"What is?"
Connie shrugs, her brow furrowed. "It's just that she stayed with him all those years, you know? If that were me, and that man died, I'd take his stuff out into the street and have a celebration. Roast marshmallows over the bonfire."
"That is odd," I agree. "I guess you never really know about people, do you?"
I begin to wonder about how Luke is dealing with his mother's death, but I don't get a chance to think about it for more than a second before Connie pushes a flyer across the counter at me. "You get one of those offers on your property?" she asks.
I glance down at the paper advertising a town hall meeting. "I did. Told them I wasn't interested."
"It's $34.92 for the groceries," she says, tapping her finger on the paper. "You should come to this. People in town, they like you. Respect you. June, too."
"Me?" I ask. "I've only lived here a couple of years."
"Yes, but they know your cider. And you're a businesswoman. Educated. They know you told the mining company no, too. You should tell them why."
"I don't know. I said no for personal reasons, not political ones."
"Well, I've heard there's been some shady business with some folks out here," Connie says. "People who've told them no and had problems after that."
"What?" I ask, but someone enters the store, interrupting us, and Connie is off doing something else. I stuff the flyer in my grocery bag and pick up Olivia, who's only partially covered in ice cream, and head outside.
22
Luke
This town is the smallest place in the damn world. I wasn't prepared to run into Autumn and Olivia in the general store yesterday. I wasn't ready to see them. I was getting some space – and some beers – after reading that damn diary. I didn't want them to see me like that, and I did the only thing I knew to do to keep this shit away from them, and that was to walk away.
That damn diary.
Page after page of excruciating detail. I read the whole thing, driven by my need to understand why the hell she did what she did. I’m not even sure my brothers read the entire thing. They paged through what they needed to, and handed it over to me, glad to be rid of it.
I expected it to be filled with depressed ramblings about life or something – except it wasn't. Instead, she confessed to killing my father.
That should have made me feel happy. She finally grew some balls and killed the asshole. Except it just made me angry at her. After all that time, all those years of him beating her to a bloody pulp… Fuck, all those times he beat the shit out of us in front of her, she did nothing.
I'd always thought of her as being weak.
It turns out that she wasn't weak at all. Protecting her kids just wasn't enough incentive for her to get rid of him. But money was.
She wasn't weak; she was greedy.
The journal laid out everything, starting when my father discovered europium in the illegal old mine back behind the house where we grew up. He'd brought a sample to the geology teacher down at the high school where my father worked as a janitor. When the geology teacher found out what it was, he'd gone to a mining company he thought would be interested – and was bought off. And after the mining company started buying properties in West Bend, with the wheels greased by the town sheriff and the mayor, my father thought he was going to get rich. He'd gotten drunk and bragged to my mother about the life they were going to have.
It turns out that my mother already had a life that didn't involve him. She was having an affair with the senior Jed Easton – the fucking mayor of West Bend.
It also turns out that she had more balls than any of us would have ever thought.
She hit my asshole father over the head with a rock. Since he was a drunk and no one gave a shit whether he lived or died, it was ruled an accidental death. But my mother wanted him silenced so she could get the payout. And she didn't simply want to sell the property to the mining company.
As it turns out, my mousy, asked-for-nothing-our-entire-life, never-voiced-her-opinion mother wanted more than that. She wanted a kickback from Jed and the Mayor, money to buy her silence. She was going to blow the whole thing wide open – her affair with the Mayor, the fact that he and Jed were dirty as fuck, the mining company’s scam to scoop up properties from town residents at a price that was less than fair.
She was stupid and greedy.
And that’s why she died.
Before, I felt sorry for her. I’d felt sorry for her my whole life. I imagined her as a victim, the much-too-young wife of my asshole father, too spineless to leave him, too beat-down by life to be more than just a punching bag.
Except she wasn’t.