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We make our way out of Marcy’s street, and the old truck starts to pick up speed. Out past the Banks’ farm with its massive barn standing like a sentry over the fields. To the crossroads.
Where Eli turns right instead of left.
“Wait, where are we going?” I ask, craning my neck to look back the way weshouldbe going.
“I thought the farm life was enough,” he says, turning to look at me. His massive hand comes down to rest on my knee, and he gives it a squeeze as he looks back at the road. “But I never asked you what you wanted.”
“What I wanted? What I want is… Exactly what I have,” I finish, lamely, biting into my bottom lip in annoyance.
“And maybe I want you to have a little more. Trust me, angel. I know what I’m doing.”
* * *
It’sEli’s turn to look uncomfortable.
He’s a total fish out of water among the boutiques and department stores, crowds and traffic. I’m not much more at home here, to tell the truth, but I’ve been to Carmel with Marcy before, so I know which way we’re going.
And we are definitely in the wrong part of town.
“These are allreallypricey,” I protest as Uncle Eli drags me along like he can’t breathe among all these bodies. “We should head back the way we came. There are some great thrift stores and—”
“This will be fine,” he grunts. “Let me worry about the price.”
Does he know about some massive sale I don’t?
A second later, I find myself almost falling in through the double doors to La Belle Femme, probably the most exclusive boutique clothing store in the whole town. Even Marcy thinks twice about shopping here.
And it doesn’t take long for the sales assistants to notice we don’t belong.
“Can I help you, sir?” The one with the dark hair and glasses asks as she steps out from behind the counter before we can even get there. She looks about ready to call security. “The bathrooms are for customers only, I’m afraid. There are public bathrooms in the mall, if you…”
She trails off, and at first I’m confused.
She looks dumbfounded.
So I follow her eyes. And suddenly, I feel the same way.
Uncle Eli is counting out hundred dollar bills like they’re tickets for Mumford’s harvest festival. Used tickets. And they look like it too, all crumpled up and dog-eared, with what I hope is only mud from the farm smeared in the corners. At least nobody could ever suspect them of being forgeries.
“Five thousand,” he says, slamming it down onto the counter. “That ought to get us some more helpful service. And if I decide to buy my niece something more expensive, you’ve seen I have the cash.”
“Y—yes, of course, sir. I apologize. You’re looking for an outfit for the young lady? Perhaps if you tell me what you’re—”
“No.” Uncle Eli dismisses her with a wave of his hand. “You,” he says to the remaining assistant. “I assume you can be professional instead of a haughty bitch?”
I’m already tugging on his hand, and I finally find my voice. “That’s too much. I know we don’t have that kind of money…”
“I told you to let me worry about that. Now, tell the lady what you like.”
* * *
“No, I couldn’t!”I say in shock as I hold the dress up against me.
“It goes beautifully with your eyes,” the assistant tells me with a smile, turning to get Eli’s approval.
“But it’s…” It didn’t even have a tag. “I have no idea how much it is.”
“Four thousand dollars,” the assistant tells me helpfully, and I nearly crumple to the ground.
