The Deposit Slip

41





Sallow light from skies full of low-hanging clouds made the morning feel oppressive, Jared thought, watching through the front window. He checked his watch again. She should be here any minute.

A car turned the corner and approached the end of the cul-de-sac.

“She’s here,” Jared called over his shoulder.

“Okay,” Jessie answered from the couch behind him. He heard her stand and retreat through the kitchen toward the back door.

Jared met Rachel at the front porch steps. Her face was rigid and her arms folded across her chest. “Hello,” she said curtly as Jared opened the door.

He waved her through the door. “Sorry you didn’t feel well yesterday. Your laptop and check are in the kitchen.”

She followed Jared through the living room to her computer on the kitchen table, topped with a white envelope.

“The motion papers were fine,” he said, picking up the unsealed envelope and opening it, “but I don’t know what good they’ll do.” He pulled the check from the envelope and scrutinized it. “Looks fine.”

Rachel reached for her computer and the envelope. “Sorry it didn’t work out,” she said.

Jared shrugged. “Litigation’s always risky.”

He followed her to the door; watched as she returned to her car and drove away without looking back. As the car turned the corner and disappeared, Jared heard the back door of the house open and shut.

“Where’d you put it?” he asked.

Jessie was back at his shoulder. “Under the passenger seat. Alongside two pretzels and an empty SoBe bottle.”

“Then let’s hope Mrs. Huddleston was right,” Jared said. “And that Rachel doesn’t clean the car for the next few weeks.”





“You’re sure about that.”

“Yes,” Rachel answered. “He said they don’t know what to do.”

Mick thought Rachel sounded like she hadn’t slept for a long time.

“So I think I’m all done over there,” she went on over the silence.

Mick could hear tendrils of anxiety coming through in Rachel’s voice. Was she lying to him now?

“I guess so,” he responded slowly. “You sure there’s nothing more you want to share with me?”

“No. Neaton said he may not even file a response.”

“Okay. I’ll drop off the final payment,” he said, and could almost hear the relief flow back over the phone line. “But if you hear anything, you’ll let me know. Right?”

“Absolutely.”

The line went dead. Mick smiled to himself. At last, some good news to share with Marcus. It was about time.