10. Catherine
Chapter ten
Catherine
“Alright, let’s see what I have to work with.” I take a seat at the too-old computer in the museum.
I push back the monitor and set my laptop in its place. I hook up the mouse and keyboard as it’s booting up.
The museum has internet, thank goodness. I quickly log into the various social media accounts that Ginny has been running.
Well.
More like the pages she set up and then promptly ignored.
I have a sneaking suspicion that it was actually a summer intern who created the accounts. Ginny wasn’t old by any means, but she was so busy running around with everything that needed to be done around here she didn’t spend much time on the computer.
It doesn’t take me long to realize that this is more than a case of neglect.
The museum’s pages are a mess.
Even its website is terrible. It’s one page, showing the image of the museum. Location and open hours are splashed across it in the worst yellow font I’ve ever seen.
“It might be a little out of date,” Ginny chirps behind me.
She’s a tall, muscular woman. Right now, her hair is done in milkmaid braids and she carries what appears to be an anvil in her arms.
“A bit, yeah. Do you have anything in mind for me, or do I have free reign?” I ask her.
She shrugs. “Just do what you think is best, Hon. You know more about this sort of stuff than I do.”
Okay! I crack my knuckles and get to work.
The hours pass quickly. By the time noon rides around, I’ve put up the basic information about the museum on the website.
“What sort of upcoming events do you have?” I ask Ginny while we eat.
Ginny wrinkles her nose. “Oh, let’s see. We’re coming up to the fiftieth anniversary of the museum opening, so I was thinking about having an event where I put up all sorts of facts about what was happening in the town that year.”
“Fifty years is impressive,” I say. “Why don’t I help you with getting the museum ready, and we can make an event out of it? We can have donuts and coffee.”
“That sounds like a lot of work.” Ginny gives me a reluctant look. “And people don’t usually come to these events.”
I grin at her. “Which is why you have me. Social media manager. I’ll make some mockups to get the word out. And if you approve of it, I’ll arrange everything else. Food, drinks, everything.”
Ginny thinks for a moment then nods. “Oh, alright. If you’re sure it’s not too much work.”
“Trust me. This will be awesome .”
The day passes quickly. I dig through the archives for any information about the town fifty years ago that seems interesting.
Funnily enough, Sandburrow got its first skating park the same year the museum opened.
It’s great to have so much to do. Sandburrow’s dreamy pace can easily be boring in contrast to the glitz and fast pace of the job I’m used to.
But I’m finding that just because the town is small doesn’t mean there’s nothing to do.
There’s always work to be done, you just have to find it.
I’m so glad that George put me in the museum. It’s refreshing to have a completely different sort of work to do.
Oh, I’m not sure how well I can do here in the long run.
But it’s certainly not as boring and frustrating as I had first feared.
It’s akin to having something to build, rather than fires to put out.
When I’m working with Crimson, I always have to deal with the hate. Sure, there’s a lot of love too, but you don’t get popular without getting hate, too.
Some of it is just so senseless. Tiny people who just want to scream at anyone who enjoys something they don’t like.
There’s probably a similar energy somewhere here in Sandburrow.
I feel like it’s going to be more muted, though.
Regardless, as I keep working through the day, I’m pleased with the progress I make. I learn a few fascinating things about Sandburrow, such as when Al Capone tried to use it as a stop point in his smuggling.
Apparently, a herd of goats kept drinking his booze, so he had to move out.
The day flies by. When Ginny tells me it’s time that I head out, I turn off my computer and pack up.
“I’ll be in tomorrow,” I promise. “I feel like we’ve gotten a good start on things.”
Ginny gives me a tentative smile. “I really appreciate it. I don’t understand all that stuff.”
“I’m glad to help,” I answer genuinely.
I call Grandma when I’m in my car to see if she needs me to pick anything up.
She doesn’t answer. Hmmm. She must be outside.
I decide to grab a few of the things we’re low on and then head back to Grandma’s house.
As I’m driving, I call George.
“Hello, fiancé,” I tease when he answers. The Bluetooth in my car crackles. “How was your day at work?”
