Part 4 (1/2)

”One more, that's it!” I told her.

”Which means, like nine more,” Julianne said.

”I just wanna hear what goes on at these meetings,” I said, ignoring her. ”I'm not inserting myself into Spellman's death.”

She glanced sideways at me, shaking her head. I knew I was driving her a little nuts, but I was genuinely curious. The fair was a big deal in Rose Petal and if people were s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g around with it, I wanted to know. It wasn't just that anyone a.s.sociated with the fair might be losing money. The fair had been around for as long as anyone could remember and there were tons of Rose Petal residents who poured their hearts into the week to continue the tradition. If someone was undermining that, people needed to know.

”You'll find a way to go even if I say no,” Julianne sighed. ”So just go.”

”I won't say a word,” I said. ”I promise.”

”Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes. ”Just don't expect me to bail you out if you get arrested or something.”

”I'll take cash with me.”

Carly was at the top of the slide and I walked to the bottom. She frowned at me, then jettisoned herself down the slide. She tried to scoot by me, but I grabbed her and picked her up. ”Nope. Said that was the last time.”

”But, Daddy!”

”No buts. It's time to go.”

Her bottom lip quivered and tears formed in her eyes. ”I wanna keep sliding!”

”Maybe tomorrow.”

She let loose with a bloodcurdling howl and burst into tears. People in all directions turned to look and immediately gave me the raised eyebrow, wondering what I had done to make this cute little girl scream her brains out.

I looked at Julianne. ”We're really gonna have another one of these?”

”Yeah,” she said, grinning evilly. ”And I hope it has a penchant for making one certain stay at home dad's life a little more uncomfortable.”

She really needed to get that kid out.

9.

”I do not understand why anyone would pay me to dig holes in my backyard,” my father said.

We'd been home an hour before my mother and father had barged in the front door, my mother because she'd gotten wind that Carly was upset over something at the fair and my father because someone was apparently offering him cash to mess up his yard. Julianne was flat on her back on the sofa, her feet in my lap, feigning sleep, probably relis.h.i.+ng the fact that I was having to deal with them when I just wanted to pa.s.s out.

”What exactly are you talking about?” I said, reaching for the beer I'd set on the end table.

He frowned at me from his spot in the easy chair. ”Have you not been listening?”

”Actually, no. I haven't.” I took a long gulp from the bottle. ”You tend to ramble on about nothing and I find that it's easier to tune out and pretend I've listened than to actually try to follow what you're saying. I started doing it back in high school, actually.”

His frown turned to more of a snarl. ”They want to dig in the backyard.”

”Who?”

”The gas people.”

”People made of gas? How can you see them?” His face screwed up with irritation. ”Pammy! Where are you?”

Julianne's fingers dug into my thigh, but her eyes remained shut. She should've been an actress instead of an attorney. I wasn't sure whether she wanted it quiet or she was enjoying the conversation and wanted me to know it.

My mother walked into the room, holding hands with a red-eyed Carly, who was munching on an ice cream sandwich.

”What?” she asked my father. ”And don't yell. Julianne and the baby are sleeping.”

”Explain to your son about the diggers,” he hissed.

”Well, they're this family on television that has, I believe, nineteen kids . . . ,” my mother began.

”Not those crazy yahoos!” my father barked. ”Those are the Duggars! I said diggers.”

My mother parked herself on the floor and Carly gravitated toward my father. He scooped her up and set her in his lap. She was oblivious, studying the ice cream in her hands.

”Oh, yes,” my mother said. ”The diggers. Apparently, we own some valuable land.”

”How valuable?” I asked.

She shrugged. ”We don't know. They want to come to talk to us about it. Or, rather, they want to come talk to your father because I'm entirely uninterested in the subject.”

”Again, I ask-who exactly are they?”

”What was the name of the company, Eldrick? I can't recall.”

”Taitano Resources,” my father spat. ”Like they're trying to confuse me or something into thinking they work with computers with a fancy name. Please.”

I didn't recognize the name of the company. I took a long drink from the beer. ”I'm totally lost here.”

My father settled back in his chair and wrapped his arms around Carly. ”Taitano Resources is an oil and gas outfit. They want to drill on our property.”

My parents had owned the same house on the same several acres since before I'd been born. My father had long maintained that one reason I'd excelled in football as a kid was because we basically had a football field for a backyard, where he had spent hours throwing me pa.s.ses. They were among the early residents of Rose Petal before suburbia had encroached and started throwing up fancy new neighborhoods with gates and streets named after jewels and ponds.

”I got that much, thanks. Drill for what?” I asked.

”Natural gas,” he said, making a face. ”Apparently, we're sitting on it.”

I stroked the sides of Julianne's feet. ”So tell them no.”

He glanced at my mother. ”But they're offering us a lot of money. To lease the land. Or however those leases work.”

”I find it hard to believe you don't know how the leases work,” I said to him.