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“Couldn’t say. Haven’t really kept track.”
Of course you haven’t,Sean thinks.Pompous ass.“How’s your mom? Everything all right?”
“She’s fine. Thanks for asking.” Norman pauses. “We’re actually planning on putting the house up for sale, so if you should hear of anyone who’s looking…”
“I’ll be sure to tell them.”Like I don’t have anything better to do with my time,Sean thinks, then laughs, because he doesn’t.
He waits till the Tesla has disappeared down the main road, then parks his car in the garage, happy to see that Olivia isn’t home yet. He has time for another drink, time to conjure up one of those stupid little vignettes about his job that Olivia loves to hear.
So, he thinks, it looks as if two houses on their small cul-de-sac will soon be on the market. Not that Sean knows for sure that the Wilsons will be moving, but he couldn’t help noticing the real estate agent’s car that was parked in their driveway the other day. He wonders idly whose house will sell first and how much they’ll get.
Maybe he and Olivia should consider selling. That way, at least, he could get his hands on some much-needed cash. He’s pretty sure he could talk Olivia into renting an apartment and investing whatever profit remained after the mortgage is paid off. By that time, surely to God, he’ll have a job.
“Yeah, right,” he says, extricating his phone from his back pocket as he enters the kitchen. He presses in the number he still knows by heart, even though it’s been a while since he used it.
“Fiona Geller,” the woman answers.
“Fiona,” Sean says, grabbing a beer left over from Saturday night’s festivities, and carrying it into the living room, plopping down on the brown corduroy couch. “It’s Sean Grant,” he says when the woman fails to recognize his voice.
“Sean. How are you?”
“Still unemployed,” he tells her.
“I know. And what can I say? I’ve been talking to firms from Orlando to Miami. What can I say?” she says again. “There’s just not much out there right now, especially for a man with your qualifications and experience.”
“Look. Just get me an interview. Anywhere. At this point, I’ll take anything.”
“I know that. But you know what it’s like in the summer, especially in Florida. Nobody does much hiring. They all wait till the fall. I’m certain something will come up in September.”
“That’s what you said last summer,” Sean reminds the headhunter.
“What can I say?” she says yet again. “I know it’s hard, but try to be patient. We’ll find you something. It’s important to stay positive.”
“Right you are,” Sean says, hearing Olivia’s car pull into the garage.
“I promise I’ll call you as soon as I hear of anything. Hang in there.”
“Hanging by a thread,” Sean whispers as the call disconnects.
“Sean?” Olivia calls as she enters the house. “Sean, where are you?”
“In the living room.” He’s returning the phone to his pocket when she reaches the doorway. “How was your day?” he asks, trying to sound interested. Much as it pains him to admit, it hurts that his wife is succeeding in an industry that no longer wants him.
She stares at him, an inscrutable look on her face. “Interesting. How was yours?”
Sean does a quick mental run-through of the stories he’s spent hours dreaming up, the charming anecdotes he’s memorized, the fresh lies hovering on the tip of his tongue.
Except he has no more strength for lies, no stamina for further deceit.
“The truth will out,”he hears his father say.
Slowly, Sean lowers his bottle of beer to the floor and looks his wife straight in the eye. “I need help,” he says.