“Rough,” he answers, sounding frustrated. “One of my new hires managed to nail himself to a cross beam. I spent the afternoon filling out reports.”
“Ouch! How did he do that?”
“I was giving him safety training, and he said that he knew how to use a nail gun. Picked it up, I told him to put it down, and the next thing I know, he’s screaming, and his hand is nailed clean though.”
I grimace, a tingle in the center of my palm. “Is he going to be okay?”
“Yeah. Doctors say it was a clean injury, thank God.” George sighs in a rush of static. “I hope he’s learned a lesson from this. I’m not putting another power tool in his hands until he goes through very rigorous training.”
The ‘conspiracy’ part of my brain wonders if this new hire did it on purpose.
“Is it going to hurt your company?”
“Nah. We have cameras and there’s witnesses.”
“That’s good.” I push the thought from my head. “Will you be joining Grandma and me for supper?”
“Sure thing. I’m headed out to Lynn’s right now. I should be there in forty minutes.”
I grin. “See you at home, then.”
We hang up.
And it’s only at that moment that I realize what I said.
Home.
This isn’t home, is it?
Actually… it is. Maybe not Sandburrow, but Grandma is ‘home.’ More so than any random place I’ve lived.
My high spirits are dashed low as soon as I get to the house.
“I’m home,” I call when I enter.
Nobody answers.
I frown. “Grandma?”
There’s a shuffling noise from upstairs. I head up, the stairs creaking beneath me. When I emerge to the top floor, I find Grandma, huffing as she shoves a mattress into the spare room.
“What are you doing?” I start.
Even as I speak, a head pokes around the doorframe. The same brown eyes I have peer out at me from a much younger face.
I stop dead. “Katherina?”
“Come help me with this,” Grandma orders, waving me over.
Numb, I jump into action. I help them heave the mattress into the room, where we maneuver it onto an ancient bedframe.
There’s a duffle bag sitting just under the foot of the bed.
“What are you doing here?” I ask my half-sister—my replacement. My tone speaks volumes.
Katherina winces as she shoves her light hair from her face. “The same thing you’re doing here. Mom. ”
Despite myself, concern rushes through me. “Did Mom drop you off here?”
“Nope, I took the bus. She wouldn’t even know I was gone except Grandma called her.” Katherina folds her arms and gives me the sort of look only a sixteen-year-old girl can. “I couldn’t stand being there with her anymore. Not until Crimson kicks her to the curb.”
I rub my forehead. “Is Mom coming to get her?” I ask Grandma.
“I won’t go if she does.”
Grandma shakes her head. “June’s decided to give it a few days to let everyone cool down—”
“What’s that?” Katherina pointed at my hand—specifically my left. Her jaw drops. “Are you engaged?”
Heat floods my cheeks.
Oh, shoot!
This has just gotten far more complicated.
Telling Grandma the truth is one thing.
The half-sister I barely know?
Nope, she’s got to have the full lie.
Only… how are George and I going to pull this off?
“Uh, yeah,” I stammer. “I’m engaged. George. You know George? Well, George and I were having dinner, and he hid the ring in, uh, one of the dishes.”
“You two go downstairs and let me make up this bed,” Grandma says, waving us off.
I grab the sheets. The last thing I want is to talk with Katherina right now. “I’ll make up the bed. You go sit down?”
Katherina looked between us. A knowing expression crosses her face, followed by disappointment.
Disappointment I know too well.
She knows that I don’t want her here.
“I invited George to supper,” I say quickly. “But with Katherina here, I’m not sure we’re going to have enough. Let me finish taking care of things here, Grandma, then I’ll get going on supper. You look like you’ve been working hard.”
“Fine, fine.” Grandma gives me a hard look. “Kitty, you stay and help your sister, okay?”
We both wince at being referred to as sisters.
The tension doesn’t ease when Grandma leaves.
“Right. Well.” I let out a heavy sigh. “How’s school going?”
Katherina shrugs. “Fine.”
And that was all we had to say to one another.
Perfect.
Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any more complicated.