« I’ll be brief, Sadie. » She folded her hands. « I’m offering you $2,000 a month. »
« For what? »
« Your name. »
I stared at her.
« I’ll be brief, Sadie. »
« My son, Jonah, is serving twelve years, » she said. « He needs a wife on paper. Visit twice a month, write letters, and show the court he still has family. Courts like roots. A wife gives him roots. »
« You want me to marry a prisoner? »
« I want you to make a practical decision. »
« Is he dangerous? »
« No. Entitled, careless, and foolish, yes. Dangerous, no. »
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