I climbed into the passenger side, the smell of sawdust and old coffee filling the small cab.
“Mother,” Julian said, rubbing the back of his neck and keeping his eyes on the steering wheel. “Beatrice called me. She said you wouldn’t let the inspector do his job.”
“Julian, she brought a stranger to my house without warning,” I said, turning to face him. “She is trying to force me out, and you are letting her do it.”
Julian paused, his fingers gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles went pale. “She is just worried about the market, Mother. If we don’t sell now, the value… we might not get enough to cover the place she found for you.”
“I do not want to go to a home, Julian. I want to stay in my house.”
“There are some things we need to clear up,” Julian said, his voice dropping to a whisper as he stared out at the parking lot. “Some outstanding debts. We need this to go through quickly.”
“What debts, Julian?”
He did not answer, only rubbed the back of his neck again, his silence heavier than any explanation he could have given.
“I need you to tell me the truth,” I said, but he only turned the key in the ignition, the low rumble of the engine ending our conversation before it could begin.
I drove back up the hill toward the trees, the weight of his silence sitting beside me on the empty passenger seat.
Gary was sitting on his porch when I returned, his boots resting on the railing as he cleaned a small pair of shears with an oily rag. He looked up as I walked up his steps, his dry expression softening just enough to let me know he was listening.
“I talked to Julian,” I said, sitting on the wooden bench opposite him. “He won’t tell me what is happening, but Beatrice is rushing everything.”
Gary set the shears down, his wire-rimmed glasses slipping slightly down his nose. “She has been spending a lot of time around the property line, Clara. I saw her car parked near my fence last Tuesday.”
“Your fence?”
