Chapter Twenty-Three
The next day, I’m off, and I’ve never needed a mental break more. I wake up after my mom has already gone to work, but she texts me a link to a story in The New York Times . It’s not one of their feature articles, but it’s still a write-up on this small town in Minnesota and the efforts being made to revitalize the town’s nursing home.
“Holy shit.” I scroll through the article.
It talks about the website that will be going live at seven in the evening and how to donate online. Equity and keeping the costs for nursing home residents down are the main focus. My mom is highlighted, and it mentions how important this place is to her because her own mom was once here. Why didn’t my mom tell me she was interviewed for this article?
The New York Times. How did this happen?
My phone rings, and I jump to answer it.
“Mom, what is going on?”
She laughs into the phone. “Liam is apparently a miracle worker. Who knew?”
“How did he get this story in The New York Times ? I’m so confused.”
“His cousin’s wife Jenna Abrams is a writer. She agreed to do a piece on us, and the Times picked it up.”
Jenna Abrams. I know that name. And then it occurs to me—she wrote a piece on domestic abuse that went viral a couple of years back. Wait. I think I saw her at Asher’s second birthday party, even though I never got the opportunity to meet her. That’s who’s married to Liam’s cousin Robby.
“Do you think this will help?”
“It won’t hurt,” she says. “I’ve got to run, but I invited Liam over for when the website goes live. We’ll order food, but maybe pick up the house a bit.”
She hangs up before I can respond. I laugh. Wheaton just got put on the map by a paper with one of the largest circulations. I have so many questions. I read the article for the fifth time. It states that donations will be accepted via the website beginning at seven, and one hundred percent of the proceeds will go to hiring and retaining staff, fixing up the building, and providing affordable care for the many residents.
It’s like a GoFundMe for a corporation. I didn’t realize these things existed.
It’s hard for me to trust people and I wasn’t sure if Liam would be able to help, but if this works, it’s a great first step in raising funds. I spend my day running errands, picking up food and wine, and then going back to the house and tidying up.
This big, old house has so much potential. If only my mom and I were home long enough to give it the love it deserves.
“Birdie, are you home?” my mom yells from downstairs as I step out of the shower.
“I’ll be down in a minute.”
I throw on a tank top and cutoff shorts and brush out my long hair. This will have to do. I take two stairs at a time, and my mom is unloading takeout on the kitchen island.
“There you are.” She grabs a bottle of champagne from the fridge and opens it. “Liam should be here any minute. I told him the food would be arriving by six.”
“You have so much to fill me in on.” I hold out my glass, and my mom fills it to the brim. “The new website launches at seven, and then what happens?”
There’s a knock at the door, and I go to open it. Liam stands there with his own bottle of wine in hand, and I wave him in.
“I have so many questions,” I say, and he looks at me over his shoulder and winks.
“Do you really think people are going to donate money through the website?” My mom hands Liam a glass of champagne.
“And your cousin’s wife has that much clout to be able to get an article in The New York Times ?”
Liam takes a long sip of his drink and laughs.
“One thing at a time,” Liam says. “Tonight could be anticlimactic, or it could blow our minds. But my gi—”
He stops talking and takes a deep breath. “I have a friend in New York who does corporate fundraising for a living. She has been calling large businesses and personal donors who focus on the nursing home space. She said the conversations went extremely well.”
“But is there a possibility that no one will donate?” I pull my bottom lip into my mouth.
Liam shrugs. “Of course. But I also sent the news story to the largest Minnesota publication, as well as to the Dakotas. The hope is that it will get published, and that people will share our goals widely.”
My mom refills our almost-empty glasses.
“But if tonight is slow, that’s okay too,” Liam says. “This is only the first step in our plan to turn the nursing home around.”
My mom looks at her watch. “It’s almost seven. Should we hook your laptop into the TV and watch?”
Liam grabs his computer, and I take another bottle of wine out of the fridge, and the three of us move to the living room. He sets up the computer, and we watch the countdown for the website to go live.
“Who built the site?” I narrow my eyes and study Liam.
He looks like I imagine he did when he was younger. His hair is tousled, and he smiles at the screen as he presses buttons, carefree and happy.
“Computer Science was my minor,” he says, glancing at me.
At seven, Liam begins pushing buttons on his laptop, and then the display shows up on the TV: Traverse County Tranquil Waters Nursing Home.
“What?” I look at my mom, and then at Liam. “You renamed it?”
“We did.” My mom nods. “We’ll rebrand all of the brochures and change the signage on the building.”
“It’s Sunny and the men having coffee.” I hold my hand over my heart as the photo displays on the site.
Liam smiles. “Don’t worry, they signed off on all the privacy elements.”
My mouth hangs open as I study the page. It looks beautiful in its white and blue hues. Liam presses more buttons, and on the front page, fundraising information appears.
“Anything donated will be directly deposited into the nursing home’s account,” he says.
“Will this stay open?” I move to the couch and sit between my mom and Liam. “So anyone could come out here at any time and throw money our way?”
“Yes,” Liam says. “But we need momentum tonight, so I’m really hoping people donate.”
We stare at the screen, and I slowly hold a glass up to my lips and swallow the sweet champagne. The dollar amount received remains at zero, and you could hear a pin drop in the house as we all sit still.
Five hundred dollars appear, and my mom gasps and Liam grabs my arm. Two minutes later, the total is up to two thousand.
“Oh my God.” I cover my mouth with my hand. “People are donating.”
“We’re going to need more wine,” my mom says, jumping up and going to the kitchen. I’ve never seen her have more than one glass in an evening. She must be overwhelmed by all of this.
