“I…,” he paused for a second. “I build houses. Well, not myself. I have a company that does.”
“A big company?”
“Pretty big, yes.”
“Is that why you’re a millionaire?”
“That’s why.”
Her mom returned with the tea. The mugs were old and chipped, but clean. Liz took hers as if she’d been handed some strange artifact. They drank their tea and talked. David told them about his company. It turned out he didn’t just build houses; he built entire residential communities with parks and playgrounds. Vera listened, and her expression gradually softened. Molly saw the tension leave her shoulders, saw her start to smile at David’s jokes.
“Here’s what I propose,” he said finally, after the tea was gone. “I have an apartment, it’s empty. I bought it as an investment and have never even been inside. It’s a two-bedroom in a good neighborhood, near a great school. You should move in. The rent will be a token amount, just a formality.”
“That’s…” Vera started, but he held up a hand.
“Wait. That’s the first thing. Second, my company needs an on-site nurse. It’s an official position, full benefits, good salary. The job is to provide basic medical care for the construction crews. Nothing complicated. Think you can handle it?”
“I’m a nurse, not a doctor.”
“A nurse is exactly what we need. We have a doctor on call, but we don’t have a nurse. What do you say?”
Vera was silent. Molly could see her wrestling with herself, wanting to say yes but held back by her pride.
“Vera,” David said gently, “I know this sounds like a handout. But believe me, I need this, too. Not just you. I need to know that I’ve done something good for people who deserve it. That my money went toward something worthwhile, not just another yacht or watch. You’d be helping me more than I’m helping you.”
He said it in a way that made you want to believe him. Maybe he really meant it. Or maybe he was just good with words—millionaires probably had to be.
“I’ll think about it,” Vera said at last.
“Good. Here’s my card. Call me anytime. And…” he looked at Molly, “thank you again. You’re an amazing person, Molly Thompson.”
They left, leaving behind the scent of expensive perfume and a business card on the table. Vera stared at the card for a long time before putting it in a drawer. That night, she didn’t cry; Molly listened carefully. Three days later, she called David and said yes.
The new apartment was like something from another world. Two bedrooms, a big one and a smaller one, a kitchen with a real stove that worked every time, not just sometimes. A bathroom with hot water whenever you wanted it, not just in the morning and evening. Windows you didn’t have to seal with plastic film. A balcony where you could stand and look out over the city. Molly walked through the apartment, touching everything: the smooth, white walls, the doorknobs that didn’t squeak, the radiator that was so warm you could wear a t-shirt inside.
“Is it really ours?” she asked her mom.
“It’s ours for as long as we live here.”
“And after that?”
“We’ll see.”
Vera tried not to show how happy she was, but Molly could see it in the way she smiled when she thought no one was looking, in the way she stood by the window for long stretches, just looking at the trees in the yard. She liked her new job, too, even though she complained that the commute was long. But she complained in a lighthearted way, just for show.
David would stop by sometimes to see how they were settling in. He brought groceries, though Vera told him not to. He played board games with Molly, which he also brought. He told funny stories about his construction sites, about workers who always mixed things up and architects who designed beautiful but impractical buildings.
“One guy designed a house shaped like a ship. Looked great. But he forgot that a ship has a pointed bow.”
“How could you live in it?”
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