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Chapter Thirty-Nine
Juliet
Pip didn’t seem to be doing well without Roman.
Every day he said less and less. Roman said he could be talkative, but I never saw that side of him.
“Is everything okay at the home?” I asked.
He shrugged.
“Can I see your notebook?”
In one of Roman’s letters, he’d asked me to make sure Pip had a plain notebook to draw in every day.
He passed over the notebook in silence.
I flipped through pages of pretty scenes. Girls with big, expressive eyes and little clothing. The images gradually got more disturbing. They went from vibrant colors to black and red drawings of zombies and corpses.
“You should talk to Mr. Broom and see if you can get into his advanced art class. These are really good.”
He shrugged. “Next semester. Maybe.”
My phone rang. Praying it was Roman, I answered right away.
“Juliet Hayworth?”
“Yes?”
“Hayden Porter, attorney for Mrs. Shields.”
“Oh! Hi!” I almost jumped out of my seat with excitement. Maybe he had good news about Roman.
“I’m so sorry to tell you this over the phone, but Mrs. Shields passed away this morning.”
My stomach slid to my toes. “What? No. That can’t be.” This had to be a mistake. “I just saw her last night.”
“You did?” His suspicious tone penetrated my fog of disbelief.
“Yes.” Tears burned my eyes, but I kept my voice steady. “I try to stop by every night to help her water the plants and take care of things around the house.”
“I see,” he said slowly. In the background, it sounded as if he were taking notes. “That’s good to hear, Miss Hayworth. She was very fond of you.”
I swallowed hard but couldn’t force out a single word.
“Juliet? Are you still there?”
“I’m here,” I whispered.
“I understand this is a shock and a difficult time, but I’ll need you to come by my office. She already made all her funeral arrangements after Raymond died, but you still need to—”
“Wait, what? Why do you need me?”
“It will be easier to explain in person. I can come to you, if that’s easier.”
“No. Give me the address. I’ll be there after my last class.”
The rest of my day was a painful blur. Mrs. Shields had been my most maternal influence. Until more recently our relationship had been mostly superficial greetings and chats over banana bread. She’d been good to me. And to Roman.
Oh God.
More bricks of reality slammed into my head. Roman wouldn’t be moving in with Mrs. Shields now.
I ripped a piece of paper out of my notebook and jotted down a quick letter to Roman. He needed to know what was happening. I dropped the envelope in the mail on the way to Mr. Porter’s office.
With Mrs. Shields gone, it didn’t seem right to borrow her car anymore. It took two different city buses to find my way to his office.
Tears pricked my eyes. She was really gone.
Why hadn’t I stayed later? She seemed fine last night, but I should have checked in on her this morning. What if I’d noticed she wasn’t feeling well and I could’ve gotten her to the hospital or something?
“Come in, Juliet,” Mr. Porter said.
I sank into the antique leather chair across from his desk and inhaled the musty scent of law books and yellowing paper.
“What happened?” I blurted out before he took his seat.
“It looks like she had a heart attack this morning.”
A strangled cry escaped me. I’d been late to school and worried about Pip, so I hadn’t stopped by her house. Hadn’t even thought to check on her.
“CPS was conducting their home inspection. They were the ones to find her and call emergency services.”
“Oh my God.”
“Juliet, you’re seventeen, correct?”
“Yes. Almost eighteen.”
“Your aunt and uncle are your legal guardians?”
I frowned at the question. Why did he care? “Yes, why?”
He flipped open a folder on his desk and took out a stapled stack of papers. “Save for a few personal items, Mrs. Shields left everything she owned to you.”
It took a few minutes for his words to sink in.
“She did what?”
“The house and its contents. Her car. Some investments. It’s a small estate, but it should help you through college. In the event that she passed while you were underage, she appointed me as trustee until your twentieth birthday. I’ll handle all the bills, taxes, and other matters for you.”
“What about her daughter?”
He shook his head. “Kimmy was left some Christmas decorations and a jewelry box that contains items Mr. Shields gave his wife over the years. But everything else is yours.” He gave me a sympathetic smile. “She said you were the only person who worried about her or checked up on her. She knew you had a rough life and she wanted to make things easier on you.”
Tears freely streamed down my cheeks.
Because of Mrs. Shields, I’d be able to attend college without worrying about how to pay for it.
