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“Don’t be a smartass,” she said. “Give me the details. Is it well-kept? Clean? Was your grandmother a hoarder?”
“No, she wasn’t,” I said, giggling. “I don’t really have any plans other than to get to the cabin and take a look at it. But I know my Gigi. That woman hated change. It probably looks the same as it did the day I left for college.”
“Did she keep it tidy, though?” she asked.
“Yep.”
“Then hopefully that means it’s still been kept up despite her nursing home stay.”
“Let’s hope so,” I said.
“Did the attorney send you any pictures of it?” she asked.
“A few. Mostly of the outside and the yard. From the few pictures I was given, though, it looks to be in okay shape.”
“Define okay.”
“I mean, the grass was a bit long in the pictures and gravel rocks from the driveway are scattered places, but the outside looks fine,” I said.
“What about the other pictures?” she asked.
“There were two of the inside. One was of the living room, which looked bare but fine. The other was of her room, which looked pretty dark and dusty.”
“Just like your crotch lately,” she said, giggling.
“Haha, very funny. Either way, as long as I can settle in it I’ll be okay. I can clean it up and mow the lawn, that’s not the issue. I don’t have the money for a motel or anything.”
“If you need the money, you know I’ve got you.”
“Thanks, Sarah. But I promise I’m okay,” I said.
“Well, don’t hesitate to ask. You know I’m only a phone call away.”
“I do,” I said. “Thanks.”
“Don’t let that asshole Daryl get to you, and stay safe. Where are you now that you’re driving?”
“Winding up the mountain, actually. The cabin should come into view any—”
I rounded the last bend in the mountain before my grandmother’s house came into view. I felt the breath leave my lungs as I pulled the rental car into the sparse gravel driveway. The pictures had been misleading at best and must’ve been taken when the light was just right.
Because this place was a wreck.
“Amanda? What’s wrong?”
“Uh, nothing,” I said. “Just memories,” I mumbled.
What the hell happened to my grandmother’s home?
“Are you sure?” Sarah asked.
“Positive. It’s all a bit much.”
“Okay. Because you sound worried,” she said.
“Well, you don’t worry about me. I’m going to see you in a few days, right? You’re still coming out?”
“Of course. I’ll be driving, though. I can’t afford to haul all this art stuff of yours onto an airplane.”
