“Your parents … they don’t care if the shops here make any profit, do they?” I ask, and Church looks up with a smile, tossing the rag into the sink. His champagne colored slacks are soaked in the crotch, and it really, really looks like he peed himself, but since this is all my fault, I decide not to say anything.
“They don’t.”
“Because …” I lead, gesturing with my hand for him to continue the story.
“Because they’re both billionaires in their own right?” he suggests, and I give him a look. “Because they met and fell in love in Nutmeg, Chuck. My mother went to Everly and my father to Adamson. They kept seeing each other at all the coed events—the Halloween party, the Valentine’s Day dance, the bake-off. This town is the setting for their love story; they want it preserved.”
“That’s the reason they want to own everything?” I choke out, and Church sighs, like his parents are the most ridiculous people on the planet.
“That’s the gist of it, yes. They let the shop owners run their shops the way they always have, they pay them fair salaries, and they don’t care if the store is in the red. That’s why I’ve never asked them to give the diner back to Merinda. I know this place wasn’t making any money before we bought it.”
“And by fair salary …” I start, and Church smirks.
“Merinda drives a Beemer, Chuck,” he says, and I snort. Am I that obvious? I mean, socioeconomic inequalities really bother me, but that’s not the point. Ugh. Did I just say socioeconomic inside my own head? I wouldn’t have even been able to spell that word back in Santa Cruz, let alone use it in an independent thought.
“Well, shit, maybe the other shop owners want to sell their places, but can’t.”
“Because of the tunnels,” Church agrees. “The Fellowship doesn’t want my parents to get ahold of those buildings, just in case.”
“So that means there really must be something down there worth hiding, huh?” I ask, and Church nods, just once, but the gleam in his eye … that scares the crap out of me a little.
No way in hell is my future husband going down in those tunnels, with or without my other, you know, future husbands.
Not over my dead body.
Oh. Ow. Ouch.
Bad metaphor.
Over my living body.
They’re not going into those fucking tunnels over my very much still alive body.
Not a chance.Winter break rolls around, bringing with it my eighteenth birthday. All the boys have already had theirs, but none of them particularly cared to make a big deal out of it. We cooked and baked together, had little parties with candles in the Culinary Club dining room. And I put together small but thoughtful gifts for each boy. Spencer, Ranger, Tobias, and Micah got sex on their birthdays, but poor Church didn’t since we hadn’t quite gotten to that stage of our relationship yet.
Next year though, it’s on.
“Happy birthday, Charlotte,” Dad says at breakfast that morning. He asked me to come up for breakfast—just me—so we could talk. He even made French toast and scrambled eggs, adding bottles of hot sauce and ketchup next to the maple syrup. My gift is a beautiful frame with my acceptance letter to Bornstead U inside, printed on cardstock, the words embossed in navy blue. Yep, that’s a definite gift from the headmaster right there.
“Thanks,” I say, smiling and then setting my fork down next to my plate. “Pretty sure neither of us thought I’d live to see this day, huh?” I joke, and Dad’s face pales to an awful ashen shade. “I just meant, I thought you might kill me … like, metaphorically speaking. Also, my bad, I shouldn’t have made a death joke with a cult on the loose.”
“Charlotte,” he snaps, eyes darting to the door. To be fair, he has a reason to be nervous.
Last night, I sat down and wrote out a list of all the minor but creepy incidents I could remember from last year.1. that day the window above the sink was open and I heard rustling in the bushes
2. the large dark figure on Halloween—Mr. Murphy insists this wasn’t him
3. the candle wax in the girls’ dorm and the missing Jenica picture
4. the strange sounds in the foliage outside the girls’ dorm
5. the creaking sound of footsteps in the upstairs of the girls’ dorm—although this easily could’ve been RangerIt’s very clear that the Fellowship’s initiates have been stalking me for quite some time.
Dad exhales sharply, reaching up to rub at his temples. He seems to realize what he’s doing, forcing his hands into his lap and making himself smile at me.
“Your mother sent some gifts as well. I put them upstairs on your bed.”
“Awesome, thanks,” I say, wondering how long I have to sit here before I can call the boys to come get me. It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with Dad, just … we love each other, but we don’t have a ton to say to each other, if that makes sense. “Are you … going to be okay with seeing her on Christmas with Ian there?”
