Things that look steady are usually only one quiet decision away from changing. We had been lucky in the way steadiness is sometimes granted—by honest work, small mercies, and a town that, for all its gossip, had a generous streak. But life, as always, asked us to choose again.
It started with a call from Collins on a Wednesday morning. He’d been good to us in the blunt way businessmen are: fair enough, direct, the sort who rewards reliability and punishes drama. When his number lit my phone I felt the small, practical flutter of a person about to be given a problem dressed as an opportunity.
“Carter,” he said when he got me on speaker, Mark’s voice low and steady beside me at the kitchen table, both of us still in the dust of the week. “Got a proposal for you. A developer’s buying an ol
