“What’s that?”
“Like all the young people now. Are you always on your phone?”
“No, I actually didn’t grow up with one. Thirty-five is ancient to young people, believe it or not. I mean, I do have a phone. Everyone does, I think, but I’m hardly on it. I save the research and my groups and buying for my laptop.”
“Good. So you feel like you’re somewhat sensible?”
“I—I suppose so. Maybe? I certainly hope so. I guess I turned out okay. I help my parents out with the company, and I have a business degree, but my sisters are much more sensible, and they’re also much smarter. One’s an architect, and one’s an engineer.”
“You feel like they’re smarter, you said? Truly?”
“Yes.”
“Good! It’s good for a man to be able to admit that a woman is always smarter and always right. That will take you far in life.”
“Yes, sir, I believe that’s what most people say.”
“So, why aren’t you married yourself?”
“How do you know I’m not?’
Silas grins wryly and points at my hand. Right, no wedding ring. Although, some people don’t wear one. “I guess I just haven’t found the right person.”
“Because most people are gold diggers, am I right?”
“I don’t know. Not in my experience, actually. I just really haven’t met someone I could see myself spending a lot of time with—someone who would tolerate the fact that her husband invents and manufactures toys and likes to collect them. Guys with a passion for toys are considered either creepy or nerdy, which is not very attractive, I guess. I swear I don’t have a candy van parked outside. Really.”
“Of course. I saw you pull up in that car. Not a van at all.”
“I promise I don’t have one at home either.”
“Just checking. Because if you had a girlfriend or significant other, it would make it hard for you to move in somewhere else. You’d have to do the long-distance thing or bring her with you, but then I think the house would get crowded. Three’s a crowd and all that. You get along with people easily?”
“Easily enough, I guess.”
“Good. Good.”
“Look, Silas…I really don’t know if I’m the right one to just move in with your great-granddaughter. I mean, you don’t even know me. Why not ask someone you know and trust? I could be anyone. An ax murderer, a pervert—”
“You said you don’t own a candy van.”
“Well, I don’t! But I…I could still be anyone.”
“But you aren’t.”
“No. I guess not,” I capitulate.
“You look after your parent’s company, and you seem like a good guy. I also did my research. I paid someone to look on the old interweb when I found out about you after you sent your letter enquiring about my car, asking if I might be willing to sell it. I already had all this planned when I wrote back to you, asking you to come down here to meet me.”
“Really?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t let a plain old ax murderer or pervert move in with someone I love! I had to do my due diligence, which involved a background check. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No. No, that makes sense.”
“Anyway, I knew you were single, or I wouldn’t have asked you either. I’m not asking you to marry my Esme or fake romantic feelings. I just want you to be a good roommate and a good friend, and being that she’s a woman, I figured if you had a girlfriend or fiancé or wife, that would seriously be inconvenient for them. It would create bad feelings, jealousy, all of that, which is not what I want. I don’t want to put negativity into the world. I’m just trying to do something good here.”
“Yes, I see.”
“Anyway, here’s the deal. Take it or leave it. You move in with Esme, get to know her, and become her friend. Really, I just want her to have as many friends as possible. I know you’re rich and straight-up loaded, but I don’t want any payment for the car. I want you to create an account with money in it for Esme to go to college with or for unexpected expenses if she should need it. Look out for her, be an anonymous benefactor, and be a good friend to her, even at a distance after the six months is over. I think six months is enough time to get to know and trust a person. She doesn’t need to know about any of it. In fact, I’d prefer she didn’t. She’d see it as scheming, and she wouldn’t like it. So, six months in the house as her roommate. I keep threatening to get her one. She doesn’t know the state of my finances, and I’ll make some bullshit excuse about needing the cash. She knows there’s money in place for the house, should it ever need repairs or whatnot, and she knows it’s fully paid off, but I’ll assure her I don’t want to touch any of that. I’ll say something about needing something else. I’ll figure that bit out—anyway, six months. Also, you look out for her after I’m gone, and you can have the car, free and clear. Do we have a deal?”