“This is Logan’s land. It’s all going to him when I die. It was his mother’s family’s land. He loves it.”
“I know he does. He has memories of his mom here, everything they used to do together. They both loved the land.”
“You see, Bellini, Logan’s going places. You know what school he’s going to, right? You remember?”
I did, and I knew that Drake was being sarcastic. I’d sat with Logan while he’d filled out the application, and I’d helped him with the essays. It broke my heart to think of him going to a different college than me, but I knew he should do it. It was a prestigious school, and Logan received a huge scholarship. Drake had been clear with Logan that he would not be giving him any money for college, not that he had any, so this was Logan’s way out.
In his junior year, Logan had won a huge, national award for high schoolers for a green-home model he’d built with an inventive heating and cooling system. In his senior year, he’d won first place in a national architectural contest for high school students by designing a modern farm, within a city, that was sustainable and helped build community, complete with solar panels, a greenhouse, vertical crops, small animals likegoats and chickens, a fish farm, and walking trails. The project addressed how this farm would thrive despite climate change.
His high grades, his SAT scores, his achievements in sports and leadership, his work at the hardware store and on their land had made him the perfect candidate: a hardworking, resilient, smart young man who had no money.
“Yes. I remember what school he’s going to, Drake.”
“This is an opportunity of a lifetime, and I won’t let my son indulge homesickness, or even think about coming home, because the dizzy, dumb daughter of a sloshy bartender from an insane, messed-up, law-breaking family has caught his eye.”
I felt like I was choking. I had known that Drake didn’t like me. Our families had been warring for generations. I thought it was ridiculous. So did Logan. But Drake was an obsessed, troubled, violent man who enjoyed endless feuds and relentless fighting. The “dizzy, dumb” insult was hurtful, but I wanted to hit him for what he’d said about my mother.
“My mother,” I said, “is Whiskey O’Donnell.” I knew very well he knew who my mother was. I knew how he’d tried to date her, and she’d rejected him. But I was proud of her, and I would say her name and stand up for her. “Lady Whiskey’s is her bar. It’s a successful business, and we employ many people we care about.”
“It’s a dive bar. It’s a dirty, broken-down place for dirty, broken-down losers.”
“It is not. Lady Whiskey’s is where people go to talk and make friends and see friends and be a part of this community. It’s a place where people can laugh and have fun and have great food.”
“It’s a place for people like you.”
“Yes, it is. It’s not for people like you, that’s for sure. My mother banned you decades ago because you don’t treat peoplewith respect, you’re a drunk, and you caused too many bar fights. Plus, you make my mother’s skin crawl.”
Something flashed in his eyes. Maybe a little embarrassment. My mother had turned him down many times. “I’ll spell this out, Bellini O’Donnell. You’re white trash. Your mother is white trash. Your family is white trash. My son can do better.”
“I am not white trash. My mother is not white trash. My family is not white trash.” My fury was rising to the explosion level. “No human being is white trash,Drake. How dare you say that? And what do you mean he ‘can do better’?”
“Better than you. You have a ridiculous name, as shameful as your mother’s, but that’s only where it starts. You will go to college, you will probably drop out, maybe pregnant, and you will end up being a bartender like your loud, garish, offensive mother. My son is going out East to a prestigious university. He will meet and marry someone far better than you, from a better family, with better prospects.”
“A better family? You are the one who recently got out of prison. Again. I heard there were a lot of watermelons and apples involved with your latest scuffle. You should have been in jail for far worse offenses. Starting with how you treated Laina and Logan. I believe that’s called assault. Assaulting your own family members? Drinking yourself into oblivion? Now you’re better than other people?”
He went purple with rage. “I don’t want my son married to you, Bellini.”
“I don’t care what you want.”
“Oh, you should,” he spat out, stepping closer again to scare me.
I stood my ground, but I could smell his rancid breath.
“Here’s the thing, Bellini.” He crossed his arms over his huge chest, and his mean, reptilian eyes pinned me. “You see this land that Logan loves?”
“Yes.” I was breathing hard. It broke my heart to think of Logan living day in and day out with this man. How had Logan ended up so gentle?Laina.
“It’s hundreds of acres. It’s his. But there’s a caveat.”
“What’s that?”
“What’s a caveat?” He smirked at me. “Not too bright, are you?”
“I know what a caveat is, Drake. What is it in relation to Logan?”
“His mother’s land passed to me when she died. She didn’t have a will. I was, legally, her next of kin. But I do have a will. The land all goes to Logan.” He paused and smirked. “But not if he’s married to you.”
I felt like I’d been run over. “Are you serious?”
