Page 6 of The Other Half

“I won’t let you down.”

With a deep breath I left the room and closed the door behind me. Eleanor appraised me with an arched brow, and I pressed my lips into a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, Eleanor. About everything. I will make it up to you all.”

“We just want to see you succeed, Cassandra. That’s all.”

“I know.” Without her permission I pulled her in for a hug and we squished Poppy between us. “I’m sorry, Eleanor,” I whispered in her ear. After a moment I felt her soften and her arms wrapped around my bare shoulders.

“You’re forgiven,” she said, and the squeeze she gave me filled me with the resolve to straighten my life back out. It was time.

“Want to help me pack?” I asked, pulling back and arching a brow.

“Oh, Lord,” she said, shaking her head. “How long are you going away for?”

“I don’t know, Eleanor. Awhile, I think.”

“Well then I better pull out the big bags. And the trunks. And we’d better get the new suitcase we picked up for Princess Poppy out as well!” She slung her arm around my waist, and we walked to my room together as I prepared to pack for my new journey. Hopefully, the journey that would take me toward a future that would make my parents proud.

CHAPTER TWO

Cassandra

The Australian voice from my phone’s GPS chattered away at me. “Turn left.”

“Damn it! Tell me sooner!” I shouted at my phone over the chugging of my Oldsmobile when I passed the turn on the map. Glancing at the phone propped in my lap, I saw the “redirecting” words appear on the screen again. I’d just passed County E and after a three-and-a-half-hour drive from the airport, I was more than ready to get to the summer house my grandpa had arranged for me to stay in. Missing my turns only meant it would take longer, and as a bonified city girl, I was already feeling uneasy driving on these winding country roads.

It had been years since I’d been in a car, much less driven one. Ever since my earliest memory, I’d spent all my time traveling in limos, helicopters and jets. When I’d kissed Grandpa goodbye last night, he’d shoved one hundred dollars in my purse, the only money I was allowed to start this journey. He’d reminded me to say goodbye to my old life and embrace the new changes. I was prepared to give up my limos, but this rusty twenty-five-year-old car, if you could even call it a car, was an even farther stretch from the life I thought would be waiting for me on the Door Peninsula in Wisconsin. If I saw it coming toward me on the street, I would run from it, certain a serial killer lurked inside.

When I had arrived at the Milwaukee airport this morning, a man holding a sign with my name had flagged me in. Expecting him to be my driver, I had hurried over to him and told him where he could find my bags. All he did was hand me a key and a piece of paper with the words “You’re Welcome” and a parking spot number on it before turning away. Left standing at the baggage claim with enough suitcases to clothe a small Army, I had begged a security guard to help me. The two of us had pushed my bags and chests on luggage carts to the far end of the parking lot where this brown, rusted Oldsmobile sat waiting for me.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I’d said, checking the piece of paper again.

Yep.

This was it.

This was the car my grandfather had procured for me so I could get around Door County since they didn’t have any cabs. Not that I’d have the money for cabs anyway. I could almost hear him laughing all the way from the safety of his iron throne back in New York when I’d climbed in and started the engine. A puff of grey smoke surrounded me when it chugged back to life. To perk up my dormant driving skills, I spent the better part of an hour maneuvering the over-sized rust-bucket around the parking lot before I punched in the Baileys Harbor address on my GPS and started my travels to the small peninsula in Wisconsin called Door County.

Now I’d just passed my turn, and it meant being in this stinky metal box even longer. I looked down at Poppy who was curled up on the cashmere sweater I’d used to make a bed for her since I didn’t want her sitting on the stained orange upholstery. Sensing my eyes on her, she blinked and looked up at me, then yawned and dropped her head with a snort. At least I had my little girl with me on this journey.

“Turn left,” my phone said, and I looked up to see the road on my left disappearing behind me.

“Damn it!” I shouted again and slapped the wheel of my car. The road curved right, and I followed it along while my GPS started redirecting me again.

As I descended the winding hill, a view of the water opened up in front of me. The drive up here had been admittedly pretty with the novelty of all the trees and grass, but the scene in front of me stole the breath from my lungs. The late morning sun sparkled on the lake and a small boat cut through it with a water-skier flying behind them. As I followed the road more, I saw a beautiful sand beach stretched out along the waterfront and a stand-up paddle boarder drifting out into the endless blue water. Children ran down the beach and sunbathers peppered the sand. Maybe Grandpa didn’t want me to suffer as much as I thought. Baileys Harbor was downright picturesque.

“Wow, Poppy. It’s pretty here.”

She inhaled a deep breath and returned to her soft snores, unaware of the beautiful scenery surrounding us. Continuing the drive, I entered a town that looked more like a Hallmark card than what I expected a small town in Wisconsin to look like. In fact, I felt more like I was on Cape Cod than puttering around the Midwest. I passed a quaint gas station on my right where several pickup trucks sat at the pumps, and I caught another glimpse of the water as I drove by. I passed a beautiful church on my left, and a scattering of small restaurants and shops lined the streets of this beautiful little waterfront town. As I drove past a motel called the Beachfront Inn, I slowed down when I noticed an odd building across the street. It looked like it belonged in the Old West, and I furrowed my brow when I noticed the cutout of what looked like a big blue cartoon bull hanging over the doorway.

“Turn left,” my phone said, and this time I grabbed the wheel and careened up the road, refusing to miss my turn.

The quick maneuver sent Poppy and my cashmere sweater sliding across the seat and she woke up, racing over to my lap to settle in again. “Sorry, Poppy.” I stroked the smooth, short hair on her head while she curled back up again. A couple more almost missed turns, and a couple more quick maneuvers of this car that should have been in a junk yard a decade ago, and I saw the destination on my map up ahead. Knowing I was close now, I slowed down while I crossed over a small causeway situated between two stunning little lakes. My eyes darted back and forth between them and I tried not to get distracted by the beauty and swerve, taking out a few of the fisherman dotting the sides, each casting into the calm water while I drove between them all.

“Turn left,” my phone said after we got off the causeway. Since I was driving slower now, I made the turn with ease, then I continued following the GPS for the last few turns around these back roads until it said, “Your destination is on the left.” I stopped in front of the long, gravel driveway that disappeared into the woods and double checked the address on the old wooden mailbox that tipped like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, which I’d seen several times in my travels.

“This is it, Poppy. Home for now.”

My car chugged when I pressed on the gas again and turned down the driveway. Grandpa wanted me to figure things out on my own, but since I had nothing in this world that truly belonged to me, he’d agreed to let me keep my phone, provide me with a car, and get me a place to stay. Apparently, our family owned property in this vacation town in Door County, Wisconsin called Baileys Harbor. None of them had been here in decades but he said we had a summer cabin on Kangaroo Lake I could stay in.