It was like being back home. I dressed and checked Deacon’s room, but he was already gone. I hadn’t heard him leave the house and wondered if he slept. He had left my room around five that morning. We stayed up counting the money in the suitcase—$38,235. It was more cash than I had seen in one place at one time, and even Deacon, flush as his bank account was with Mrs. Ruth’s largesse, seemed awed by those neat stacks of green arrayed across the bed. On my way down to the kitchen, I looked into Jenny’s bedroom. She was dressed but asleep, napping with her children tucked into the curves of her body. I poured myself a glass of milk, went to get the paper from the end of the driveway. The morning sun felt hot on my face. I sat by the pool and read the paper but there was nothing in it except the usual greed, corruption, rape and murder. After a while I noticed Jenny in the kitchen making breakfast. She waved at me through the window. I decided to phone the guard shack to find out where they towed my car.
