Page 97 of Mountain Grump
He’s leaving all of this to me.
He won’t make me do something awful.
He just won’t.
Richard’s gaze slides over the paper as he reads. “You must be married. By your thirtieth birthday.”
My thirtieth birthday.
The one on Tuesday.
“What?” The question comes out quieter than a whisper.
I have five days.
If I can count today. And my birthday. I have five days to find someone to marry me.
I slump in my seat, squishing my little backpack between my body and the chair.
My mother stands.
Ralph steps closer to the desk.
Shouts fill the room.
But instead of listening, I close my eyes and focus on breathing.
Two million dollars.
I part my lips and pull in deeper breaths.
Two million, and if I don’t get married in the next five days, it goes to these people.
These horrible, selfish, greedy people.
He knew.
Uncle Jackknew.
If the money were to go anywhere else—charity, strangers—I wouldn’t stand in the way. I wouldn’t force some random person to marry me. I’d let the money go. I’d let it go literally anywhere. Except to these people.
These underserving, hateful people.
A sound gets trapped in my throat, and I don’t know if it’s humor or horror.
I shake my head.
Well played, Uncle Jack.
The movement dislodges something from my hair, and I open my eyes just in time to catch the sunglasses as they slide off my head.
I gently grip the shiny metal frame.
And I stare at myself in the reflection of the lenses.
Ethan’slenses.
I pull in another ragged breath.
