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“How’d you get it? How’d you get the mill? I heard you bought it yourself.”
“I have money, Finley.”
“What money?”
“Nosy little cupcake, are you?”
“A little.”
“My grandpa died,” I tell her. “While I was locked up. It was only six weeks ago, actually. He left me everything. My first stop was at his attorney’s office.”
“Wow. I’m sorry,” she says.
“It’s okay. He was old. He had a good life.”
That doesn’t make this any easier, though. Knowing someone lived life to the fullest doesn’t mean you stop mourning them being gone.
“He’s the one who bought it. Not me.”
“Your grandpa?”
“Yeah. My grandfather purchased it a few months ago when it went on sale. He wanted to try to prove my innocence, I suppose. Maybe. Or maybe he just didn’t think that anyone else deserved it.”
“Someone told me it only just sold.”
I shrug. Small towns are like that.
“He kept it quiet. Everything was just transferred into my name the other day, though. I’m guessing someone at the attorney’s office talked.”
“I guess so,” she shakes her head, like she can’t believe how unfair it is.
“I don’t know if he ever wandered out here,” I tell her. “He promised me he wouldn’t go.”
“We all know what promises are like,” she says carefully. “He probably had great intentions, but he could have felt tempted.”
“He was so old,” I tell her. “I was worried he was going to get hurt. I hope he listened. He was a stubborn man, though.”
“He visited you a lot, huh?”
“As much as he could.”
“What did you two like to talk about?”
“Anything and everything.”
“He kept your spirits up, huh?”
“He did. And I told him about you,” I tell her.
She blushes.
“You did?”
Of course, I did. She was the only reason I stayed sane during my time locked up. Looking forward to her letters was the highlight of every single day. I wouldn’t have been able to survive without her.
“Yeah.”
“That wasn’t weird?”
