Page 12 of The One Before

We didn’t linger on the topic long. Thank goodness. It’d be that much harder to live with myself if our entire conversation that day revolved around Cooper Douglas. We kept talking about school and the latest season ofThe Bachelorand had a random debate over which was superior, cookies or brownies? That led to us getting ice cream, and we sat in the park until sunset.

Then, I hugged my vibrant, glowing girl goodbye. Never once did I think it would be the last time I’d see her. I’ve almost memorized every detail of that last embrace. Her vanilla smell and plush shirt and wet cheeks. Just because we didn’t see each other often didn’t mean we didn’t want to. She missed me when I was gone, and I missed her. I still do.

Even the happy memories hurt now. It’s unfair. All of this is so unfair. But I need to stop rehashing the past and focus on the present. On retribution. It’s time Cooper suffers for everything he has taken away.

Eight

Madison

Coop’s workload carries over into the weekend. His responsibilities as editor-in-chief are more taxing than his role at theChronicle. Most people would take it easy, not let the pressure of running a newspaper get to them because their family calls the shots. Coop’s not like that. He wants to prove himself, probablybecausehe’s a Douglas. He wants people to respect his first name as much as they do his last.

I’d wanted to go furniture shopping. The limited furniture we brought from Atlanta barely covers a quarter of our new space. I’m running out of storage, which puts the rest of the unpacking process on hold. Coop suggested I go shopping with Josephine instead.She’s got a better eye for decorating, he said. This first week, I’ve seen my in-laws more often than I’ve seen Coop. It’s a different dynamic here, though. Family plays a larger role because there’s little else to soak up the time.

I’m waiting on the front porch when a black SUV pulls into the driveway. The windows are tinted, but transparent enough for me to see Josephine in the passenger seat and Roman behind the wheel. It’s hard for me to put my finger on what Roman’s like exactly. He exudes Coop’s charm but lacks his responsibilities.

“Nice day,” he says as I slide into the back seat.

“It really is,” I say, my gaze turning to the lush woods surrounding our house. Each day, the view alters slightly, the leaves an ever-changing presence. “I’m surprised by how beautiful it is here.”

“Tennessee is breathtaking in the fall,” Josephine says, as Roman backs out of the driveway. “That’s when tourism spikes.”

“I can see why,” I say. I’d never thought of this pocket of the country as being a vacation destination, but according to Coop, I’m wrong. Perhaps it’s because I grew up in the city, and time away usually meant booking a week at the beach. “Does Whisper get many visitors?”

“More the surrounding areas,” Josephine says. “Gatlinburg and Knoxville and Chattanooga.”

All places I’ve heard mentioned but have never been.

“Whisper could have been a tourist trap, but Mom put an end to that,” Roman says.

“How so?” I ask, intrigued.

“Back in the early aughts, outside investors took an interest in this place. They thought Whisper Lake would be an ideal destination for a luxury resort,” she says, as though retelling a fond memory. “They wanted to buy a hundred acres of land.”

“Could have been our ticket out of here,” Roman says. His reflection in the rectangular rearview mirror is smiling, but I sense an edge in his voice. “Could have made millions.”

By all appearances, the Douglases are wealthy as is. I can’t believe they were in the position to be worth even more. “What happened?” I ask.

“Mom refused to sell.”

“They were offeringyouthis money?” I ask Josephine.

“I owned most of the property. All landowners were required to be in agreement, and I was majority stakeholder.” Somehow, she speaks about her finances and sounds self-assured, not greedy. “Roman’s right. I held up the deal.”

“It was like winning the lottery and refusing to cash in,” Roman says, turning into the downtown area.

“Why didn’t you?” I ask.

“Not everything in life is about money,” Josephine says.

“Says the rich woman,” Roman goads.

“Whisper Falls is charming and quaint. There aren’t many places like it anymore,” she says, speaking as though describing an old friend. “I couldn’t imagine these same streets being littered with Burger Kings and mini-golf establishments and bait shops. Change isn’t always good.”

“You still seem a little bitter about the decision?” I say to Roman, wavering my voice to make it clear I’m only kidding.

“Yeah, yeah. I was a kid at the time. It wasn’t my decision to make. It’s something I like to think about now and then, though. How this place could have been different.” He stretches his arm and squeezes Josephine’s shoulder. “Really, I just like to give Mom a hard time.”

It certainly would have changed the area. Aside from the profits for the Douglases, a deal like that could have brought more money to the area. Job opportunities and tourism. Do the people here even know about the opportunities Josephine has taken from them? Looking out the window, I imagine a different type of Whisper Falls. Try to decide if I’d be happier in that place. The car stops, and I see we’re outside a large warehouse called Turner’s.

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