Free As a Thief in the Night by Chuck Crabbe

deep breath and laid her book face down on the table. "What kind of job? On the docks again?"
    "No, it would be a manager's job." He stopped there, looking for a sign that she might be impressed.
    "A manager's job?   Where?"
    "It's in Windsor, Elsie."
    "Windsor?" she said, shocked. 
    He pursed his lips. "Yeah, Windsor."
    She was confused. "Where did all this come from?  Is this the first you've heard of it?"
    "No. Things have been going pretty well for a while. A couple of months back we all learned that the company was going to set up some sort of operation down there. I went to see Ted about the job and told him I was interested. I didn't want to say anything until I knew."
    "And now they've definitely offered it to you?"
    "Yes."
    "But that would mean moving."
    "It would."
    "To Windsor?" she raised her voice.
    "I've thought a lot about this, Elsie. If you'll just hear me out, I think it makes sense for us."
    "What about the house?  My vines?"
    Gord inhaled deeply as if preparing to lift a heavy object. "I don't want to give up the house either. I don't think we'll ever find another like it, situated the way it is with the chance to improve on it and the chance for you to continue growing. The thing about the Windsor job is that it probably wouldn't be a permanent thing. Three or four years down the road it's likely that a management job will open here. Lou just turned sixty, and Windsor would be a stepping-stone into his spot. We would rent there and keep this place."
    She placed two fingers on her temple and turned her head. "And how would we be able to afford the mortgage here while we pay rent there?" 
    "We could rent out this place."
    "Rent it out?" she came back quickly, as if he had lost his mind. "To whom?  Who do you think we could find to take care of all those grapes? There's ten years of progress and hard work spread out underneath that soil—my hard work, Gord. I can't just let that go."
    He looked at her cautiously. "What if someone moved in who was willing to keep it up the way you wanted?"
    She squinted at him in disbelief. "Who's going to be interested in doing all that work for as little profit?"
    "Olyvia."
    "Olyvia?" she asked, as if she hadn't heard him right.
    "Yeah. As I thought more and more about it, it just makes sense. She and Ted have been together for more than a year now. They're talking about moving in together anyway, and you've got to admit that she's doing better. She's over at his place all the time already. I talked it over with her a few times during the last month or so, and as long as the bathroom's finished she's all for—"
    "Wait a minute," Elsie broke in with a raised voice.  "You've already spoken with her?  Before we discussed it?"
    "I wanted to come to you with a solid plan of how we could make it work."
    She stood up from her chair. "So you went to my sister without asking me and asked if she and her boyfriend, whom we barely know, wanted to move into my house?"
    Gord was a little confused. "I talked to her because I—"
    "You son of a bitch!"
    He clenched his teeth. "So now you're pissed off because I finally did plan something?"
    Elsie stormed past him and out of the kitchen. He followed her.   She had always been able to walk away from arguments with him, detach herself, and go about her business as if nothing had happened, whereas for Gord, if things were not right between them, then nothing was right with the world.
    She closed the bedroom door in his face. Raising his hands, which matched only his ears in size, he held onto the top of the doorframe and rested his head against the six-panel door.   He shut his eyes, exhaled deeply, and then went to sit on the couch by himself.
    Half an hour later he walked into the darkened bedroom. Elsie lay on her side with her back toward him, but he knew she was still awake.  
    "You're right. I should have spoken to you first, and I understand why you're mad that I didn't. I just got excited about the idea, Elsie. You're right