Chapter 9
Nora
Elias’s parents are just too cute. It’s almost hard to imagine two of the most cheerful, funny people I’ve ever met gave life to the grumpy lumberjack.
Maybe he has his reasons.
I shove that thought away, because I know it’s true and I don’t want to address it right now, as I follow Rudy into Grandma’s cottage.
Elias’s father is tall, broad, and handsome for his age.
His beard is trimmed short and both it and his hair are sprinkled with gray.
Rudy has weathered lines around his eyes, mouth, and on his forehead from what appears to be decades worth of grinning.
Again, how did he father that crabapple next door?
“This place has great bones,” Rudy says as he carefully skims his gaze over every available beam and floorboard in Grandma’s living room. “Was well cared for over the years. Just took a little turn for the worse in the last few. Nothing that can’t be fixed.”
I nod, arms crossed over my chest, willing myself not to cry.
This whole time, Grandma was living next door with Elias.
Why didn’t she say anything? Mom would have moved her in with her in a New York second.
Pun intended. And, yet, Grandma said nothing.
Always put on a cheerful face when on call or while visiting.
“Now, I know Maggie will have her bit to say about selling this place,” Rudy continues as he makes his way to the kitchen, “but we need to get it spruced up before we start putting makeup on her. Know what I mean?”
“You thinking we need to remodel the kitchen?” I ask as I take in the kitchen that held so many summer memories for me.
Rudy scoffs. “And lose the coastal cottage charm thing she had going on here? Nah. Rather than a whole face lift, we’re going to nip and tuck here and there.
Repaint, replace some hardware, maybe get some new windows in.
Nothing too crazy. The vibes of this place are what’s going to sell it in a snap. ”
I try to imagine someone else living here and my stomach twists. It’s not a great image.
“So,” I say with a staggering breath. “When can you start?”
He chuckles, deep, warm, and vibrating. It makes me wonder if his son has the same beautiful laugh. We wouldn’t know because Elias doesn’t do that sort of thing, but it’s fun to ponder what it would sound like.
“I’m a bit stacked this week,” Rudy says as we retreat to the back of the house.
“But that’s okay. You have your work cut out for you before I can do my part.
” He looks over his shoulder at me as he stops in front of Grandma’s bedroom.
“You’re going to need to go through her things and get this place cleaned up. ”
The last thing I want to do is go through all of Grandma’s belongings. It feels intrusive. Maybe she wouldn’t like for me to pick through her things and uncover her carefully hidden secrets.
Rudy goes into her room, but I remain rooted in the hallway, fretting about going through her belongings. He returns a moment later, pity in his brown eyes.
“Yeah,” I say quickly, unable to hold his gaze. “Sure. I’ll get to it. I wonder if I can hire someone to do it.”
I don’t wait for his disapproving expression that’ll look too much like Elias’s, and scurry back toward the front door.
It’s like an oven in her house and I’m already drenched in sweat from being here only a few minutes.
Before I can make my escape, a massive form fills the doorway, and I nearly plow into it.
I manage to stumble off to the side instead.
Elias narrows his eyes at me, lips in a tight, straight line. His mother sidesteps him and then gushes over how cute the place is. She must be insane because it’s a mess. A literal hot mess.
“I was just telling your friend here,” Rudy says to his son.
“She’s not my friend,” Elias blurts out at the same time I mutter, “We’re not friends.”
Maggie chuckles as if this is the funniest thing she’s heard all day. “Oh, don’t be silly.”
Before either one of us can argue, Rudy continues on. “The place needs to be gone through and cleaned up which coincidentally will line up with a pocket of free time for me to do some work. Between the two of us, Son, we can get it knocked out in a couple of weeks or so.”
“By end of summer we can put a sign in the yard?” Maggie asks, excitement threaded in her words.
“It’ll be sold by September,” Rudy says, equally thrilled.
My stomach ties itself into a huge knot. The plan was to come back, deal with Grandma’s things, and sell the house. But now that I’m here and discussing all the plans, it feels all too real. I have the sudden urge to kick everyone out and live out the rest of my days in this hot, hoarder house.
Because Grandma would love that.
I suck in the stifling, dusty heat into my lungs, and then practically sprint out of the cottage and onto the porch. Her swing sits untouched for who knows how long. With a heavy sigh, I fall onto the ancient thing and pray the chains hold my weight.
Breathe.
Everything is going to be okay.
I just miss her so much. I wish she were here to tell me what to do.
Grandma was a take-charge kind of woman.
She never sat around idly. If something needed to be fixed, she was first in line to do it.
A dragonfly buzzes past me, does acrobats around the wooden columns of the porch, and then lands on my bare knee.
The sunlight catches its iridescent wings, and it sparkles.
How long has it been since I stayed still long enough to admire a dragonfly?
Heavy footsteps thud onto the wood porch, and it frightens the insect away. I watch it zoom off the porch and dive-bomb a hydrangea bush.
“Do you know someone I could hire to help me clean this place out?” I ask Elias, not meeting his gaze. “It’s a lot of work.”
Elias leans his butt against the outer wood railing of the porch, and it groans in protest. Awfully brave to do on this rickety old house. He scratches at his beard and then lets loose a long, labored sigh. “I can do it.”
“Won’t you be helping your dad with the repairs? And what about your job?”
He runs a large, calloused thumb along the edge of the wood and bits of paint fleck off. “I’m not working at the moment. Bereavement leave.”
His words are another sucker punch to the chest. It’s a reminder that no matter how much he dislikes me, he loved my grandma. My throat thickens with emotion, and I blink back the tears.
“Then this won’t be easy for you,” I say, voice wobbly. “I can find someone else.”
