Chapter 158

Gurgle, gurgle— The lard bubbled merrily in the pot as Mary Stone deftly skimmed off the foam. Carefully, she ladled the rendered fat into an earthen jar, then picked up a gleaming bottle of golden rapeseed oil, tilting it in the sunlight.

"Well now, Mary, that oil looks mighty fresh!" Patricia Stone, their neighbor, called out from behind the fence, her sharp eyes catching the glint.

Mary's lips curled with pride. "Sure is! Emily gave it to us. That girl may be quiet, but she’s always thinking of us old folks!"

"Emily Johnson?" Patricia's eyes widened. "Didn’t they just split from the family? Where’d she get so much oil?"

Mary deliberately raised the bottle higher. "Michael invited us over for meat today, and before we left, he insisted we take this. Oh, you should’ve seen the braised pork—so tender it fell apart at the touch of a chopstick..."

A few passing wives overheard and gathered around. The golden oil shimmered in the glass bottle, making their eyes gleam with envy.

"How much does that cost per pound?"

"Does Emily have any left?"

"My husband hasn’t tasted anything this rich in half a year..."

Mary basked in their eager questions. "I don’t know the price, but Emily said we could come back for more when we run out." With that, she swung her basket over her arm and hummed a tune as she walked home, leaving a trail of longing sighs behind her.

The news spread like wildfire, reaching Patricia’s ears in no time.

"William!" She yanked her husband back as he tried to leave. "Your brother’s family feasted on meat and didn’t even invite us! Do they even respect their elders?"

William swallowed hard. "After how things went down during the split, you really wanna show up uninvited?"

"I don’t care!" Patricia planted her hands on her hips. "Look at little Jack—skinny as a twig! Can you, as his uncle, just stand by?" Her eyes narrowed craftily. "Why don’t you... go borrow some meat? Doesn’t Michael hunt?"

William’s temper flared. He stormed off to his eldest brother’s house instead. Inside, he found Robert Stone planing wood, sawdust flying everywhere.

"Robert! Michael’s living high now—feasting on meat and leaving us out!" He embellished the story. "He even gave Ma and Pa a whole bottle of rapeseed oil!"

Robert’s plane hesitated. He remembered seeing David and Tommy yesterday—their round cheeks and brand-new coats, a stark contrast to his own sallow, thin children.

"I... I’m going to the hills." Robert suddenly set down his tools and grabbed the hatchet by the wall.

Inside, Elizabeth Stone pricked up her ears as she mended clothes. The needle darted through the rough fabric, her gaze lingering on her children’s threadbare sleeves. With a sharp tug, she bit off the thread.