Chapter 2
Mylie’s favorite part of the day was driving home from work, especially during the springtime. She was too tired and cranky
in the morning to appreciate the beauty of the Ozark Mountains, but at night, when everything was quiet and the day was wearing
off, Mylie felt like someone had created this entire expanse of earth just for her. In a few weeks, the tourists would be
coming in droves. They’d be gearing up for the big Spring Fling fishing tournament next month. Hook, Line, & Sinker played
a huge role in the festivities. They were one of the biggest sponsors of the tournament, and they even had an all-women’s
team this year to compete.
Nearly all of the businesses in town sponsored the tournament in one way or another. The Cracked Egg, the best restaurant
in town, did the most. Her friend Melissa, whose family owned the place, had already pledged to make this year the best year
yet.
There was a lot to think about, but not right now. Right now, it was just a few days into May, and everyone was still shaking
off the chill of winter. The mornings were cool, but the afternoons were warm, and Mylie loved it. Spring was in the air,
and right now, she had time to enjoy the calm.
Right now, it was quiet.
Some nights on her drive home, Mylie would take the long way. Which really meant she drove along the road behind her house, with the scenic lake views that led right past another house she didn’t visit anymore.
That was primarily because nobody had lived there in a long time. Once in a while, it would be rented out for the summer,
but mostly, it stayed empty. Mylie didn’t like to be reminded of its emptiness, but occasionally, she was able to drive past
and not think about the former occupants too much.
Tonight was not one of those nights.
As she rounded the corner and the house came into view, she noticed a large sign in the front yard. She knew that sign because
there were similar signs all over Clay Creek. It was a real estate sign from Courtney Williams, the best (and most annoying)
Realtor in town.
The house was for sale.
Mylie felt a hitch in her throat. She hadn’t expected this. Why would they be selling after all this time? Ten years was a
long time to keep a house empty to suddenly sell it. For some reason, the fact that she didn’t know this was going to happen,
that she’d just driven up on the sign pushed down into the grass outside the house, made her furious.
She didn’t have much time to think about it, though, because her sister, Cassie, was out in the front yard waiting for her
when Mylie finally pulled into the driveway. Her sister was fourteen, and literally everything was a catastrophe. Today was
sure to be no different. In her hands, she held the remains of what looked like a T-shirt, tears streaming down her face.
“Look what Granny’s stupid dog did to my favorite T-shirt!” She said before Mylie had even gotten out of the car.
Mylie could have sworn she saw that exact same T-shirt in the rag pile the day before, but she didn’t say that. Instead, she
said, “You mean the dog you brought home from the Walmart parking lot in Little Rock?”
This just made Cassie cry harder.
“It’s okay,” Mylie said, taking what was left of the shirt. “We can get you another one.”
“You can’t!” Cassie wailed, her ponytail whipping back and forth as she shook her head. “It’s a Twenty One Pilots concert shirt .”
“I bet we can find one online.”
“It won’t be the same!”
It took every ounce of strength Mylie had not to roll her eyes. “You didn’t even go to that concert, Cass.”
“Ryan brought it back to me!” Cassie replied. “That’s why it’s so special!”
Mylie looked down at the shirt. “Let me see what I can do.”
She shooed her sister inside. Surely Granny had something in her sewing table Mylie could use to fix... whatever this was.
Mylie wasn’t sure why Cassie hadn’t taken the shirt to Granny. She was probably out on the back porch smoking a cigarette.
Granny’s movements weren’t much of a mystery, especially on Friday nights.
“Where’s Granny?” Mylie asked, when she didn’t see her sitting out on the back porch. “Is everything okay?”
“She’s out there,” Cassie said, wiping her face. “She’s down toward the lake with Morris. I walked in on them whispering about
something, and Granny told me it was adult business and to go away.”
“I wonder if it has anything to do with the old Lawrence place going up for sale,” Mylie said more to herself than to Cassie.
Cassie shrugged. “Can you fix it?”
“I don’t know,” Mylie said honestly. “How do you feel about making this shirt a crop top?”
