“Maybe that was their plan,” Nora says. “Maybe they hoped to gain her trust or something, but that doesn’t mean Cherry knows anything about it.”
“It doesn’t explain why Micha would get killed over it, either,” Antony says.
“We have no idea if that was the reason,” Nora says.
“The timing is pretty suspicious.”
“I think he was killed over it,” Threes says. “Think about it—if Micha was digging into a long-lost child of Roland Ramsay, that’s a threat. We don’t know why they were keeping Cherry a secret or what Micha was planning to do with the information. Maybe he got close to something, the Ramsays found out, and they killed him to keep him from taking out one of their own.”
“I wouldn’t have put it past him.” Nora says. “Pops would have pushed for it, too. Getting to a Ramsay here in town would be difficult, but taking one of them out in some backwoods place in Maryland would have been easy.”
Again, I glance at Cherry. She’s clearly taking all of this in, and I wonder what she thinks about this casual conversation concerning my brother possibly orchestrating her death. Nora is right—Micha might very well have considered killing a Ramsay child if he thought he could get away with it.
“No matter what else you care to believe, that girl is a Ramsay.” Pops leans forward, staring me right in the eye. “She’s a Ramsay, and you need to deal with that.”
“We don’t know what all Micha figured out,” Antony says. “He could have left some other clues for us. What was in the file wasn’t enough.”
“Some of it doesn’t make sense, either.” Threes starts to sort through the papers on the desk again, finally pulling up Micha’s file. “Why the club receipts? Why the fuck would he have some invoice from a cheese shop in Accident?”
“It doesn’t really matter though, does it?” I ask softly.
“What doesn’t?”
“Cherry not knowing about any of this. Even if I believe her, it doesn’t make any difference. I can’t go against what Pops says.”
The room goes silent for a long moment. I look at Pops, and he looks at me. His mouth spreads into a wide grin, and he starts to chuckle as he walks toward the wall near the window, staring up at his own portrait.
“No Ramsay can ever become part of this family.” Pops crosses his arms over his chest, but the grin remains on his face. “I will not allow it.”
I close my eyes for a minute before addressing them all.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” I say. “Yeah, I’m the head of the family now, but when it comes to something like this, I have to go with Pops.”
“Pops?” Nora narrows her eyes at me.
“He’ll never accept her, Nora.” I shake my head. “I…I can’t continue a relationship with her even if she is innocent in all of this. She’s a Ramsay. Pops is right.”
“Nate, what are you talking about?” Nora stares at me, her brow furrowed. “You think Pops wouldn’t have approved of her?”
“He doesn’t approve, clearly.” I wave my hand in my father’s direction. “He’s already made up his mind, and I can’t…I can’t go against him. Not in this.”
“Nataniele?” Nora takes a step forward, extending her hand like the Virgin offering her blessing.
“Nate, dude, what are you talking about?” Antony stares at me.
“You all heard him,” I say. “We can’t let a Ramsay into the family. Whether she knew it or not is irrelevant.”
“She knew,” Pops says. “She knew all along. She played you.”
“She didn’t know, but that doesn’t matter. Pops is right though—we’ve been played, intentionally or not.” The words burn in my throat.
“Nataniele!” Nora completes the trek across the room and grabs my arm. “Pops is dead. He doesn’t get a vote in this.”
I blink a few times, wondering how in the world she could say something like that with him standing right here in the room. She doesn’t even look in his direction, and Pops doesn’t address her comment at all. When I look at him, he just grins that maniacal grin of his, and Nora shakes her head at me.
“Pops is dead, Nate. I don’t know why you’re trying to put this on him when clearly you—”
“He’s right there!” I scream, pointing. “What the fuck is wrong with all of you?”
Pops starts laughing.
“That’s…that’s his picture, Nate.” Antony moves slowly to Nora’s side. His posture is protective as he looks at me with confused, cautious eyes. “He’s been gone for months now.”
“Nataniele,” Nora whispers, “we put Pops in the ground in January. You were there. It’s why you had to step up and take over.”
“Wha--?” I can’t comprehend her words even as images flash through my head.
I’m standing over his casket as it’s lowered into the ground. No…no… It’s Micha’s casket. Must be Micha’s. Why is the tombstone for Micha already fixed in the ground, away from the grave? Must be a mistake. A handful of soil drops from my hand, covering the shiny wood surface of the casket. This isn’t Pops. It can’t be. I can’t do this by myself…
“Nate, you feeling okay?” Threes asks, but I barely hear him.
Nora is next to me, her hand on my arm. She’s talking, but I can’t hear the words.
Pops continues to laugh. It’s a cruel, hollow sound that sends a shiver from the nape of my neck all the way to the back of my heels. I open my mouth to say…something…to tell him to speak up; to tell them he’s right there and make them look at him, but he doesn’t. He just stands there, laughing.
