Chapter 8 #2
“Why did my mama hate you so much?” I ask.
She looks up from her bowl. “That’s a very long story, and you’re a mess, and I’m starving, so maybe it can wait?”
I point at her. “Okay, but you have to tell me. I deserve to know. I promised her I would never come back here, and you made me break that promise.”
“Your mom broke promises, too,” she grumbles between bites. “And I didn’t make you come here. Like I said, I didn’t even know you existed before today. But yes, fine, I’ll tell you. Later.”
“I’ll be in the shower. Don’t die.”
She looks up, pellet chunks clinging to her beak. “Once is enough, sugar.”
I grab a pair of comfy pajamas and fuzzy socks from my overnight bag and head into the bathroom.
The water takes a while to get hot, and the pipes sing and thump, but soon my hair is full of Maggie’s expensive shampoo and I no longer smell like pond scum.
It’s been possibly the longest and strangest day of my life, and I can’t wait to tell my sisters all about it.
Once I’m dressed with my hair twisted up in a towel, I find my grandmother in the main room, chasing a ladybug up the window glass.
“You ever been compelled by something you don’t really care to do?” she asks, beak scraping the glass in vain.
“Yeah, that’s pretty much the story of my life.”
She gives me a sharp look and goes back to the ladybug without comment.
I pick out the comfiest-looking place in the room, the squishy couch, and sink down into the cushions with my book and my phone.
I tell myself that after this call, I’m going to find the greasiest takeout food in this town and stuff myself, because half a grilled cheese is not enough to keep me going.
“Do we have Wi-Fi here?” I ask.
“What’s that?” is all the answer I need.
My phone has signal, at least, so I FaceTime my sisters, hoping they’ll both be available.
“Where have you been?” Jemma all but screams, right as Cait shouts, “You haven’t answered a single text since you sent the Cumming picture!”
Jemma gasps. “Uh, phrasing?”
“Things got away from me,” I say weakly.
Which is very, very true.
“So what is Arcadia Falls like?” Cait asks.
“And what did we inherit?” Jemma chimes in, which is really what Cait means, because they are both in dire financial straits.
“Arcadia Falls is nice. It feels like home in a weird way.” It’s the farthest I’ve ever been from Cumberville, Alabama, and I’m actually pretty surprised by how much I like it, but I’m not sure how to tell my sisters that.
“How was the lawyer?” Jemma asks.
Maggie flutters up onto the couch, hops on the arm, and then lands on my shoulder, staring at the phone as she cocks her head back and forth, just like Doris used to. “So these are my other granddaughters,” she says. “Pretty as a picture. Which one is which?”
I touch Jemma’s face, and her name appears at the top of the screen.
“Ooh, that’s clever. I’m glad I can still read.”
“Well?” Cait presses.
“The lawyer is a character, and he was very helpful. Even bought me lunch. He has an eye patch. You’d want to put him in your pocket.”
“Love an eye patch!” Jemma giggles. “I’d also love to hear that we’ve inherited a mansion with a pool.”
“So the will was pretty strange,” I admit. “I had to deposit Maggie’s—our grandmother’s—ashes in a very specific way, and once that was done, I signed some paperwork, and now I—we are the owners of four pieces of property on the downtown square.”
“Ooh, like Monopoly?” Jemma asks, cheeks pink with excitement.
“If Monopoly was a broken-down video store that also sells boiled peanuts, an ancient movie theater, a hardware store, and the most haunted parts of an antiques market. With apartments on the second story. Right?”
Both of my sisters look at me quizzically. I’ve momentarily forgotten that I’m speaking to, well, a ghost they can’t hear.
“Right, but the other apartments aren’t as nice as this one. They’re not livable as is. No one’s set foot inside ’em in a couple of years. Things got away from me,” Maggie says.
“Right,” I answer myself for the sake of my sisters. “The apartments are probably going to need a ton of work, but the buildings are supposedly pretty solid.”
“How much can we sell them for?” Jemma asks.
I grimace, and her face falls.
“C’mon, Rhea. We can’t sell them? How does that even work?”
