He always became unusually helpful.
That week, he sent me three messages asking whether I needed groceries.
The third one arrived Tuesday morning.
Need anything from Costco?
I stared at it.
Then typed:
No. But I would like to know about your business loan.
The little dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Finally:
Rebecca told you.
Yes.
Can we talk tonight?
Yes.
He arrived at seven carrying nothing.
No flowers.
No groceries.
No attempt to soften the conversation.
That gave me hope.
We sat on the balcony.
The Arizona evening was cool, and below us people moved between restaurants and shops.
Daniel rubbed his hands together.
“I should have told you.”
“Yes.”
“I was going to.”
“When?”
He looked at me.
“I don’t know.”
“Then you weren’t going to.”
He sighed.
“Probably not.”
I appreciated the answer.
“What business?”
He leaned back.
“Consulting.”
“You already consult.”
“For someone else.”
