Chapter 9 - The Court of Public Opinion
By seven o'clock that evening, our living room looked like a war council.
Camille had made a massive pot of chamomile tea that nobody was drinking. Levi was pacing the hardwood floor like a caged panther, his phone buzzing continuously on the coffee table.
Every branch of the Vance family tree had mobilized.
*From Aunt Clara:*
"Levi, I have never been more horrified in all my years. You broke your mother's heart in front of her dearest friends. You need to march Joanna back over to Marlene's house tonight and apologize on your knees."
*From Cousin Greg:*
"Bro, what the hell was that? Mom called crying hysterically. It's just a damn name. Why do you have to let your wife disrespect Uncle Ben's memory like that?"
*From Church Elder Mrs. Higgins:*
"Joanna, Scripture speaks clearly on honoring your mother and father. Marlene has loved you like a daughter. Pride goes before destruction. Praying for your hardened heart."
"Turn it off, Levi," I said quietly from the sofa, pulling a knitted throw over my swollen feet. "Just shut the phone off."
"No," Levi growled, staring at the screen. "Look at this. Look what she just posted on Facebook."
He turned the screen toward me.
Marlene had posted a photo of the embroidered cashmere blanket—draped artfully over the empty mahogany box—with a black-and-white filter.
The caption read:
*"Some hearts are too wounded to receive love. When we try to honor the dead, the living sometimes choose cruelty instead. Praying for my son, my unborn grandson, and the peace of our family during this painful trial. Benjamin Arthur Vance, you are loved already, even if some refuse to speak your name."*
Within twenty minutes, it had eighty-four comments.
*“Stay strong, Marlene.”*
*“Ungrateful daughters-in-law are a plague.”*
*“God will vindicate you, sweet friend.”*
"She's weaponizing the entire town against us," Camille said, staring at her own phone with disgust. "She's painting you as an abusive, out-of-control monster who robbed a widow of her husband's legacy."
"It's not about legacy," Levi said, stopping dead in the center of the room. His eyes were wide, a strange, hollow realization washing over his face.
"What do you mean?" I asked, looking up at him.
May you like
"She didn't even love my dad like that," Levi whispered, running both hands through his hair. "They slept in separate bedrooms for the last ten years of his life. Before he died, Dad told me he was miserable. This isn't about Dad. It was never about Dad."
***