“It’s a legal thing. We own them, and we can rent them out, but we can’t sell them. Sorry.” It’s annoying that I feel guilty for something Maggie put in her trust, but I can see how upset my sisters are. They thought this was our big windfall, but…well, it’s more complicated than that, isn’t it?
God, there’s so much I haven’t had time to figure out.
I may be here to finally explore my own options, but my sisters are still depending on me.
How am I going to get a job in a tiny mountain town that probably has no jobs?
If there’s no actual money, what can I do to get by?
I barely have any savings at all. I’ve been living paycheck to paycheck my whole life.
The five hundred dollars from the lottery ticket isn’t going to go far.
And if Maggie’s right, it’s not like magic is going to be any help.
“Rental property is cool,” Jemma says, trying to be cheerful. “Passive income.”
“Well,” Cait says, “but then Rhea has to get them cleaned up and ready to rent, turn on utilities, find renters, call the lawyer with the eye patch….”
She trails off, and I’m annoyingly aware that she didn’t say we. She said Rhea.
“I haven’t even been here a full day, you guys,” I remind them. “Don’t put all your eggs in this basket.”
“Um.”
I know that Um. We all do.
It’s the one where Jemma is in trouble.
“What’s wrong, Jem?” I ask softly.
“I may have kind of rage quit my job today?”
I clench my teeth so hard I wonder if there are any good dentists in the area.
“A piece of work, this one,” Maggie mutters.
“Jemma…” I start.
“It’s just, you said there was an inheritance, and I pretty much hated it there, and my boss was so mean. I figured at least there would be some money, and you could float me until something better comes along.”
The look I give her is the same one Mama used to give her—loving but beyond exasperated.
“I can only use the money in the trust to improve the properties. Colonel—the lawyer—said there might be something additional in the bank, but who knows? I’ll go tomorrow and see.
” And then I remember who’s currently sitting on my shoulder.
“Sure would be helpful to know if there’s anything in that bank account,” I add.
“Nothing,” Maggie says quickly. “No need to go to the bank.”
Which, as far as I’m concerned, is Cagey Grandma Speak for “Definitely go to the bank, because I am hiding something else.”
“You got any savings?” I ask Jemma.
She turns even redder. “Maybe four hundred? If I only pay the minimum on my credit card. I’m sorry, Rhea. I should be more responsible, I know.”
“Kids these days, I swear,” Maggie grumbles.
“You’re only twenty-one,” I say to Jemma and for Maggie’s benefit. “And you have a good degree. I’m sure you’ll have a new job in a week or two. I can send you a little to get you by, but this inheritance isn’t going to be a lottery ticket. You’re going to have to keep working.”
Jemma raises her chin. “Of course! I’m a good employee, it’s just…the market is really hard right now. I’ll double down on my influencing.”
“We might need somebody in the front office,” Cait says. “I can ask, if you like.”
Jemma squeals and shakes her raised hands. “Would you? God, Cait, you’re the best. I wish you were both here so I could hug you!”
I think about how much I already miss them, and my heart twists like a wet rag.
If I were back home, I’d be in my car on my way to Jemma’s apartment, stopping off for ice cream on the way.
We’d watch nineties teen movies and eat sundaes, and I’d tell her everything is going to be all right.
Halfway through, Cait would show up late with store-bought cupcakes, and we’d get Jemma laughing and everything would be okay again.
But I’m four hours away. A familiar guilt engulfs me. I’m supposed to be there for my sisters. I’m supposed to take care of them. With our parents gone, this is my responsibility.
But I left my sisters, and I don’t even have the decency to throw gobs of cash at them.
We all say our usual goodbyes, and Jemma pops off the screen, but Cait stays.
“So…,” she starts.
“How much do you need?”
Her head hangs. She tries, but her mind vibrates on a different level, and she’s known for accidentally overdrawing her account. “It’s not my fault! I have a root canal next week. I ground my teeth so hard in a meeting that I cracked an old filling.”
It’s taking everything I have to resist opening my banking app and checking to make sure it hasn’t sprung a leak.
Not that it matters—I know exactly what’s in there, and it’s not enough to fix everything that’s wrong. I’m in a new town, I have no job, both of my sisters are in debt, and the inheritance isn’t an immediate infusion of much-needed cash.
Maybe I should’ve just stayed home.