My face burned.
Evelyn took a slow sip of tea.
“I saw the blankets in your truck the first day we met.”
I looked toward the window.
For several seconds, shame squeezed my throat so tightly that I could not speak.
Finally, I muttered, “I’m handling it.”
“You’re sleeping in a parking lot.”
“It’s temporary.”
“Winter is coming.”
I hated that she knew. I hated the pity I expected to see in her face.
But there was no pity.
Only concern.
Evelyn folded her hands on the table.
“The upstairs guest room is empty.”
I immediately shook my head.
“No.”
“You can pay rent when you’re working again.”
“I said no.”
Her expression did not change.
“Then consider it temporary employment. There are repairs around this house I’ve been putting off for years. You help me with them, and the room is yours until you get back on your feet.”
I should have been grateful.
Instead, another thought entered my mind.
She was old.
She owned the house outright.