Technically speaking, Mylie and Cassie were half-sisters, but that wasn’t a term they used for each other. Cassie’s father lived in Little Rock, and she saw him a few times a year when it was convenient for him. Their mother had never been married to Cassie’s father, and in fact, he hadn’t even known Cassie existed until she was nearly a year old. Mylie still remembered the fear she felt when Cassie’s father came to Clay Creek for a visit, and Mylie spent the entire time watching him with an eagle eye, afraid he was going to take Cassie away from them. Looking back, she realized that had been a ridiculous thing to worry about. Cassie’s father was a bassist for a metal cover band. He wasn’t equipped to raise a child.
Of course, Mylie’s mother hadn’t been, either, and her own father had been dead for as long as she could remember.
For the last twelve years, it had been just Mylie, Cassie, and Granny, which was the way they liked it.
When Cassie refused to let Mylie cut her shirt, Mylie sighed and said, “Okay, well, I’m going to need more time than I have
right now. I’ve got a date tonight.”
“I wanted to wear it over to Allie’s,” Cassie said, her eyes welling up all over again.
“You can wear something of mine,” Mylie offered. Normally, Mylie would never offer to let Cassie anywhere near her closet.
Cassie had a habit of dropping food and all manner of things onto her clothing, but tonight she could see that it was either
offer up her own clothes or spend the whole evening fixing a shirt that was bound for the church rummage sale when Cassie
and Ryan inevitably broke up.
Cassie perked up. “Can I pick whatever I want?”
“Within reason,” Mylie replied. “I can’t let you leave looking like a hooker.”
“Why not?” Cassie quipped. “ You leave the house looking like a hooker all the time.”
“That’s because I’m an adult.”
“Fine,” Cassie grumbled. “But I want to borrow those cute sandals you bought last week.”
“I haven’t even gotten to wear them,” Mylie protested, and then, seeing the look on Cassie’s face, she relented. “Fine. But
please don’t ruin them.”
Mylie threw the destroyed T-shirt down on her bed and opened her closet to look for something to wear for her date that night.
She didn’t date often, not when she had so much responsibility at work and at home. But occasionally it was nice to get out,
have a date with an attractive man, spend the night with him, and then never call him again. Which is why she only dated men
who lived at least an hour away from her. The drive was inconvenient, yes, but it made everything else uncomplicated.
Eventually, she settled on a pair of jeans and a white blouse that made her skin glow. It also didn’t hurt that the top made
her boobs look fantastic. Granny called it the “generous bosom of the Mason family tree.”
Mylie would never have admitted it to anyone, not even her best friend, Jodi, who she’d known since kindergarten, but Mylie
liked being appreciated by men. When she looked in the mirror, the first thing she noticed was her blond hair, which she knew
was just average—you couldn’t throw a rock in Clay Creek without hitting someone with blond hair. But her eyes were the color
of the lake. Not the deep and murky brown of the depths, but blue with a hint of green, like when the sun reflected on the
water just right in the summertime.
Those eyes were her father’s, but the rest of her was all her mother. Her easily tanned skin, the freckles across the bridge
of her nose, and hips that were wide enough for any man to get a firm grip. And once they’d gotten a grip, they usually had
a hard time letting go. Those hips, Mylie was proud to say, had been the source of more than one bar fight.
Cassie was shoving her feet into Mylie’s sandals when she said, “That looks okay, but I think you need to add something.”
“Like what?” Mylie asked, turning to her sister.
“Hmm.” Cassie abandoned the sandals and went to Mylie’s jewelry box. She took out a small gold chain. “Here,” she said. “Try
this.”
Mylie admired herself in the mirror. She had been missing something. “Wow,” she said to Cassie. “You’re pretty good at this.”
“I am the only person in this house who has a boyfriend,” Cassie reminded her sister. “I know a thing or two.”
“Now, that’s not fair,” Mylie replied. “Granny has Morris.”
At that, the sisters dissolved into giggles. Morris was Granny’s “special friend.” They’d met years ago when Morris was Mylie’s
high school history teacher. Granny pretended not to know him in public, but everyone in town knew that Granny and Morris
were an item. He wasn’t usually over before dinner on a Friday night, though. Before she left, Mylie needed to go and see
what that adult business they’d been discussing was all about.
“Ryan’s not coming over tonight, right?” Mylie asked once they’d stopped laughing. “You said earlier you were going to Allie’s.”
