Chapter 9 - The Account Settled
I didn't touch the envelope. I let the head of the maul slide off the ash round until the steel rested in the frozen dirt.
""You think everything has a price tag from the farm store, don't you?"" I asked quietly.
""Everything has a price, Dane!"" Jared barked, his face twisting into that old, vicious sneer. ""Don't act holy! You live in an eight-hundred-square-foot box on a dirt road while I’m clearing eighty grand a year! You need this money! You take it, she makes one phone call to Alyssa, and we’re square!""
The kitchen door opened with a slow, metal squeak.
Maeve stepped out onto the back stoop. She had a thick wool cardigan wrapped around her shoulders and a mug of black coffee in her hand. She walked down the three wooden steps, her boots barely making a sound on the frozen gravel, until she was standing right beside me.
She looked at the brown envelope in Jared’s shaking hand.
""What’s that?"" she asked.
""It's five grand,"" I said. ""He wants you to tell Alyssa you have bad eyesight.""
Maeve took a sip of her coffee. The steam rose up around her face, carrying the bitter scent of diner roast into the freezing morning air. She looked at Jared the way she looked at the drunk truckers who thought leaving a five-dollar tip gave them permission to touch her shoulder at the counter.
""Put it back in your truck, Jared,"" she said evenly.
""It's five thousand dollars!"" Jared yelled, waving the envelope right in front of her face. ""You work thirty hours a week carrying scrambled eggs to farmers for change! You think you’re too good for five grand?""
""I am,"" Maeve said, her voice dropping into a register that made Jared’s hand drop an inch. ""Because my five dollars buys me a clear conscience and a husband who looks me in the eye when he comes through the door at six o'clock.""
""You ruined my life!"" Jared’s face went purple. ""Alyssa was mine! We were married! We had a house on the golf course! We were going to build a deck in the spring!""
""You didn't have a wife, Jared,"" I said, stepping between him and Maeve. ""You had a hostage you bought with a lie.""
Jared stared at me. His chest was heaving, his fingers clutching the thick manila envelope so hard the paper creased and split along the edge, showing the green corners of the currency inside.
He waited for me to waver. He waited for Maeve to look at the money again. That was his gift—he always believed that if he stood in front of a person long enough, if he talked fast enough, their principles would eventually develop a leak and he could crawl right through the crack.
Nobody spoke.
A winter crow flew over the brome field, its wings making a dry, whistling sound against the gray clouds.
Finally, Jared’s shoulders slumped. The anger seemed to leak right out through his shoes, leaving him looking hollow and exhausted. He lowered the envelope to his side.
""Mom won't ever speak to you again for this, Dane,"" he whispered, turning his eyes toward the road. ""You know that, right? She’ll never let you back in that house.""
""Mom stopped speaking to me the day you learned how to lie, Jared,"" I said. ""Go on home. I’ve got three cords of ash to split before the snow hits tonight.""
Jared stood there for five more seconds, then turned and walked back toward his Navigator. His boots dragged in the limestone dust. He threw the envelope onto the passenger seat, slammed the door, and backed out onto the section road so fast his rear tires threw frozen gravel into our mailbox.
Maeve watched the dust settle. Then she reached out, took my right hand, and pulled the heavy leather work glove off my fingers. Her skin was warm against mine.
May you like
""Cold out here,"" she said softly.
""Yeah,"" I said, looking down the empty section line where the black Lincoln had vanished over the hill. ""It’s Iowa in November. It’s always cold.""
