I shake my head as she reaches into her pocket and retrieves a set of keys. She unclips a ring of keys and holds them out.
“It’s done, Megan.” Her expression was resolved. “I’ll get the originals to you, of course, but in the meantime you have photocopies, and you have the keys. It’s yours.” She presses the keys into my palm and then squeezes. “Just promise me one thing?”
“Anything,” I say, blinking furiously.
“You must never paint it a different color.”
I laugh out loud, and she leans in to hug me.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” I say, squeezing her.
“Then let me pretend it is.” She pulls back, and her eyes flicker to the road. “Ah, right on time. There’s your ride, dear.”
I look where she’s looking and see a vaguely familiar truck. “Is that… Zeke?” I ask.
But as the truck pulls closer, I realize that while it is Zeke’s truck, it’s not Zeke behind the wheel. The tall, blond man exits and grins as he approaches.
“Freddy? What are you doing here?”
“Picking you up. You ready?” He takes my suitcase and starts for the truck before I can object.
