Page 47 of Monster in the Moonlight

HANNAH

Itake my foot off the accelerator as I get near my parents’ house.

Slowing to a stop under an old oak tree, I wrinkle my nose and squint at the way my father and Ellister are talking to each other on the porch.

I can’t tell what they’re saying, but the discussion looks heated with the way my dad is pacing and how Ellister throws his hands up every now and then.

What the hell?

Getting my cane, I start my slow trek across the front yard, trying to be quiet so I don’t get noticed while I eavesdrop.

“—valuable. We have a profitable business. We’ll show you. Tomorrow, we can give you a tour, and I can put together some numbers for your… boss. Anyone would be lucky to have the farm. I think he’ll want it.”

“Dad, no!” I shout with no tact or apology for interrupting their meeting.

Both men startle when they notice me at the bottom of the stairs, and their faces resemble two kids who just got caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

I start the daunting climb up the steps. My dad and Ellister move forward like they’re going to help, but I wave them off with a jerky, rude motion. “Don’t.”

“Hannah,” Dad chastises softly, like I’m a toddler throwing a fit.

Like I don’t have every right to be freaking out.

“What’s the one thing I asked for, Dad?” Huffing, I make it up another step. “What wish have I communicated to you for weeks?” I answer for him, “That the farm goes untouched, no matter what.”

“You don’t understand what’s going on, okay?” Dad’s hands tremble at his sides as he moves back, probably trying to resist the urge to assist me on the last step.

I grunt, sweat dotting my forehead as I make it to the top of the six-stair hike. “Oh, I think I do.” Gaining steady ground, I spear Ellister with my most venomous gaze. “I think this—this—thisstrangeris trying to take advantage of our situation.”

Ellister gives a slight grimace at how I referred to him as if he’s someone I don’t know. As if we didn’t share an amazing dance. As if we haven’t kissed.

But fuck him, especially after he went and flirted with Faith.

“You played the role of eccentric financial guy very well,” I cackle sarcastically. “You really had me fooled. You let me think you’re here to help us. To give us a loan so at least we have a chance of keeping our home. But the whole time you were planning to take it.”

“That wasn’t my plan,” he disagrees, his cold mask firmly in place.

“You’re a real estate vulture,” I go on, ignoring his denial. “I’m not dead yet, but you’re already circling overhead.”

Ellister’s indifferent facial expression doesn’t falter. “I would suggest you get over it, Hannah. Because you and I will be spending a lot of time together in the near future.”

“Like hell we will!” I exclaim.

“What he means is,” Dad chimes in, “you’re going to show him around tomorrow.”

“I will not.”

“Hannah, you always lead the tours.”

“For visitors. Not liars trying to weasel their way into our business.”

Tears well up in my father’s eyes. “Just do this. For me. Please.”

I’ve only seen my dad cry a few times. The first was when I was a teenager and his parents died in a motorcycle accident. The second was about a week ago—once we learned I was going to need a kidney transplant.

The third is now.

And it’s just as awful as ever.

---