The Sister-in-Law, Pamela Crane [have you read this book txt] 📗

myself out of the grave I had buried myself in. It was only a matter of time before the police came knocking on my door. I had researched every possible outcome for myself, and it all ended the same: jail, and a fine that would throw me into bankruptcy. The judicial system didn’t take kindly to tampering with evidence and insurance fraud. Of course I’d refute Lane’s involvement and spare his future, since he’d be the one taking custody of the kids. God forbid I let my mother spoil them worse than I already had.

‘I’m sure I look as terrible as I feel, Mom.’ You know you’re in it deep when your mother is the only person left that you can trust.

Elmo’s Diner was packed as usual, but it was always worth the wait. They had a menu that catered to Mom’s insistence on meals that she couldn’t make at home, coupled with my preference for tried-and-true dishes; it was the happy medium one rarely found in life. Across the austere table, Mom looked overdressed in a silk blouse with a cream blazer. Her blond hair was styled up in full waves, her go-to style when her gray roots were growing out, and it framed a face perfectly made up. The woman literally put her face on when she applied her makeup.

‘Would you like a refill on your tea, ma’am?’ the waitress asked me, carrying a sloshing pitcher full of southern sweet tea.

I definitely shouldn’t. I didn’t need the extra calories.

‘I’d love a refill, thanks.’

Outside of our booth’s window the sky brooded, like acid-washed jeans. I pushed my home fries around my plate, my stomach already full after eating the quiche and drinking two – now three – glasses of sweet tea, which Mom had clucked at. Sweet tea this early in the morning? she had scoffed when I placed my order. But it could be the last time I enjoyed sweet tea, because who knew if they offered it in jail? So I drank my fill, with Mom tsk-tsking in the background.

While I overindulged on tea, Mom picked at her salmon cake and eggs, a slow-eating trait she must have passed down the line. I lost count of how many times Jackson came home with notes from his teacher saying he needed to start eating lunch faster at school. Eventually the teacher sat him at a table by himself so he’d stay focused on his food, but he still took his sweet time eating, like a grazing cow with nothing else to do. When I found out my little boy sat all alone in a buzzing cafeteria packed with energized kids, my heart broke a little and that’s when I had started popping by the school for lunch to join Jackson.

‘Thanks for meeting me today. How’s your meal?’ I asked Mom.

She held up a finger, a gnarled twig tipped with cherry blossom pink nail polish, while she finished swallowing her bite. ‘Delicious, thank you. How’s yours?’

‘Good.’ But there was no good transition into what I wanted to tell her.

‘Have you given any thought to what you’re going to do with your house?’ Mom could always fill the dead air between us.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Certainly you don’t want to keep it … after what happened there.’

I swallowed a bite. ‘I’m renting it out. I have a family getting ready to move in.’

‘Rent it? Why not sell it?’

‘I’m not ready to part with it. All our family memories are there. I still feel Ben there, in the cushions of the sofa and the reflections of the mirrors.’

‘But it’s been almost two months since he died, honey. It’s time to start healing and moving forward with your life.’

‘I know, but he hasn’t disappeared yet, no matter how many times I clean the rooms. I’m not sure I want to move on yet.’

‘Harp, you can’t do this to yourself again. Hasn’t enough bad happened there? It’s time to let go.’

‘How can I? I’m not sure I want to say goodbye forever. Besides, I’ll be getting monthly rent checks to help pay the mortgage, so that gives me time to see how I feel about it a year from now.’

Mom slapped the table and my half-empty glass of tea trembled. ‘You want the burden of that house for a whole year? Renting is a pain, let me tell you. And it rarely turns a profit. Why weigh yourself down with the bills and maintenance of a large house like that when I could sell it quickly for you? It’s a seller’s market right now. I could get you top dollar for it.’

She grew more heated with each word, as if me holding onto my house was a personal affront to her.

‘To be honest, Harp, I don’t think you should ever return to that murder house. It’s not safe. What if the killer comes back? And besides, why would you want to be surrounded by the ghosts of the past? That sounds terribly painful.’

‘Just stop, okay? I don’t know why you’re so quick to forget Ben and—’ I stopped, unable to say her name, or else I knew I’d break down into tears that wouldn’t stop. ‘I know you never really liked Ben, but he was a good husband and a good father. We might have had our rough patches, but what couple hasn’t?’

‘What you two went through wasn’t a rough patch. It was a devastating loss, and he never truly supported you through it. I never even saw the man cry after she died. What kind of man doesn’t cry at his own child’s funeral? Especially when he’s to blame!’

‘Enough! I’m done talking about this. You blame him for what happened, but it was just as much my fault as his.’

‘Nonsense. The blame lies solely on him for her death. You know that, I know that. And at least you didn’t go cheating on him afterwards. The man deserved to die, if you ask me. Clearly whoever killed him felt the same way.’

A diner