Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“That’s horribly inefficient.”
Anneliese shrugs. “It’s the way I work.”
“Yeah, we’re not doing it that way anymore.” I dip the roller into the stain and get back to work. Idle chat wastes time, and time is money—that is, if I decide to sell this place.
For now, I’m sticking to my original plan, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t run the numbers a few times. Money has never been a motivating factor for me. It comes and it goes. I’ve always had what I needed, not a penny more or less.
“How much do people pay you?” I ask. “To name their kids, I mean. What does something like that run?”
She chuckles. “Why? Are you in the market?”
“Hell no.” The idea of being a dad hasn’t so much as crossed the stratosphere of my mind. Not to mention I wouldn’t know the first thing about being a good one. The only example I had left much to be desired.
“Depends on the scope of the job. Most people want three options, and it’s about a couple hundred dollars—more if there’s extensive research involved like combing their family tree,” she says. “Back in Chicago, clients would drop fifteen hundred bucks without batting an eye.”
“That’s such a weird profession.”
“And what is it you do for a living?”
She flips it back on me, but to be fair, I deserved it.
“A little bit of everything,” I say. “So someone actually paid you real money . . . hundreds of dollars . . . to come up with an everyday name like Benjamin James?”
“They wanted something classic and timeless,” she says. “A name like that will never go out of style, and it fits with their last name. Some people get stressed out over choosing a name for their child. They feel better hiring it out. It’s like hiring someone to decorate your nursery so you can worry about other things or just sit back and enjoy the pregnancy. A name is obviously more personal, but you get the point. To some people a name is just a name. To others, a name is everything. To each their own.”
I shake my head and dip the roller again.
“At the pace you’re going, we’re going to have this whole house done in about three months,” she says, watching me work.
“The sooner the better.”
“You didn’t answer my question, by the way,” she adds.
I look back at her. “Which one?”
“What do you do for a living? You said a little bit of everything. What all does that entail?”
“I’ve lived in the UK for the past ten years,” I say. “I’ve done a lot of construction, a lot of under-the-table jobs.”
“Why under the table?”
“Because I never wanted to stay in one place for too long. Too much to do and see. I was constantly on the go. It’s easier that way.”
“So . . . are you on the run from something?” she asks.
I chuckle until I realize she’s serious. “Not at all.”
“You and Donovan had some kind of falling-out; then you moved to the UK and worked under-the-table jobs for ten years.” She points when she talks, like she’s doing some kind of mental math and piecing together an impossible equation.
“I wasn’t running from anything. I just wanted to get away.”
“Same difference.” She pops a hand on her hip and dips her pointed chin. “What were you trying to get away from?”
My father.
My brother.
This house.
This town.
This life.
The accident that changed everything . . .
“Does it matter?” I answer her question with another question.
“If we’re going to be living together for the next three to six months, then yes. It matters. I need to know if I’m living with a serial killer,” she says in a way that suggests she’s only half-joking.
“I may be a lot of things.” I dip the roller brush again. “But a killer isn’t one of them.”
I feel the weight of her stare on my back, and the heaviness of her thoughts lingers in the silent air between us.
Turning back, I add, “I’m also not a liar.”
Her pouty lips press into a firm line. “Sounds like something a liar would say.”
I roll my eyes. Fair enough. It’s like an untrustworthy person saying, Trust me . . .
“If you’re around me long enough, you’ll see,” I say before returning to my task.
“I was an only child,” she says after a pause. “So I don’t really have any experience in the sibling rivalry department. I had some cousins. They were all older than me. That’s about as close as I ever had to having a brother or sister. I know I couldn’t possibly understand the dynamics of whatever happened between you and Donovan, but please know that my questions are coming from a good place. I’m not trying to pry. I just want to understand why he erased you from existence, that’s all.”