“Holy shit.” Liam moves closer to me and rests his arm over the couch. “It’s up to twenty thousand, and it’s only 7:15.”
The three of us sit quietly, sipping our champagne as the amount continues to climb. Liam’s thigh presses against mine, heavy with warmth.
“This is unbelievable.” My mom’s voice cuts through the silence, and she looks toward Liam. “I’m not sure whether to laugh, cry, or wrap my arms around you.”
“I had no idea that random people who have no ties to this town would be so generous,” I say.
“You’d be surprised.” Liam slings his arm around me. “People are passionate about their causes, and the article pulled at their heartstrings. They trust that their money will be put to good use. This isn’t a novel idea. Care centers all over the country do this. Corporations like Midwest Care don’t focus on the patients.”
We’ve been like this for three hours and have gone through several bottles of wine, too stunned to speak. It’s ten in the evening, and the amount continues to climb. My mind is fuzzy, but all I can think about is what we could do with this money. The updates we’d be able to make, the staff my mom would be able to hire, and the programming the residents would have.
“I could watch this all night.” My mom grabs my knee and pushes off the couch. “But my hangover has already set in, and I work in the morning.”
She turns to me, smiles, and points. My mom trips and grabs the edge of the couch. For the first time in my entire life, I witness her being tipsy. “You kids stay up and have fun. You don’t work tomorrow, Birdie.”
She exaggerates a yawn. “I’m going to sleep so heavily. Have a good night.”
She glances over her shoulder before leaving the room. “No driving home tonight for you, Liam.”
“Goodnight, June,” Liam says, and gets up.
When he comes back, he shuts off the main living room light.
“God.” He covers his smile with his hand. “I’m pretty sure your mom just tried to ship us together.”
“That was actually mortifying.”
Liam laughs and collapses onto the couch. We lean back and stare at the screen. It almost puts me in a trance. The number continues to climb, and none of it makes sense to me. People are giving us money.
Liam tilts his head toward me, and I do the same. The room is dark except for the blue glow of the TV screen, and his face is illuminated. He opens his mouth slightly and narrows his eyes. He slowly inches closer to me until I can feel his breath on me.
“Liam.” I press my hand against his chest. “You can’t look at me like that.”
He sighs and presses his head into the couch. “I haven’t forgotten. You don’t want to date me.”
“You don’t want to date me either.” I press my head back against the couch.
Liam runs his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip. “I don’t?”
“You definitely don’t.” I close my eyes, and the room spins.
Liam leans back on the couch, his gaze locking onto me with a mix of adoration and quiet resignation. His lips press together, a subtle tension held in place, while the corners turn up just enough to hint at a smile.
“Oh, Birdie.”
“Trust me. I know you don’t usually have to work hard for things.”
I press my teeth into my bottom lip and try to suppress all the thoughts spinning in my head. My eyes linger on him for a moment too long, and I shake the thoughts away.
“Well,” Liam says. “You heard your mom. I can’t drive.”
“This couch will be perfect for you.” I slap my hand down.
“You want me to stay down here, alone, in a haunted house?” Liam stuffs his fist into his hand as he looks around.
“Are you seriously scared?”
Liam looks at me. “A little, yeah.”
“Fine.” I stand, grab his hands, and pull him up. “You can come upstairs with me. But there will be no looking at me with those eyes. You know the look. Actually, I’ll bring blankets up and get you comfortable on the floor. That would be the best place for you.”
Liam laughs. I grab a handful of blankets from a basket in the corner, and we tiptoe upstairs. I quietly close the door behind me and flick on the light.
“Provincial garden,” he says, looking around.
He remembers the color of paint I chose.
“The ensuite bathroom is there,” I say, pointing. “I’ll grab you a new toothbrush.”
I throw a couple of pillows on the floor before deciding that my bed is massive and I only take up a sliver of it, and I don’t want his back to hurt tomorrow. I pull down the blankets and start making a barrier down the middle with a few of my throw pillows.
“Birdie,” he says, glancing at me, and then at the bed. “I’m fine on the floor.”
“My bed is huge. You stay in your corner, and I’ll stay in mine.”
The barrier is for me. I don’t trust myself around him.
I grab my pajamas and slip inside the bathroom to change. Liam is out of my league, and he knows it. He must be suffering from proximity bias. It’s the only explanation. I pinch my cheeks and watch them come to life with color.
I come out of the bathroom, and Liam is already in bed, with the cover up to his mid-torso. He watches me walk toward the bed, his elbow propping him up. He stares at me. Goosebumps travel up my arms.
“Quit looking at me,” I say.
“You’re impossible.” Liam covers his eyes with his hands. “I’m not sure where you want me to look.”
I shut off the lamp and lie down. “This corporate fundraiser you know. Is that the woman you were dating before you left?”
The bed shifts underneath me. “Yes. Olivia.”
“Olivia.” I say her name slowly and imagine what she must be like. A picture of a tall, beautiful woman comes to mind. “You guys still talk, huh?”
“We just started talking again recently.” Liam reaches his hand over the pillow and messes up my hair, and I swat him.
“No touching.”
“Sorry,” Liam says. “She’s good at what she does. Really good, clearly.”
“Do you think you guys will get back together when you’re back in New York?” I move onto my back and tuck my hands underneath my head.
“Birdie.” Liam’s voice is quiet.
“What?”
“Do you want to cuddle?”
“No.” I grab one of the pillows acting as a barrier and hit him gently on the head. “You’re impossible. Goodnight.”
Liam laughs. “Okay. Goodnight. Don’t snore.”
“You don’t snore.” I turn on my side and fall asleep within seconds.