He huffs. “It won’t be any easier for you. Besides, Goldie would tan my hide if she were to find out I let some stranger poke around through her things. She’d want it this way. Trust me.”
It hurts that he knows my family more than I do. The guilt swells up inside me, threatening to swallow me whole. No matter what I do, I won’t be able to escape that I wasn’t there for her in the end.
“You don’t even like me.” I pick at the frayed ends of my shorts before shooting Elias a pitiful look. “We’re not friends, remember?”
He’s quiet for so long, I want to crawl out of my skin. Everything about this man is in slow motion. Like a sloth. I feel like a nervous hare ready to bolt at any second. Right as I’m about to spring to my feet and do just that to avoid the awkward silence, Elias chooses to speak again.
“We’re not,” he agrees, shaking his head. “Doesn’t mean it won’t happen one day, though. I barely know you, Nora. Goldie spoke highly of you, but I haven’t had time to form opinions for myself.”
That’s a lie.
He’s already formed the opinion that I’m a monster.
But rather than give him fodder for a fight, I nod.
“I’m going to go check on Clo,” I say as I rise to my feet. “Tell your dad we’re good to go and I’ll text your mom about any listing information.”
I bolt before he can formulate an answer.
It’s what I’m good at.
Running.
My phone buzzes for the umpteenth time, rattling the nightstand beside my head. I’ve spent most of the day in bed feeling sorry for myself. Even Clo didn’t want to be around me. The life I belong to back in New York, though, won’t leave me alone.
I snatch my phone off the charger and squint to see who’s bothering me this time. There are many missed texts, but a few stand out more than others.
Kayla: Send proof of life. Here’s mine!
It’s a selfie of her holding her iced coffee in front of our favorite spot. My chest aches. I miss her.
Mom: I sent you some money in case you need it for dealing with your grandma’s affairs. I can come down there if it gets overwhelming, but things are busy at the office since I already took off for the funeral. Ron’s clients are helpless without me to baby them. You know how they are.
Another wave of guilt assaults me. She handled the funeral service and burial without me. Surely, I can handle the house.
Denver: You’ve been a ghost since you flew out of here. I’m juggling my schedule to see if I can break for a couple of days to come be with you.
This time, a wave of disgust ripples through me. Not at myself for once. Right now, I reminded of how unhappy I am with my boyfriend. We really do need a break.
On paper, Denver is great. Owns his own company, good looking enough to be on California swimwear ads, and has a pearly smile that seals every deal. I’m sure I’m the token accessory in his perfect world. I’ve been an agreeable, gracious, content girlfriend who wanted to help his company succeed.
Now, I’m not so sure.
Denver never created fire inside me. We just sort of fit once introduced by mutual friends of ours.
When things were going well, I had no reason to question it.
But, after choosing to help him over my grandma’s funeral, the resentment that I have growing toward him feels enormous.
Like a massive mountain I’ll never be able to climb over.
Where does that leave us?
I’m not sure I have the mental capacity to deal with it at the moment. I might say something I regret later. Once I leave Budgie Bay and head back to the city, I’ll likely let some of this resentment go. Surely.
Until then, I shoot all three of them a generic, similar variation text of “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. See you soon.”
A soft knock on my door forces me to sit up. I pull Grandma’s robe on and pad my bare feet over to the door.
“Oh, hey,” I croak out when I see Elias standing on the other side. Clo sits on his shoulder. “Hey, Clo.”
He chirps and then flies past me to sit on top of his cage. “Just put a lasagna in the oven. Can you check on it in about forty minutes? I need to run to my sister’s right quick. She’s going to give my hair and beard a trim. If I don’t do it now, I’ll never hear the end of it from Mom.”
“Yeah, sure.”
He’s gone in the next instant. My heart warms at how close he is with his family. I’d always wanted a big, chaotic family, but never had it. I’m a third generation of “only child” women in my family. Kind of lonely when you don’t have siblings.
While I wait on the lasagna, I make my way over to Grandma’s little desk and sit in front of her laptop.
I’ve been curious to take a peek but haven’t had the nerve to look until now.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I flip it open and am met with a password screen.
Because she was old and didn’t understand the necessity for security, her password is taped to the laptop right above the keyboard.
budgiemom1978
My lips curve into a small smile as I type it in.
Then, I’m granted entry to her computer.
It’s still open to an online solitaire game.
The game has a timer on it and it’s going on two weeks since she last played it.
Grief floods my chest and I shakily minimize the game screen.
Her desktop is a picture of her and Grandpa Amos when they were young, probably in their twenties or early thirties.
They’re grinning at each other as they sit on a dock, Budgie Bay in the background.
I never knew Grandpa Amos, but I know the look he’s giving her in the picture. It’s pure, unfiltered, unapologetic love and adoration for the woman he’s smiling at. She stares at him as if he hangs the moon.
Denver’s never looked at me that way. With affection and, at times, intense attraction, but never so obsessed.
As far as me?
I certainly don’t think he hangs the moon.
Shoving away those unhelpful thoughts, I scan her desktop to see if there’s anything I should take a peek at. The folders are all over the place, not at all arranged neatly, but I find the one I’m looking for quickly enough.
My Writing.
Once inside that folder, I find a million more, all separated by various years or purpose. There are many titled “Amos” and “Budgie Rescue” and even “My Girls,” but I stick to a safer topic: Budgie Bay Gazette.
The first article is called “Home to Me” where she discusses moving to Budgie Bay at just twenty-four, her accommodations when she arrived, favorite restaurants and things to do, and finding both love and friendship. She was sad and alone but determined to make her deceased parents proud.
Somehow, with the deck stacked against her, she found happiness.
I’ll find mine too.