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"I know," she snarked, though it was empty of humor. Callie was a natural at painting, incredibly talented. "But don't let it go to your head. It's not like I spent weeks obsessing over every brushstroke or anything." She rolled her eyes.
“I love it. Thank you.” I touched the edges. “Did you just finish it? How is it already dry?”
“Umm, hair dryer. Duh.”
I stuck my tongue out at her.
“I too, have something for you.” Benson said, pulling a small box from his pocket, adorned with a red ribbon.
Curious, I opened the lid, my mouth dropping as I pulled out a large diamond necklace. “Benson, I… How…” I was stunned speechless.
"It was your mother's," Benson said gently, his voice filled with a mix of tenderness and nostalgia. "She wanted you to have it for your eighteenth birthday."
Tears welled up in my eyes as I clasped the necklace to my chest. "Thank you," I whispered, my voice filled with emotion. Benson nodded, winking at me.
“Can I see?” Callie’s hand was to her neck, her palm covering the heart-shaped necklace mom had given to her when she was really little. Passing the necklace to her, Callie studied it.
“Wow. It’s beautiful. I’m glad you saved it,” she said to Benson. “It’s like a piece of our family's history right here." She carefully handed it back to me, then the room grew silent once more.
The question of our future loomed in the air, bringing a somber tone to the room. Callie broke the silence, her voice cautious, “Soooo… Are you going to sell the house?”
I didn't answer, taking my time to think carefully. "I don't want to."
"But. You can’t.”
“Callie,” I rubbed my eyes, “how are you going to eat? That trust only covers tuition." I knew because dad sent us monthly allotments.
"I can earn money tutoring. You know I can charge a bajillion dollars to those spoiled brats."
"Yeah, and those spoiled brats can also just buy their grades."
"I'll figure out a way to make it work. And I don't need much. You know I don't care about new clothes and stuff."
"But you do care about your friends. You like hanging out with them."
"And if they're my true friends, they'll pay for me."
“Do you really want to be under their thumb like that?"
She raised a shoulder. "I'd rather keep the things that remind me of dad." There was a low tremble to her voice and I knew she was on the verge of crying. Shit.
"I know." I stared at the table again. “Benson? You’re being quiet over there. I don’t think we can afford to keep you on.”
“You don’t need to worry about that.”
I stared up at him. “Benson, you can’t stay on without pay.”
“I have everything I need,” he insisted, straightening his glasses. “As long as you’ll continue to let me live in the guest house.”
“Of course, but?—”
“But, nothing. I’ve lived here a long time, Miss Duvall. And no one is going to chase me away now.”
I bit down my smile. Benson was just as stubborn as my dad had been.
“You have enough to worry about,” he insisted, “Don’t bother with an old man like me.”
“Besides,” Callie said, “We don’t need you?—”
