I pointed to a seat by the kitchen table and then offered him something to drink.
“Water,” he said, but he didn’t take a seat. Instead, he looked around, hands behind his back. “You and Scarlett did a great job on this place. I was here once, years ago. It wasn’t nearly as nice then. It had potential, though. Just needed the right souls to occupy it.”
Scarlett kept the refrigerator stocked, and I took out bottled water for him and a beer for me. Something stronger would probably be called for later, but I needed a clear head to get through this.
He thanked me when I handed him the water, and I thanked him for what I considered a compliment toward the house and us.
He lifted a framed picture of him and Scarlett from our wedding day, taken from a table close to the front door, and smiled. “At least she hasn’t burned it. Or is she using it as rodent control?”
“She loves you,” I said, taking a pull of beer. “She’s not the vindictive kind.”
He stared at the picture. “She is gorgeous,” he almost whispered to himself. “Just gorgeous. Always something special about that one.”
“Agreed.”
“Yes,” he muttered, standing up taller, placing the picture back on the table. “I’ll take that seat now.”
We each took a chair—me across from him. It’s wise to look a man in the eye when you speak to him, just as it’s code to always stand when shaking another man’s hand. Facial expressions and body language sometimes explain what words only hint at.
He took a long drink of water and then set the bottle down. “I appreciate you not pressing the issue at hand. I needed time to think.”
“I’m sure you did.”
“I never planned on telling. It’s a secret I planned to take to the grave. Until it was brought to my attention how Stone had been treating you.” A long silence stretched between us until Everett cleared his throat and leaned forward.
“Whatever you had done as a young man, it did not warrant that type of abusive behavior. I didn’t want something to happen that couldn’t be reversed. Stone can be a hot head when it comes to the pursuit of the truth. I’ve known him since childhood. Elliott loved you. My daughter loves you—hell, she’d refuse to live in a world without you in it.
“Therefore, in preparation of my own death, I wrote a letter, had my estate lawyer seal it, and when the day comes—not today, mind—for me to depart, you’ll receive it. It’s a written account of what I am going to tell you today.”
He was leaving behind insurance. I downed the rest of the bottle until I hit foam.
“You want to grab another bottle? Or whiskey? You’re still young enough to drink it. Down it while you can.” He raised his bottle of water and then put it to his grinning lips.
Tempting as the whiskey was, I passed.
He nodded at this, commenting on how wise a choice that was. Whiskey could be a fog inducer. He didn’t want to tell this story twice. I doubted that it was worth retelling, judging by the beads of sweat along his hairline.
Getting up, he went to the refrigerator and took another water, this time guzzling half of it down before he took his seat again.
“Water,” he said. “Nothing like it.”
I nodded, sliding the beer bottle back and forth between my hands.
“Have you ever heard stories about Old Man River?” he asked.
I looked up at him. “I doubt you’re referring to the old Sinatra tune.”
He laughed at that, the way a man laughs at a joke the warden tells before execution. “Not even close.”
“Didn’t think so. But yeah, some of the kids around town used to bring him up now and again. Called him a ghost—left one day and never returned. Claimed that he haunted the railroad tracks.”
Everett’s face paled at that. “He was no ghost, just a man. I can testify to that. He was a man who enjoyed his drink. Too much. But I’m getting ahead of myself.”
He put the bottle to his lips, preparing to drink again. I didn’t miss the longing look he gave the cabinet that held the whiskey before he took a sip. The bottle called to me too, but I snapped its mouth shut.
“How much do you know about the Stones? About your mother?”
I opened and closed my hands. I probably knew more about the Stones’ history than the latter. Maggie Beautiful had a long history, but my knowledge of it had begun when Luca got her pregnant.
