I was so tired of being nice.
“You know what, Noah Barbanel? This isn’t up to you.” Our gazes tangled, angry and stubborn both. “You can’t dictate what I do. I don’t need your permission to talk to people.”
He pressed his lips together. “I could pay you not to.”
“Are you kidding?” Fury flashed through me, hot and sharp. Who did this guy think he was? “You can’t buy me off.”
“Why not?”
“Screw you.” I didn’t even know how to react; I’d been robbed of whatever small articulateness I’d ever possessed.
“I’m not trying to insult you. Think about it.”
“I’m not going to think about it! You can’t go through life paying people off to get what you want. That’s not how the world works.” At his skeptical look, I corrected myself: “It’s not how the worldshouldwork. Not if you have any integrity.”
His jaw hardened. “You donothave the high ground here, Abigail Schoenberg. You broke intomyhome. You went throughmyfamily’s things.”
“You’re right. I messed up. But I have a right to try to find out about my grandmother’s history.”
“And I have a right to protect my family’s privacy. I’m telling you, Abigail. Leave them alone.”
“This isn’taboutyour family! It’s aboutmine.”
“Really?” His eyes were flinty. “Because I don’t see your family on Nantucket. They’re not the ones who’ll have to deal with any fallout.”
“Whatfallout? I just want to ask questions!”
“Don’t.” His gaze bore into mine, hard as fossilized wood. “I can make your life difficult if you insist.”
I stepped back. “Are youthreateningme?”
“I’m just saying. I can help you or hinder you. Your choice.”
“Screw you, Noah Barbanel.” I pulled his books out of my bag and held them out. I couldn’t even articulate my rage. “Seriously,screw you.”
His jaw worked, but he finally took the books. “You should think about this.”
“You should think about not being an asshole.” I gave him a tight-lipped, defiant smile. “Good luck with that.”
Five
A list of things my grandmother wouldn’t talk about:
—Traveling from Germany to the States, by herself, as a child of four
—Her first years in America
—Her parents, who were gassed on arrival at Auschwitz
—The war
—Nazis
—Being German
—Being Jewish
A list of things my mom wouldn’t talk about:
