Page 9 of Meet Me on Greenwood

"He said you threatened to shoot them both," she said.

I rolled my eyes. "That is an exaggeration. I was taking the guns to the range."

"He wanted to press charges. I persuaded him not to, provided you agreed to stay away from him.

"He should stay away from me!"

"Not helping. And don't pretend you are hurt. I know you and you never liked that man." When I didn't respond she put a hand on my shoulder. "I do really think going to your father’s funeral is a good thing. At the very least it'll give you a chance to settle the estate," she said quietly.

I gave her a look. "Now Maise? Really?"

She put down her drink and leaned towards me. "You appointed me the president so that I would say the things you need to hear."

"First of all, I appointed you as president, because you are smart as hell and I needed to have a friend on the board."

She reached over and took my hand. "And as your friend, I'm telling you, if he left you anything, you need it." Her eyes swept the room. "Because if you come back empty-handed, the board is going to take General Bradley's offer. You know that."

I opened my mouth to argue and closed it again. Even if Maise voted with me, she was only one voice.

"You know how I feel about my father's money."

"I know the relationship was complicated. I'm not pretending otherwise. But if you want to keep your company, Gema, you better hope he at least left you part of the estate."

I stared at the glass in my hand for a long moment.

"So, I'm going to Oklahoma."

"We're going to Oklahoma," she said, standing up and smoothing her jacket. "You've convinced me. I just need to find the cowboy hat I bought at Beyoncé's last concert."

I looked up. "The disco one?"

"The very same."

"They won't let us into the airspace with that hat."

4

Houston

Culling Makes Fine Fowls

On Sundays, I had lunch at the Page’s home, but since this was a special occasion, we’d switched to the day before. The Collins family was already seated when I arrived along with the Tylers and Sterlings. All of them were considered old money, just like the Pages. They weren’t flashy, but wealth was evident in the rare wines they brought over for these casual gatherings, the discussion of their trips overseas, and the unapologetic way in which they moved through spaces.

Rebecca, Sarah’s mother, had made my favorite meal—or at least what I'd told her was my favorite when she'd asked two years ago, and I hadn't had the heart to tell her differently. Beef roast with asparagus, criminally under-seasoned without a speck of salt to be found. Every dish was edible, but none of them were memorable. I ate without complaint and thought about what Lettie, my housekeeper and friend would have waiting for me at home.

After our meal, I joined the men in the study for a cigar. I didn’t smoke, so I just drank the iced tea.

"When are you going to propose to my daughter?" Larry asked casually, and all the men in the room turned to me expectantly.

"I—uh, well I—" I stammered trying to think of what to say. The question had caught me off guard.

"If it is a ring that you need, don’t bother. Sarah has had her ring picked out since she was fifteen. You’d only be wasting your money."

"Oh, I didn’t realize," I said.

"These Page women." He snipped the end of the cigar with the satisfaction of a man confirming something he already knew. "They know what they want. Once that happens, we men just fall into line." He looked around the room. "Happy wife, happy life."

The other men snickered at the saying. I never liked it because it made it seem like men had to humor their wives. I wanted a wife that felt like an equal in the relationship, but in the south that was rare.