"A three-bedroom in Oak Hollow," Simone said. "Twenty-two minutes from here. Good elementary school. Smaller lot. Smaller everything. But solid. Inspected. Within the budget your post-program salary can carry even if Marcus takes six more months to land. I showed him eleven places. He chose the one Amara liked because of the orange tree."
"How intimate," Nia said.
Simone did not flinch. "It isn't intimate. It's logistics. He couldn't keep driving Amara to school from a motel if this sale fell through. He needed a landing place that didn't shame him every morning. I have a daughter myself. She's nine. I know what it looks like when a parent is trying to build a soft place to fall while the ground is moving."
Nia stared at her. "You have a key to our garage."
"I have a lockbox code," Simone said. "And yes, after the third weekend of packing, Marcus gave me the garage opener so I could drop off supplies without ringing the bell and waking Amara. If that looks like something else from where you're sitting, I understand. It isn't something else. I'm married. My husband is a nurse at Cedars. You can call him if you want the kind of proof that makes people feel briefly better and then worse."
"Don't," Marcus said quietly. "Don't make this a courtroom."