No You Didn't

One: Seven Years Later

 It had been seven years since the Montgomery Murders, as they were called.

You should know that the only thing worse than death is the years after, when everyone else has forgotten it except for you.

For us, on the other hand, nobody in Ida Creek forgot. Instead, our family tragedy became Ida Creek's lore–a story some would tell and others would twist. A lucky coin of gossip that secured a spot in a secret club.

The townspeople weren't malicious in their intent, but it seemed to slip their minds that we still grieved over the fairytales they spun.

Nonetheless, forced to bend to the passage of time, our lives continued.

I was currently behind a cash register, bent over a yellow pad, a fistful of blonde hair knotted in my grasp.

Montgomery Clocks & Works was silent. But that was nothing new.

The scent of fresh wood permeated the air despite it being one of the oldest buildings in Ida Creek. From floor to wall to ceiling was dark-stained pine, harvested from the very woods of Ida Creek during the Civil War (a fact which hung on an informational plaque beside the door, which seemed to impress the occasional passerby).

A well-trampled royal blue carpet stretched from the front door to the front desk, where I sat.

"Dad, this just ain't adding up," I called, straightening for the first time in an hour. "The Barkley's haven't been paying you for months now. I don't see another way around it."

From the back room, Earl Montgomery, my father, emerged wearing a dusty white smock. Wood chips speckled his round glasses, but didn't hide the concern in his eyes as he looked at his daughter.

"Well...maybe we can excuse it. Just this once."

I pressed my lips together. "I reckon that's what's gotten us into trouble in the first place."

I gestured to the stack of bookkeeping records on the table. "If we want to make this month's quota, we're gonna have to collect. I'll do it, if you'd prefer."

Dad's shoulders sagged with relief. "If it ain't too much trouble..."

I snickered and rolled my eyes. If there was one thing Earl Montgomery hated, it was confrontation. I, on the other hand, rather enjoyed it.

"I'll go right now!" I leaped off the stool and headed for the door.

"Vivian," Earl warned gently, "be kind to them. They ordered two grandfather clocks last year. Custom mahogany. They're loyal customers."

"A loyal customer is someone who pays for the things they buy," I replied.

Dad raised his eyebrows in another silent rebuke.

"I know, I know." I waved my hand behind me as I left the store.

Ida Creek's downtown strip was quiet. It was the hours after the lunch crowd but before the quitting hour bustle, which was my favorite time to walk.

The eyes that always watched my every move were momentarily preoccupied with their own business.

The soft sun of early spring glittered down to earth, warming the sidewalk and my chilled arms.

I attempted to pull down my aviators from the top of my head, but had to wrestle them out of my tangled blonde curls first. The debacle left my hair in a knot that at least matched the rest of the mess up there.

I had a terrible habit of leaving my hair in whatever state it decided to wake up in. But I didn't usually greet the day ready to impress many people, anyway. Not that a nice hairstyle would do the trick regardless, considering there was a lot more things on people's minds when they saw me than the way I looked.