I did not mention the ninety-dollar utility bill from the gas company that was already sitting in my purse, unpaid, or the fact that my savings account was down to three digits. The move had taken almost everything I had from my wages as a medical supply office assistant, and the thought of the winter ahead made my chest feel tight.
“Valerie Vance lives on the south side of your driveway,” Rachel said, pointing her black marker at me. “Her husband owns Vance Construction. They paved half the county. Just keep the car in the garage.”“The garage has a rotten sill plate,” I said. “The door won’t lift more than two inches before it jams on the track.”
“Then park it behind the kitchen,” she said.
“We’ll manage,” I said, though the back of my neck felt tight as I tucked the last box of winter coats into the corner. “It’s a roof over our head that we don’t have to pay rent on, Rachel. That’s what matters.”
“Just don’t let them push you around,” Rachel said, leaning against the counter. “People with that kind of money think they own the view.”
The morning sun was just beginning to cut through the gray mist rising off the lake when we turned onto the gravel road the next day. The Chevrolet made a low, steady hum as we drove, the smell of old vinyl and gasoline filling the cabin. I held the steering wheel tightly, feeling every bump in the unpaved lane as we passed the local bait shop and the small grocery store with its faded sign.
