Back Big Lies in a Small Town
Chapters (70)
  1. PROLOGUE
  2. Chapter 1
  3. Chapter 2
  4. Chapter 3
  5. Chapter 4
  6. Chapter 5. Morgan
  7. Chapter 6. Anna
  8. Chapter 7. Morgan
  9. Chapter 8. Anna
  10. Chapter 9. Morgan
  11. Chapter 10. Anna
  12. Chapter 11. Morgan
  13. Chapter 12. Anna
  14. Chapter 13. Morgan
  15. Chapter 14. Anna
  16. Chapter 15. Morgan
  17. Chapter 16. Anna
  18. Chapter 17. Morgan
  19. Chapter 18. Anna
  20. Chapter 19. Morgan
  21. Chapter 20. Anna
  22. Chapter 21. Morgan
  23. Chapter 22. Anna
  24. Chapter 23. Morgan
  25. Chapter 24. Anna
  26. Chapter 25. Morgan
  27. Chapter 26. Anna
  28. Chapter 27. Morgan
  29. Chapter 28. Anna
  30. Chapter 29. Morgan
  31. Chapter 30. Anna
  32. Chapter 31. Morgan
  33. Chapter 32. Anna
  34. Chapter 33. Morgan
  35. Chapter 34. Anna
  36. Chapter 35. Morgan
  37. Chapter 36. Anna
  38. Chapter 37. Morgan
  39. Chapter 38. Anna
  40. Chapter 39. Morgan
  41. Chapter 40. Anna
  42. Chapter 41. Morgan
  43. Chapter 42. Anna
  44. Chapter 43. Morgan
  45. Chapter 44. Anna
  46. Chapter 45. Morgan
  47. Chapter 46. Anna
  48. Chapter 47. Morgan
  49. Chapter 48. Anna
  50. Chapter 49. Morgan
  51. Chapter 50. Anna
  52. Chapter 51. Morgan
  53. Chapter 52. Anna
  54. Chapter 53. Morgan
  55. Chapter 54. Anna
  56. Chapter 55. Morgan
  57. Chapter 56. Anna
  58. Chapter 57. Morgan
  59. Chapter 58. Anna
  60. Chapter 59. Morgan
  61. Chapter 60
  62. Chapter 61
  63. Chapter 62
  64. Chapter 63
  65. Chapter 64
  66. Chapter 65
  67. Chapter 66
  68. Chapter 67
  69. Epilogue: Morgan
  70. Acknowledgements

Lisa nodded. “It’s a conditional will. You can’t force someone to do something … he can’t force you to restore that mural, for example … but he can tie your doing so to his bequest. And he’s tied you and me together, for some bizarre reason known only to him, and he’s not around to explain it. I can’t open the gallery until you finish the mural and if I don’t open the gallery by August fifth, I lose the thing that’s most precious to me.”

“Wow,” I said. “That sounds … extreme. Why didn’t he at least give you more time?”

“I told you he was manipulative,” Lisa said. “I suppose he figured the more time he gave me, the more I’d dawdle. And don’t get me wrong. He’s not leaving me destitute. He left me cash—I won’t starve—but it’s the house I want.” She gave a sorrowful shake of her head. “He had faith that I’d move heaven and earth to keep it.”

“Still, it’s only a house, Lisa,” I said. “I mean, I get that it’s beautiful and everything, but if he left you some money, too, couldn’t you just buy another? You’re only one person. You don’t need this much space.”

“You don’t get it,” she snapped, the prickly, dry-eyed woman I’d come to know suddenly back. “Don’t you have strong feelings about your childhood home?”

I pressed my lips together, remembering the chaos of the house I grew up in. The shouting and fighting between my parents, while I hid out in my room. The haphazard meals, bags of cheap burgers or fried chicken tossed on the kitchen table for dinner most nights. Staying home alone and scared most of the night when I was as young as five or six because they were out drinking. Spending as much time as I could at my friends’ houses, afraid to go home to my unpredictable parents. I’d felt safer and more cared about in my friends’ homes than I had in the house where my parents lived.

I thought of the height chart in Lisa’s pantry, the handprints on the front walk, and my heart contracted with envy.

“I never really felt attached to the house I grew up in,” I said, not wanting to get into all of my crazy history with her.