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“So are you gonna tell me why I need wine to survive this picnic? Butt stuff was my only guess.”
He hauled himself up and offered his hand, pulling me to stand. Without letting go, he towed me through the grass toward the other side of the copse.
“Don’t take anything I’m about to say wrong.”
“Jesus, Grant—you’re really building this up.”
He stopped. Pulled me closer, our wine glasses extended so we wouldn’t spill. “Do you trust me?”
“Against all laws of the universe, I do.”
So he kissed me. “Good,” he said. “Then let me say what I need to say before you yell at me.”
I looked at him like he was crazy, since he was acting the part so brilliantly, but he pulled me through a break in the trees so I could see what was on the other side.
About a mile away, on the peak of a hill, stood a fracking well and the mass of equipment that came along with it.
My smile fell. I looked over the dig site in the distance, then kicked back the whole glass of wine, gagging when I’d gotten it down.
“I wanted to make sure you could see it with your own eyes. From here, can you feel anything in the ground? Can you hear anything? Smell anything?”
I checked my senses. Nothing from the ground. The only thing I smelled was dirt and grass baking in the sunlight. I did hear a distant truck motor, but otherwise, nothing.
“Not really,” I answered.
“If you decided to sell, we wouldn’t have any equipment on your land. In fact, the spot where we’re drilling that could reach your shale deposit is right there. The damage is done whether you sell or not. See, we come at the shale sideways. Bill Nye said drilling straight down is like sticking a straw in a sandwich. You get the good stuff in the middle, but it’s mostly bread. This way, coming at it from the side, all you get is the good stuff.”
“Grant—”
“Ah-ah. Let me finish. Please.”
Against all instinct, I shut up.
“Thank you. Here’s the thing, Jo. This is happening in your town. It’s been happening for a good while, and neither of us can stop it, not even me. I’m nobody. I make no decisions. So if it’s not going anywhere, why not cash in on it? You could make enough money that you could almost singlehandedly save Main Street. Think of all the good you could do. And what’s the risk?”
“Earthquakes—”
“Rare, and we’ve developed safeguards to stop them from happening.”
“But the resources. The water it takes. The emissions—”
“It’s already going to happen, and refusing to sign wouldn’t change anything.” A pause. A breath. “Don’t answer me now. Just think about it. Talk to your family. I know how hard you’re working to bring Main Street back to its glory, and this money could do everything you dream of. So just … just say you’ll think about it.”
I turned to look at him, searched his eyes, his face, and found no ruse, no lies. I found nothing but care and desire.
So I said, “I’ll think about it.”
He smiled. Took me in his arms, kissed me until I couldn’t breathe.
And I had no idea how stupid that promise would prove to be.
21
Just Ask Boris
JO
My sisters and I stood in a half circle around my mother with our arms folded, watching her put on makeup in her bathroom mirror.
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” she said with her mouth all weird as she did her mascara.
“You’ve spent the last two days with Merrick Stone, and you don’t see what the big deal is?” Poppy asked.
“Jo spends all her time with Grant.”
“And she catches hell for that too,” Poppy noted.
“It’s true,” I said.
She capped her mascara and turned on us. “I am so disappointed in you three. Whenever do I date? Whenever do I pay any attention to men? Your daddy has been gone a long, long time, and I’ve never really dated anyone. Don’t you think it’s been long enough?”
“Of course we do, Mama,” Daisy started. “We just don’t think it should be him.”
“Well, in that case, I guess you know best. Is that it?” She huffed, blowing past us for her closet. “I cannot even believe how you’re acting.”
“We cannot believe you’re entertaining him,” Poppy shot.
Mama whirled around. “You’d best watch your tone, Poppy June. Merrick is wonderful. He lost his wife just like I lost your daddy. We have a lot to talk about and a lot in common.” We opened our mouths at the same time, but she stopped us with one pointing finger. “Don’t even say it. We’ve had dinner and gone on a walk together. I hardly think that makes me a whore.”
“Don’t ask Marjorie what she thinks,” Poppy warned.
“Well, Marjorie can just stick it.”
“Have you kissed him?” Daisy asked.
