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have to promise to tell Poole what a nice guy I am.”
    He waited for the inevitable retort, and felt himself frowning when she simply said, “I promise. Let’s get out of here.”
    Once she’d checked all of the doors, she headed toward her car, her steps slower than they had been before, her shoulders drooping, and the sight of her so muted and beaten down that his chest ached with sympathy.
    “Verna,” he called, and she stopped and turned. “You’re practically out on your feet. I don’t think you should be driving.”
    “Joe, I’m fine.”
    “Verna…”
    “Okay. If you insist.”
    “I insist,” he said.
    She changed course and walked toward his truck.
    “This is so not fair,” she said as she got inside.
    “What?” he asked as he cranked the truck and then drove off.
    “I’m getting to ride in this thing, and I don’t have the energy to talk about how it’s an…” She trailed off, her mouth seeming to fail her for the first time he could recall.
    He laughed. “How does this sound? You don’t have the energy to talk about how my truck is an embodiment of my masculine insecurity and how I use it to deflect from my tiny penis.”
    She brightened and for a moment felt like the Verna he was familiar with. “Exactly,” she said with a brisk nod.
    “Ha. Well, lucky me.” He glanced at her and smiled. “And besides, we both know neither of those things is true,” he said.
    “I know nothing about your penis, Joey.”
    “I guess you’ll have to take my word for it,” he said.
    She laughed but then went quiet, resting her head on the headrest with her eyes closed. They popped open immediately when he pulled into the driveway, but she appeared a little disoriented.
    “Home sweet home,” he said.
    “Seriously. Thanks again, Joe.”
    “Night. Get some rest, Verna.”
    “Night,” she responded as she walked over to her house and entered the front door.
    Once she’d closed it, Joe went inside his own home feeling conflicted. He was halfway convinced that Verna viewed driving him insane as a part-time job, so he couldn’t quite decide why he’d gone out of his way to help her, or why he’d been so disappointed that she’d been so quiet, what he would have considered nice if he hadn’t known how tired she was. Or why he’d reacted, briefly, but so strongly, to the sight of her bathed in light and standing on tiptoe.
    A few minutes later, he peeked out of his window and saw that Verna had her guest room light on. He knew exactly what she was doing and reached for his phone, dialing her number, which he couldn’t recall how he’d gotten. She answered on the second ring.
    “You’re going to put your eye out if you try to sew right now,” he said before she could speak. “Go to bed, Verna!”
    “Sir, yes, sir,” she said sleepily.
    He hung up and about thirty seconds later, the light snapped off.
    As he fell asleep, it occurred to him that mopping floors with a nearly silent Verna was the most fun he’d had in as long as he could remember.

Chapter Four
    “Verna!” her father yelled the next morning, clearly upset about something. She didn’t have the energy to try and guess what, though she was sure he wasn’t planning to wish her a happy birthday.
    After counting to ten and then counting to ten again, she turned and went toward the sound of his voice. What she really wanted to do was go home and sleep and then sew; in fact, she’d considered calling in this morning but had decided to come in. She usually took her birthday off, but the restaurant was shorthanded today, so marching through a shift half-asleep was preferable to trying to explain to her dad why she couldn’t be bothered to show up, as he’d no doubt see it.
    “Hey, Daddy,” she said with a cheerfulness she didn’t feel. She usually tried to enjoy her birthday, but the sheer exhaustion had sapped her to the point that she couldn’t even perk up for her special day.
    “Don’t ‘hey, Daddy’ me, girl,” he