“Ryan’s out of town with his dad,” Cassie replied.
“Because you know the rule, right?” Mylie continued. “No boys at the house...”
“Without you or Granny home,” Cassie finished, rolling her eyes. “I know, I know.”
Mylie squinted at Cassie. She believed her sister, but she didn’t trust Ryan. He was a little shit. “Okay, but...”
“I’m going to Allie’s,” Cassie said. “I promise. And both of her parents are going to be home.”
“All right,” Mylie conceded. “If you need me, just call me. I can be home in forty-five minutes.”
“Only if you want to get arrested,” Cassie replied. “Rockbridge is sixty miles away.”
“Just call me!” Mylie called over her shoulder.
She went outside and peered over the deck to the lake, where she saw Granny and Morris sitting in rocking chairs on the dock.
It was an old dock, and it needed repair. Mylie hated it that Granny insisted on plopping down into a chair as it rotted beneath
her, but nobody could tell Granny anything. If she wanted to do it, she was going to do it.
“Hey,” Mylie said as she neared them. “What are you two doing out here?”
Morris twisted around in his chair to greet her. “Hey, Mylie Girl. Wow, you look like you’re headed somewhere fancy.”
This prompted Granny to turn around and squint at Mylie. “Hot date tonight?”
“Just dinner in Rockbridge,” Mylie said, waving them off. “Cassie said she was going to Allie’s tonight.”
“She told me,” Granny replied. “That’s why I’m down here instead of slaving away in that kitchen in this heat.”
Mylie looked from Morris to Granny. “Well,” she said at last. “What was the adult conversation you two wouldn’t have in front
of Cassie?”
Morris and Granny shared a look.
“Does it have anything to do with the for sale sign in front of the Lawrence place?” Mylie continued. “Because if it does, it’s fine. It’s absolutely...”
“He’s coming back,” Granny said, cutting her off.
Mylie’s words stuck in her throat. She knew the answer, but she had to ask. “Who?”
Granny’s usual demanding countenance softened, and she replied, “Benjamin.”
Mylie wished there were more than two chairs on the dock. Just then, she wouldn’t have cared if the damn thing collapsed and took her with it. She cleared her throat. “When did you find this out?”
Granny stopped to light a cigarette, took a long drag, and blew the smoke out onto the water. “That idiot Realtor,” she said.
“She tried to put the sign in our yard. She about had a come apart when she saw me on the front porch.”
Their houses—the Lawrence house and the Mason house did look nearly identical, and they were basically next door to each other.
They’d been built by the same contractor back in the 1950s. Granny bought their house in the 1980s before Mylie was born,
but the other house had been owned by the Lawrences since it was built. That’s why Mylie had always assumed they’d never sell,
even though what was left of the Lawrences had moved to Chicago nearly ten years ago.
Ben.
Ben was what was left of the Lawrences. His grandfather and mother were both gone now is what Mylie had heard through the
grapevine in town. Still, nobody assumed he’d sell, and it had been at least two years ago when they’d gotten that news. Emily
Lawrence had always said that the house would stay in the family. Of course, Emily was no longer in charge of the Lawrence
legacy.
Mylie knew there was one more question she needed to ask, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask it. Finally, Granny took pity
on her and offered, “Courtney said sometime next week.”
Mylie rolled her eyes. Courtney was the worst. She was always parading around town like she knew everything. Mylie supposed in some ways, she did. She always found out when someone was going broke—house in foreclosure. She knew when people were getting divorced—family house for sale. In fact, some people in town had begun hiring out-of-town Realtors just so that Courtney wouldn’t blab their business all over town.
“I guess Courtney has told the whole town,” Mylie said.
“I warned her against it,” Granny replied. “I reminded her just how many sales that big mouth of hers cost.”
“He doesn’t need to come back to town to sell the house,” Mylie countered. “Does he?”
Granny shook her head. “No, I reckon not.”
Mylie took a breath and straightened her shoulders. “It doesn’t matter,” she said finally. “I’ve got to go. I’m going to be
late for my date.”
And with that, Mylie Mason turned on her heel and walked away, hoping like hell that by the time she reached Rockbridge, her
emotions would catch up to her words.