After confirming to myself that mother wasn't hiding somewhere in the house, I went out to the barn. It only took a minute to conclude that she wasn't...there either. There was really only one other place that she would possibly be.Our farm was 160 acres, made up of two adjacent 80 acre parcels, one parcel from each of my grandparents. It was their wedding gifts to my mother and father. Of the acreage, 120 acres were flat and tillable; there was about twenty acres of timber that could be. She told me about the bank repossession and their off lease cars. They sold them after only two years use by the bank executive. They were sold early to get the maximum return on their investment. According to her there were some good deals. All I had to do was drive down, bid on one, and get it home.I convinced The Brit to wake up early and ride down with me to the bank auction. It was actually held once a month and ten banks participated in it. They let the buyer begin kicking the tires at. Oh. I didn't mention that? I married Roger's sister, Laura. She was not at all the studious and boring CPA I expected, but a vibrant and exciting woman - just like her Mom. I didn't ask her out when we had that family cook-out, but I wanted to.I waited until I could talk to Mary. Laying in bed together, I broached the subject. I expected Mary to be opposed to the idea of my dating her daughter, but she was delighted. She admitted that the whole joint family cook-out was hatched by Mom and Mary. People have tortured me all my life. My own sister put a baby inside me and sent me to prison. You, on the other hand, fuck your prisoners. I’m the victim. You are not. Don’t forget that.” She pointed menacingly as if Ellen was the one that sentenced her.“You’re still claiming to be a victim of incest. Goodnight, Miss Masters.” Ellen dismissed her charge’s japes and left without another word.15 YEARS AGO. Diana Masters hustled down the crowded strip of sidewalk; her short arms wrapped carefully.
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