Chapter 5
I stared at the huge farmhouse with its rough four-by-four porch posts wrapped in spirals of pine rope. A wreath on the front door looked welcoming. A mat below it had the word on it. Still, I doubted I would be.
“We met at Christmas…just after Thanksgiving.”
“I remember,” I said through gritted teeth. “And I’m still glad we did, but I’m pissed right now, and I’m not going in there.”
The front door opened. Whether I was going in or not, someone came running out. “Gordo!” She waddled quickly, actually. The woman—I was assuming it was Gordon’s sister, Nancy—banged on the car door until he opened it, then she practically dragged him out and hugged him really hard. “Is this Marty? Oh my God! I didn’t know you were coming,” she said in through the open car door.
“Apparently no on
