Page 26 of Holding Ground

“You shouldn’t have rented it to her.” And not just because of what she’s here to do. Because of reasons I don’t even want to examine.

Roy rolls his eyes. “I didn’t know who she was when I rented it to her.”

“That’s why you ask questions.” I shoot him a look, but Roy shrugs. Nothing gets under the guy’s skin, which is good since four kids were left on his doorstep, metaphorically speaking.

Ansel grins. “The best part is she’s living in your backyard.” He and Hollis look at one another and laugh.

“We have an entire yard between one another.” I take a pull from my beer, needing this conversation to go another way.

“Come on. It’s hilarious.”

I cut Ansel a look.

“Hollis, back me up here,” Ansel says.

Hollis lifts his beer and says, “It’s a little hilarious.”

“She seems nice,” Clyde says. “Ran into her at Dottie’s this morning. Good handshake. Looks you right in the eye.” He puts his two fingers pointed toward his eyes and back to us. Clyde has never met anyone he didn’t form an opinion about in the first thirty seconds.

“You judge people like it’s a boat you’re buying for the marina,” Jimmy says.

“A firm handshake is important. It tells you a lot about a person.” Clyde nods as though that’s that.

“It tells you they want you to know they have a firm handshake,” Jimmy says.

Sam sets his cards down with care. “She came into the bakery when I was in there yesterday. After she left, Deacon said he might have to name something after her, which would be a first. She’s making an impression.”

All this talk about Emelia is making me itch along my neck. “She’s here to sell us on a development that can change everything about this town.” I frown. “That’s what we should be talking about. That’s what matters.”

Roy peeks at me over his reading glasses. He has this thing—has had it my whole life. He doesn’t tell you that you’re wrong, but he looks at you long enough that no words are needed. “We can talk about both things.” He finally picks up his cards off the table.

Maybe now all Emelia conversation can end and we can get on with this game.

“There’s nothing to talk about. She’s doing her job, and I’m gonna do mine,” I say.

“Which we all thought was running the camp,” Ansel says.

“You’ve appointed yourself guardian of the town,” Hollis adds.

I really hate it when my brothers are on one side—against me. Then again, without Sutton here, it’s always two against one. Roy refuses to ever verbally speak his side, although usually, you get the gist from stares alone.

The table goes quiet for a beat. They all agree with my brothers. Hollis smiles, easy and warm, and he knows his point was made. But if I don’t do it, who will?

“Somebody has to,” I grumble.

“Sure.” He shrugs. “Just making sure you know the difference.”

Ansel tosses a potato chip into his mouth, chomps once, but continues talking. “All I know is that if I had a woman who looked like her living in my backyard, I’d buy a lottery ticket. And you can be damn sure I’d be a tour guide to Echo Lake.”

“I’m civil.” I scowl.

I was civil. In fact, I even thanked her for doing Baylor’s hair. How much more civil can you get?

“You’re civil like a guard dog,” Ansel says, then laughs at his own joke.

“What about you, Roy?” Clyde leans back in his seat and gestures toward my uncle. “You saw her in action last night. What do you think about her?”

My uncle looks at his cards, but he’s not really studying them. His dramatic pauses are his staple when he wants to pretend to think about something, even though his decision is already made. “I think she’s carrying more than she lets on. And I think it wouldn’t kill Elliott to remember that not everyone who shows up here is looking to destroy something.”