“I don’t know.” Jack lowered his right leg to the floor and leaned forward on his chair. “He founded the town in 1864. Women weren’t even allowed to vote. But it’s obvious Doreen’s more committed to Trinity Falls.”
Darius nodded. “A hundred and fifty years. What do you think Ezekiel Sansbury would say about the fact that his town survived when so many others failed?”
Jack had wondered the same thing over the years. What would his great-great-grandfather say about the town’s longevity? How would he feel?
“He’d probably be pretty damn proud. Wouldn’t you?” Jack stood. “The town has had its struggles—the economy, civil rights. But we’ve weathered every storm and emerged even stronger.”
Darius arched a brow. “What’s preventing you from saying those words on your great-great-grandfather’s behalf during the Founders Day Celebration?”
Jack shook his head, in part amusement and part irritation. “You’re a master manipulator.”
“Zoey’s death was devastating to everyone who knew her. She was a smart, kind, and caring little girl who deserved a full life. Don’t you think she’d want you to have a role in the celebration?”
“You played that card when you convinced me to get a shave and haircut.”
“It worked.”
Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not looking forward to being on exhibit, Darius.”
“That’s obvious.”
Jack paced the room, trying to escape his agitation. “I don’t want people watching me in pity, whispering about me and my family.”
Darius shoved his hands into the front pockets of his black pants. “Since when do you care what people say, either to your face or behind your back?”
“Easy for you to say. You’ve never been the subject of public scrutiny.”
Darius’s brows jumped up his broad forehead. “Do you think it’s easy being the son of Simon and Ethel Knight?”
Jack conceded Darius’s point. His friend’s parents seemed to stage frequent scenes in public. “I’m not ready, Darius.”
“Do you want someone else to make that speech? My father, perhaps?”
Jack gave him a sharp look. “What makes you think Simon would try to speak for my family?”
“You implied it would be a good idea for him to take your place for Founders Day.”
“Shit.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
Jack stared at the honey-wood flooring of his cabin. The silence stretched as he considered his options. Was he ready to emerge from his self-imposed exile and rejoin his community, the community his ancestors founded? Or would his neighbors’ concern and pity serve as painful reminders of Zoey’s death?
He lifted his eyes and met Darius’s gaze. “If anyone speaks for my family, it will be me.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ll take part in the Founders Day Celebration.”
Darius inclined his head with a smile. “Good. I’ll tell my father.”
CHAPTER 9
Doreen couldn’t have looked more surprised if she’d opened her door Thursday evening to find Santa Claus waiting on her porch in the middle of summer.
Jack smiled at her expression. “May I come in?”
“Of course.” She seemed to collect herself.