Chapter 22: The Thing She Said No To

The envelope was on the kitchen table when I came down on Wednesday morning.

It was long and white, and my name was on the front in Orson's square handwriting.

Martha was at the stove with her back to me, being elaborately busy with an egg.

"I haven't touched it," she said.

"You've read the outside."

"I'm seventy-four. I read outsides."

I opened it.

Inside was a thick fold of legal paper with a blue backing, and a sticky note on top.

*The mill, the river lot and the cider license, in your name and Martha's. I'll sign wherever it says. I'll be gone by Friday if you want.*

I looked down at the note.

Then I turned the first page and saw the transfer, signed at the bottom in his hand.

The date was Tuesday's.

He had signed it the morning he mowed my father's grass, before I had told him one thing about what I wanted.

My hands began to shake.

The back door opened, and Orson came in with a crate of Cortlands on his shoulder.

He saw the envelope in my hand and stopped.

"Good morning," he said.

"What is this?"

"It's the mill."

"I can read."

He set the crate down very carefully.

"I thought," he said. "It's what the Drapers took. The land, the lease, the claim. It should come back. It should come back with interest."

"And you'd leave."

"If you want me to."

"You did not ask me if I wanted it."

"I'm not asking now. I'm offering. You can say no."

I put the papers on the table, one at a time, and squared them.

I could feel my face getting hot, and I let it.

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