Leilani
PROLOGUE
"Mom, what's this?"
I frown as I hold the check between my thumb and forefinger, counting the zeroes. A million dollars, made out to me. I turn it over and over in disbelief.What the what?
"Mom? Seriously. Is this a joke or something? Did I take too much cold medicine?" I hold the check up to the light, wondering if there's a watermark stamped on the slip of paper. Something along the lines of:You thought this was real? Sucker...
She rests her chin on her hand. "The lawyer gave it to me yesterday when he read the will. That's why I had to go to Tallahassee. It's your ticket out of here."
My eyes are still on the check. "I don’t get it. This is for me?"
"It's your share of Aunt Wanda's estate. You were her favorite niece."
A laugh bubbles from my lips. "I was her only niece." I pause, because it's probably bad to chuckle under these circumstances, considering my dear, slightly batty crazy aunt is dead.
“She had a sense of humor.”
"Aunt Wanda lived in a trailer in Sopchoppy. She had this kind of money? That's hard to believe." I blink several times,recalling how she used to brag that she never owned a credit card, a new car, or a cell phone.
Mom lifts a shoulder. "She worked for the school district all those years. She was great at saving money and at investing. She did a bit of day trading. Guess I never told you that."
"No, you never revealed the detail that little, silver haired Aunt Wanda was the Wolf of Wall Street."
The corners of Mom's mouth turn up. "Remember how she used to reuse the tinfoil until it was paper thin?"
"Yeah, and the half-priced food in the dented cans. I remember when I was little, and we went to visit her. You made a big show of bringing food, because you thought we'd get botulism or something from the expired soup."
Mom and I grin at each other.
"That was her generation, never threw anything away, always reused and recycled. Those eighty- and ninety-year-olds are like that. I talk with them all the time at work. Listen to their stories. But my older sister was frugal to a fault.Cheapis a better word."
"Obviously," I sniffle, then sneeze. "Sorry. And you? Please tell me she left you something. You two were close."
"Are you sick?" Mom studies me.
"Just a little cold. Can't seem to shake it. Probably stress." It's always stress, lately.
"Hmph. Well, to answer your question, I received a little more than you did. Enough to quit my job at Mangrove Manor." That's the nursing home where Mom's worked for years.
A small breath escapes my mouth. "I don't know what to say. How to feel. What to think."
"Thank the universe for Wanda's thriftiness, and then start making plans. Put that in your purse." Almost as if she's worried that someone will snatch the check from me, she looks around the near-empty chain restaurant, then takes a long sip of her sweet tea.
With trembling hands, I take the check and slide it into a folder I'd gotten from work, the one that contains the details of the park's new mermaid show,Wish Upon a Starfish. The folder is covered in glitter and the tiny seahorses I'd doodled on it during a slow afternoon, and the cheerfulness of it holding a check this size makes me want to laugh. And cry.
"This could change everything," I say slowly.
"No, thiswillchange everything." Her tone is forceful, which is unusual when we're together. "This is your ticket out of this place, Leilani. Away from that... that... pitiful specimen of a man. Away from a life of poverty and misery."
"But... aren't you being a bit dramatic?" I lick my lips. Gah. She's right. The love has long since faded between Brent and me, if it ever truly existed. Why do I stay? Because I make nine dollars an hour — plus benefits — as a mermaid at a roadside tourist attraction in Florida. It's enough to scrape by, but not to have a future. A fact that Brent, who is the vice president of a local bank, never lets me forget when he splits our expenses right down the middle (even though he makes more).
I've tried getting another job, or a second job, but as it turns out, two years of college combined with looking cute and swimming underwater with a tail fin isn't exactly the experience most employers are looking for.
"You could do anything with that kind of cash. Go back to school. Buy a house. Open your own business, like you've always talked about." Mom's blue eyes, so much like my own, glisten with tears.
"Mermosa," I whisper.
