I drive to Bonny Beans, which is already closed for the day. Patsy and Kendall are there too, and Patsy unlocks it and lets me in. Sistine and Kendall are at a table covered in papers.
“Is this an intervention?” I ask.
“Kind of,” says Kendall.
“Yes,” says Sistine, shifting her weight in her chair. “It absolutely is. Sit down.”
She pulls out a chair, then grabs a bottle of water for me.
“What is all of this?” I ask.
“Turns out no one can keep a secret from Patsy,” says Kendall. “Even if you don’t live in Magnolia Row.”
“I did some digging on Garrett,” Patsy says. “Which I should’ve done a long time ago.”
I thumb through the piles of papers, which look like lawsuits. On the bottom are pictures printed from social media.
“I realize it’s a lot,” says Patsy. “But you really should know what’s going on, which I doubt you do.”
“Okay,” I say, looking at them with apprehension.
“Garrett’s company is in bankruptcy, and he’s being charged with defrauding investors criminally and civilly. A ton of his female employees are suing him for sexual harassment. He also has a few restraining orders against him for stalking. The pictures in the back are from Vegas trips he’s taken. It took me a lot of digging, but I managed to find them on other peoples’ profiles.”
My brain completely shuts down. I close my eyes and shake my head. “What?”
“Do us a favor and read through it,” says Kendall.
“Your boy has a gambling problem,” says Sistine, “not to mention a women problem, and I imagine an IRS problem at the rate he’s going.”
“Where did you even get these lawsuits?” I ask.
“My friend at church is a paralegal,” says Patsy. “It’s all on the state’s website if you have access, which I now do.”
“By the way,” says Sistine, “the only thing she found on Rhodes is his divorce.”
“Not even a speeding ticket,” says Patsy.
I put my hands on the table, palms down, and stare at the mound of papers. How was I so stupid to think Garrett’s kindness was genuine? Was he buttering me up because he needed money and attention? I can never tell them I gave him money. Never. This is humiliating. All I want to do is crawl under the table and cry.
“Thank you,” I say, fighting back tears. “I mean it. I needed to see this.”
“Take everything,” says Sistine, handing me the papers. “We’ve already read it all.”
I tuck the pile of evidence under my arm and stand up. “I have to get back to Nana,” I say. “She’s struggling a bit today.”
“Send her our love,” says Kendall. “And tell her my mama asked after her.”
“I will.”
I walk out, leaving my friends behind, and go back to the store. When I get there, Nana is leaning back in her chair, completely still. I freeze and stare at her for a moment, waiting for her to breathe. My ears pound in the overwhelming silence of the shop. After what feels like a full minute, but was probably only a few seconds, she lets out a huge snore, and it takes me a moment to catch my breath.
While she’s sleeping, I rummage through the supply cabinet to find a big envelope and a blank piece of paper. I writeDon’t call me again. -Micahon the blank page and put it on top of the stack of lawsuits and pictures. I then write Garrett’s address on the envelope, weigh it to calculate postage, and print the USPS label. It’ll be in the mail tomorrow.
RHODES
The drive to Magnolia Row gets longer and longer each time I hit the road. It’s over an hour of interstate, then miles and miles of farmland and forest. Even though it isn’t cold, I see a dozen whitetail deer grazing on the side of the road, completely casual, like they aren’t scaring every driver riding by.
For the whole drive, all I think about is Micah. I’m so eager to see her it feels like I’ll never get there. I even skip through my Spotify playlist to find songs reminding me of her.
