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extra work to Bruno and Rich. Their team had a new hire, too, so they were able to handle larger jobs. Stan, the other newbie, and Arie had gone through the all-too-brief twelve-hour training together. They hadn’t bonded.
    Stan closely resembled an ambulatory cadaver, and his sense of humor was about as animated. His former job, carpet installation, had in no way trained him for biohazard cleanup, unless you counted a certain facility with utility knives as a benefit. He’d been laid off at the start of the housing crisis, and with a wife and kids to support, he was apparently willing to do anything.
    Bruno and Rich, on the other hand, had both been with Guts since the start of the company. Bruno looked and acted exactly as one would expect a Bruno to act. From the blocky, muscleman body to the thatch of black hair covering his entire body, he looked like Popeye’s rival. It took enormous effort for Arie to refrain from calling him Bluto. His partner, Rich, was blond with wavy surfer hair and a runner’s physique, and had gone to school with Guts. A distinctly unfair advantage—one of the few things Grady and Arie agreed on.
    Worse? Arie‘s landlord had finally tracked her down and hand-delivered her very own, first ever eviction notice. She’d never been so ashamed. By now, she was nearly four months behind, and even though she could drag the eviction out, she didn’t want to accrue that kind of debt. Chandra had offered to let Arie crash at her place, but she lived in a studio apartment. That kind of arrangement would only work temporarily, and Arie wasn’t quite that desperate. Yet. She kept telling herself she had options.
    Well, one option. And one obstacle.
    Arie’s mother had perfected the art of saying the proper things while broadcasting her true feelings through weary sighs, a regal uplift of an exasperated eyebrow, or a slight shaking of her perfectly coiffed head. She even had a way of blinking that signaled her despair of ever understanding her daughter.
    “Four months?” Evelyn said after Arie finished fessing up.
    “Three, actually. Not counting this month’s rent.”
    She got the eyebrow.
    “I guess that is four,” Arie relented. “There isn’t a lot of stuff to move—”
    Evelyn gasped. “Edward, you’ll never guess what I’ve just thought of.”
    Her dad’s typically placid features crinkled into slight worry. “What would that be, Ev?”
    “It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. You know how we’ve been fretting over what to do with Grandpa Wilston? Well, here is our answer.”
    Evelyn beamed and clasped her hands under her chin. She loved it when her plans came together, especially before she’d even made them.
    Arie’s father shrugged, and he gave her an “I’m sorry” look that terrified her even more than her mother’s creamy expression of satisfaction.
    “What?” Arie asked. “What’s perfect?”
    “We can have her set up in no time, Edward. We can probably even borrow Norm Kenwick’s pickup truck and save money on a moving van. It’s not like she has much, anyway.” Turning to her daughter, Evelyn said, “Can you be ready by Saturday? That’s if we get the truck, of course. I can’t imagine Norm not loaning it to us, but I guess we’d better be sure. Edward, let’s give him a jingle right now, and—”
    “Mom. Stop. What are you planning? I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
    “Grandpa Wilston, of course.”
    “Grumpa?”
    Evelyn’s face emptied as if a plug had been pulled.
    I should be so lucky . . .
    “Don’t call him that. Grandpa Wilston has been a bit of a concern lately.” Evelyn closed her eyes as if suddenly weary. Maybe she needed a nap? “Do you know, just the other day, he gave his social security number to a telemarketer? A scam artist, really. And then—”
    “But what does this have to do with me?”
    “If you’ll just be patient, I’ll tell you. Your father and I have been worried sick. I went over last week and