Page 7 of Deadly Sins: Envy

He shifted in his seat, which told me there was something he wanted to say but didn’t. I pushed harder.

“Coop? What aren’t you telling me?”

He looked out the window. “Suppose if you’re here, you’ll find out soon enough.”

“Find out what?” I asked.

“My family name wasn’t always Cooper.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our surname used to be Cooperwaite.”

“When did it change?”

“In 1867.”

“Why?” I asked.

“I’m a direct descendant of Robert Cooperwaite. He owned one of the largest plantations in Louisiana. When he died, it was inherited by his son William. Robert assumed William would continue running it as he had, but William had other ideas. He’d grown up around the workers on the plantation and their children. He loved them like they were his own family, and it pained him to see them abused and mistreated by his father’s own hand.”

“What did William do with the plantation after his father died?”

“He planned to sell it. At the time, he was engaged to a woman named Laura. She believed if William sold the property, the new owner may have been as cruel as William’s father had been, or even worse. Although slavery had just been abolished, many landowners continued on as if nothing had changed.”

“How could they?”

“It was a different time then. Some landowners refused to accept the change at first.”

“What did William do?”

“William and Laura called a meeting for all of the workers in their care. They asked what they could do to fulfill their needs and announced the construction of ninety-eight additional cabins, so each family had a home of their own. They also began paying them for their work. A good farmhand earned twenty dollars per month in those days, which included lodging. William paid thirty. Two years later, in an effort to shed the family’s tainted past, he shortened our surname to Cooper. Under his care, the plantation thrived, becoming one of the most profitable in the state.”

“Sounds like he was an amazing man,” I said.

“He was a smart man who had an even smarter wife.”

It was the first time I’d heard Coop speak of a woman with such fond regard.

“What happened to the plantation?”

“It’s still in the family. My brother and his wife oversee it. We still grow sugar cane, but the house has been turned into a tourist site with daily tours, a restaurant, and a gift shop.”

I was shocked.

Coop had always come across as somewhat of a tightwad.

Then again, many smart, rich people were just that.

Coop glanced at me and raised a brow. “What? You think because I work for a living, own a townhouse, and drive an old clunker around Park City, I can’t afford to live a better life?”

“I mean, I didn’t say—”

“I have my weaknesses, just like you.”

“You ... weaknesses? I can’t believe you admitted it.”

“I collect stamps.”