Chapter 78 - The Ghost of Arthur Vance
The moving men hesitated, looking between Clara’s frantic, bulging eyes and the cold calmness in my posture.
Pastor Thomas cleared his throat, taking a step forward to intervene with pastoral authority.
"Riley, God honors the fifth commandment: honor your father and your mother," Pastor Thomas warned, his tone darkening.
"If you force us to call the county sheriff, this will become an embarrassing public spectacle that ruins your reputation forever."
I couldn't help the dry, humorless chuckle that escaped my lips.
"Call him, Pastor," I said softly.
"Call Sheriff Campbell right now, and tell him Clara Vance is standing at my gate with bolt cutters."
Clara took half a step backward, a flicker of nervous hesitation dancing behind her eyes before she masked it with renewed fury.
She knew Sheriff Campbell had been my grandfather’s closest friend since they served together in the National Guard thirty years ago.
She knew Campbell had sat beside Arthur’s hospital bed during his final week, listening to the old man's confessions about the rot inside his family.
Arthur Vance had not died of dementia; he had died of a broken heart after discovering his daughter had drained his private pension behind his back.
For ten years, grandfather had quietly watched Clara siphon money out of the Vance Timber Corporation to fund her lavish lifestyle and buy church influence.
He had found the secret credit cards, the hidden offshore wires, and the forged checks she wrote from his personal desk while he slept.
Arthur had loved his daughter, but he was a timber man who understood that when a tree’s heartwood rots from the inside, you cut it down.
On the night before he signed his final will, Arthur had sat me down right here on this stone porch with Blackwood Lake rippling beneath the stars.
"Riley," he had whispered, his weathered hands rough as sandpaper against mine.
"Clara will come with hymns on her lips and daggers in her sleeves the moment the dirt settles on my grave."
"She will use every holy word in scripture to justify taking the only sanctuary I have left in this world."
"Do not weep for her, do not plead with her, and do not show her mercy."
"The envelope in my wall safe behind the mantelpiece contains the reckoning she built with her own two hands."
I pulled grandfather’s memory tight around my chest like a suit of impenetrable armor.
Clara glared up at me from beyond the iron fence, her jaw clenching so hard the muscles in her neck stood out like cords.
"You think you’re so clever, don’t you?" Clara sneered, leaning against the gate bars.
"You think Arthur left you this house out of love? He was a stubborn, vindictive old fool who wanted to punish me because I wouldn't let him drink himself into an early grave."
May you like
The congregation gasped at her sudden disrespect for her dead father, but Clara was too blinded by greed to care.
"This house was built on Vance timber money, and I am the only true Vance left standing here!" she screamed.
