The Oakhaven General Store remained closed to me. So did the gas station. My pantry dwindled. The cold March wind rattled the windows of our cottage. We needed heating oil.
I drove the empty oil drum to the town supply depot, a place I’d frequented for thirty years. Mr. Henderson, a man whose children I’d watched grow, stood behind the counter.
He cleared his throat, his face red. “Can’t help you, Clara.”
“The tank is almost empty, Harold,” I said, my voice steady despite the chill in my chest. “We need oil.”
“Arthur paid off the depot’s chattel mortgage last week,” he mumbled, avoiding my gaze. “Condition was… you’re excluded from service.”
A shiver ran down my spine. Arthur wasn’t just boycotting me; he was buying up the town, piece by piece, to cut me off.
Outside, a sleek black car pulled up. Arthur Pendelton stepped out, a smug look on his face. He watched me struggle with the empty drum.
“Trouble, Clara?” he asked, his voice dripping with false concern.
“You know exactly what trouble this is, Arthur,” I said, my hands tightening on the drum.
He gestured to the sprawling O’Connor land across the road. “Look, Clara, let’s be reasonable. The town wants progress. A thriving community.”
He paused, then offered a cruel smile. “Sign over the waterfront portion of Eleanor’s land. Just the most valuable part. I’ll build a public park in your name. The ‘Clara Higgins Community Park’.”
My head snapped up. It was a vicious twist. He was using charity, my own name, to make me a villain if I refused.
“The boycott ends,” he continued, as if reading my mind. “Everything goes back to normal. The town will welcome you back with open arms.”
From down the street, I could hear murmurs. A few townspeople had gathered, drawn by Arthur’s presence. They were watching, waiting.
One of them, old Mrs. Gable, clapped her hands. “That’s generous, Arthur! A park for the children!”
Another man shouted, “Clara, don’t be greedy! Think of the town!”
The pressure mounted. Arthur was turning public opinion into a weapon, using their hopes for a park against me. I realized he wasn’t offering a compromise; he was tightening the noose.
My resolve hardened. This wasn’t about land. It was about Eleanor’s wishes, and what was right.
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