and all the exits lead onto this one road. If I see her making a break for it, I’m not sure what I plan to do. Follow her, I guess. Make certain she’s headed to a bank, rather than the nearest highway out of town.
Maybe she believed my threats and the letter from Vince, but in spite of the knock-down fight in her office, it feels like she gave up too easily. Part of me says she must have something up her sleeve. Part of me says she has a cushy deal here at Merritt Cars and she doesn’t want to blow it by having me march in there and make it known to everyone what a shyster she is. She clearly wants to take care of this quietly.
That’s to my advantage.
But Gina doesn’t like to lose, especially to me. Aside from that, I wonder where in the world she will come up with the money. Maybe she really will sell her Jeep.
The hours have been endless. I’ve read two books and talked on the phone with everyone I can think of, just to pass the time.
Fifteen more minutes go by. The five o’clock deadline looms close. What is my sister doing over there? Worrying away the minutes like I am, or loading up on ammo and excuses, so she’ll be ready when I come back?
A sweat breaks over me, travels from head to toe, a kind of walking dread.
That’s it, I text Paul. I’ve promised to let him know when I leave the coffee shop. I’m going over. I reason that it’ll take me at least ten minutes to pay my bill, get in my car, and find a break in the rush-hour traffic.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t. There’s no one in line at the checkout counter and traffic parts miraculously, like the Red Sea. I’m in front of the dealership six minutes early.
When I step inside, it feels like the receptionist and everyone else are watching me. Is that my imagination?
I cross the showroom, turn the corner, and Gina is standing in her office with her chin held high and her teeth clenched. Behind her, her backup is none other than Merritt Walker. He’s an imposing figure, at least six foot four, 280 pounds, and in middle-aged good shape. He eyes me with his arms crossed, a stern frown on his face. I can only imagine what my sister has told him about me. Gina has an amazing way of convincing people she’s the victim.
It doesn’t really matter what Merritt Walker thinks, and Gina doesn’t introduce us, of course. She merely snaps the check off her desk and extends it my way. “Here. Maybe this will help you get by awhile.”
I take it from her hand, notice it’s written straight from the car dealership. Merritt Walker’s signature is on the bottom. That’s a relief. At least I know it won’t bounce.
“You mean it’ll take care of the taxes that weren’t paid on the land. And the rest of the money due.” An angry, wounded part of me yearns to say more, to spit out the truth in a great gush that would undoubtedly knock her boyfriend right out of his fancy Italian-leather loafers.
“Whatever you want to do with it,” Gina says sweetly, but the tight-lipped smirk Merritt can’t see is far from sweet. Don’t say anything more, it warns.
There’s no point, anyway.
I tuck the check into my purse. “Okay, well . . .” I’m a little stuck for a graceful closing line. Certainly not thank you or I’ll see you later.
None of the things that should be said between sisters in parting.
The familiar regret tugs, like the pain of an old scar that won’t let the skin stretch. Pap-pap and Meemaw would’ve hated the idea of our fighting over the land.
“Good-bye, then.” I don’t look at her. I really can’t. She’ll see that she still has a hold on me.
“Yeah, see ya. Take care of yourself.” She continues the performance for Merritt’s benefit, making me sound like the one with the screwed-up life.
“I wish you would’ve just told me about the land and paid the taxes, and it wouldn’t have come to this.” I can’t help it. The sentence slips out. My voice cracks at the end.
“I really did think it would be
Maybe she believed my threats and the letter from Vince, but in spite of the knock-down fight in her office, it feels like she gave up too easily. Part of me says she must have something up her sleeve. Part of me says she has a cushy deal here at Merritt Cars and she doesn’t want to blow it by having me march in there and make it known to everyone what a shyster she is. She clearly wants to take care of this quietly.
That’s to my advantage.
But Gina doesn’t like to lose, especially to me. Aside from that, I wonder where in the world she will come up with the money. Maybe she really will sell her Jeep.
The hours have been endless. I’ve read two books and talked on the phone with everyone I can think of, just to pass the time.
Fifteen more minutes go by. The five o’clock deadline looms close. What is my sister doing over there? Worrying away the minutes like I am, or loading up on ammo and excuses, so she’ll be ready when I come back?
A sweat breaks over me, travels from head to toe, a kind of walking dread.
That’s it, I text Paul. I’ve promised to let him know when I leave the coffee shop. I’m going over. I reason that it’ll take me at least ten minutes to pay my bill, get in my car, and find a break in the rush-hour traffic.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t. There’s no one in line at the checkout counter and traffic parts miraculously, like the Red Sea. I’m in front of the dealership six minutes early.
When I step inside, it feels like the receptionist and everyone else are watching me. Is that my imagination?
I cross the showroom, turn the corner, and Gina is standing in her office with her chin held high and her teeth clenched. Behind her, her backup is none other than Merritt Walker. He’s an imposing figure, at least six foot four, 280 pounds, and in middle-aged good shape. He eyes me with his arms crossed, a stern frown on his face. I can only imagine what my sister has told him about me. Gina has an amazing way of convincing people she’s the victim.
It doesn’t really matter what Merritt Walker thinks, and Gina doesn’t introduce us, of course. She merely snaps the check off her desk and extends it my way. “Here. Maybe this will help you get by awhile.”
I take it from her hand, notice it’s written straight from the car dealership. Merritt Walker’s signature is on the bottom. That’s a relief. At least I know it won’t bounce.
“You mean it’ll take care of the taxes that weren’t paid on the land. And the rest of the money due.” An angry, wounded part of me yearns to say more, to spit out the truth in a great gush that would undoubtedly knock her boyfriend right out of his fancy Italian-leather loafers.
“Whatever you want to do with it,” Gina says sweetly, but the tight-lipped smirk Merritt can’t see is far from sweet. Don’t say anything more, it warns.
There’s no point, anyway.
I tuck the check into my purse. “Okay, well . . .” I’m a little stuck for a graceful closing line. Certainly not thank you or I’ll see you later.
None of the things that should be said between sisters in parting.
The familiar regret tugs, like the pain of an old scar that won’t let the skin stretch. Pap-pap and Meemaw would’ve hated the idea of our fighting over the land.
“Good-bye, then.” I don’t look at her. I really can’t. She’ll see that she still has a hold on me.
“Yeah, see ya. Take care of yourself.” She continues the performance for Merritt’s benefit, making me sound like the one with the screwed-up life.
“I wish you would’ve just told me about the land and paid the taxes, and it wouldn’t have come to this.” I can’t help it. The sentence slips out. My voice cracks at the end.
“I really did think it would be
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