Page 169 of Lucky Mother Pucker

I tense up for a second. “Good.”

Zoey walks off, and I notice Lucy’s focused stare on me.

“Are you okay after what happened with your dad?”

The concern flickering in her eyes sends a wave of emotion through me. She cares about me so much.

I nod at her. I’m not gonna waste one more second thinking about him.

“I’m good, Luce. I swear.”

I give her hand a soft squeeze. The worry in her expression fades, and I feel like I can breathe again.

When we drive back to Denver that night, she holds my hand the whole way home.

* * *

Lucy opens another box of her parents’ belongings.

She pulls out a rainbow tie-dyed T-shirt that looks at least three sizes too big for her. She smiles as she looks at it.

“What’s that?” I ask.

She holds it up to me, the look in her eyes warm. “My dad’s old shirt. He’d wear it in the spring and summer when he was doing work in the garden.”

I set aside the empty cardboard box I’m holding and walk over to her. I sit down next to her on the floor of the shed and kiss her on the cheek.

“It’s really bright,” I say.

“My mom would tease him for wearing it. It was an old shirt from college that he refused to throw away.”

She carefully folds it up and sets it aside, then looks at what else is in that box. Every day Lucy comes out to the shed and goes through her parents’ things. And every time, she’s a little less sad. She smiles more. She talks more too. Tells me about the memories they bring up.

I come out with her to help her sort through them almost every time she does. I don’t stay the whole time though. I want to give her privacy too.

I kiss her forehead and stand up to break down the empty cardboard boxes that have piled up. I step over to the space heater in the corner and bump up the temperature. It’s the middle of December, so winter is in full swing here in Denver. There’s a fresh layer of snow on the ground this evening, and the temperature is well below freezing.

I’m in the middle of piling up the flattened boxes to bring to the recycling bin when I hear Lucy gasp.

“Oh my god…” She’s staring at a small stack of papers in her hands.

I walk over to her. “What’s wrong?”

She doesn’t say anything at first. I watch as she skims the text on the paper. A second later, she looks up at me. “I think this is my mom’s will.”

She looks back down at the paper, flipping through the pages. “I didn’t think she had a will.”

I look down at the document. “Wait, she didn’t tell you?”

Lucy shakes her head. “No. And I didn’t think to look for one when she died because it was so sudden.”

She’s quiet again as she scans the text. Her eyes go wide.

“No way,” she rasps.

She turns the paper to me, and I read it.

In the event of the decedent’s passing, possession of the property at 977 Pickett Street shall be inherited by Lucy Rebecca Bailey, beneficiary and daughter of the decedent, immediately.