Page 51 of Before We Say Goodbye
“How much?” Bec asked.
“No,” Otis said, his body tightening. “Don’t say it. I don’t want to know.”
“Oh, c’mon,” Lloyd said with greed dripping from his words. “You want to know.”
“You say a number, and I’ll punch you in the mouth.” Otis gripped the water glass in his hand so hard he felt the glass bend.
“Otis ...” Bec said, as if he were a dog who’d stolen her sandwich.
“Don’tOtisme. I don’t want to hear it. This place is not for sale, and I’m not going on Gallo’s payroll.”
“Everything is for sale,” Lloyd said.
“No, it’s not. We’re getting closer and closer to buying you out, and I’m going to farm this land till the day I die. I belong here, every bit as much as I belong with Bec.”
Lloyd uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. His teeth were as white as the pope’s robe. “Gallo doesn’t go around throwing money at people every day. We can find another piece of land and do it all over again. Well, after a few years. They want you to sign a noncompete.”
“This is laughable.”
Lloyd looked at Bec as if she were the sane one of the two. He stated Gallo’s bid.
“What did I say?” Otis’s teeth clenched, the tendons in his neck twisting.
Lloyd kept his eyes on her. “Think about it. I’ll stop back by tomorrow around the same time.” He glanced at Otis. “I knew you wouldn’t jump on it, but let’s see if it makes more sense after sleeping on it.”
That night, after they’d tucked in their boys, Otis made Bec a vermouth over ice and gave himself a hefty pour of Glenmorangie, because anything other than scotch wasn’t strong enough for the forthcoming conversation. He sneaked a large sip and then topped his glass off before finding her in the living room listening to Fleetwood Mac.
Lowering the volume on the record player, he said, “Can we please finish this conversation?” They’d revisited the topic of selling maybe ten times since Lloyd had left, never once finding common ground.
A sigh escaped her lips.
“I know, I know, but we have to. I need us to be on the same page.”
“You mean, youneedme to see it your way.”
Otis handed her the vermouth, then set his drink down on the coffee table before sitting next to her on the couch. “Well, yes. Yes, I do. I let you win all the time. This one, I need.” He pressed his hands together in prayer position. “I’m begging, Bec. Let this go. I don’t want to sell. We haven’t done what we’re supposed to do here.”
She stared into the purple hues of the vermouth. “You don’t know what it’s like to be poor. Not really.”
“We were dirt poor for years after we first met.”
“We were kids. We have a family now. This is a chance for us to never worry about money again.”
“I’m not worried about money now. You don’t need to be either. We’re just getting started. We don’t need Gallo’s money to be rich.” Something occurred to him. “Is this about helping your mom and dad out too? Your brother?”
“Not only that, but yes. I would like to take care of them.”
Otis shook his head, frustration seizing him.
“I also think it might be a good time for you to take a break. Before you kill yourself.”
Otis rubbed his eyes and then massaged his temples. This was theonebattle she couldn’t win. “Look, I’m working on slowing down. We can keep helping your family out. I’ll watch my expenses. We’ll focus more on saving, but we can’t sell this land. You might as well rip myheart out and stomp on it.” He found her eyes. “Please, Bec. My soul is here. My destiny.”
She set her glass down next to his and sat back. It took her a moment, but then she finally looked at him. “More than anything, I’m worried about you.”
“You don’t need to be. I am already feeling more relaxed. Let’s not give up on what we’ve built. I’m a new man, Bec. Let me prove it to you, okay?”
She gave the smallest nod possible.
