“Scott,” the man said quickly, still unsure of what was happening but playing along.
“…Scott,” Elizabeth echoed, trying to sound confident.
Elizabeth watched her father walk away, finally letting out a long breath. She turned to Scott, feeling the weight of what she’d just done.
“Please tell me you’re not homeless,” she said, her voice almost a plea.
Scott raised an eyebrow. “No, I’m not homeless. I’m a gardener. But what was all that about?”
Elizabeth sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Thank God. It’s a long story.” She looked around, suddenly wanting to sit and process. “Is there somewhere we can sit?”
Scott nodded. “There’s a bar down the road.”
“Perfect,” Elizabeth said, kicking off her heels to walk more comfortably.
They walked in silence, reaching the bar a few minutes later. Inside, they found a quiet table in the corner and sat down.
Scott leaned forward, clearly still confused. “Alright, care to explain now?”
Scott chuckled. “Does your father know this isn’t the Middle Ages?”
For the first time that evening, Elizabeth smiled. “I don’t think anyone’s told him. But with that money, I can finally do what I’ve always wanted.”
Scott raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”
Continue reading…