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Smiling, I tuck my dirty-blonde hair behind my ear. “I couldn’t ask you to buy me groceries. I have to find a bank and set up all my finances here, so I don’t have any cash on me.”
Waving me off, she scoffs, turning to head down the front porch steps. “Please, I don’t need your money. Consider it a welcome gift. Where you from anyway?”
“Oh, uh, New York.”
“Oh yeah? You’re a long way from the city, babe. Get used to favors, small acts of kindness, and an ungodly number of pies. The people here are way different than those city types. See ya tonight!” And like that, she jaunts off down the paved driveway and back onto the road toward town.
“Well, okay then.” Shutting the door, I turn, and I’m met with two sweet sets of puppy dog eyes and wagging tails. “Dorothy, Clyde, what do we do now?”
CHAPTER SIX
HANNA
When I had a minute to really sit down and collect my thoughts, which didn’t get collected or even the slightest bit unraveled, I decided to make work of the closet upstairs. Taking the small amount of clothes I brought with me, I fit them onto a rail, taking up nearly no space at all. Could I clean out the closet? Yes. Am I ready or feel like it’s right? Absolutely not.
I just got here, and I can’t tell my head from my ass. So taking on that type of project just seems… futile. Another day, another time. But looking at my clothes in the closet, I feel it’s more noticeably pitiful, given the house it’s in. That’s like rags sitting in riches, literally. Does this town even have a place to shop for clothes?
Money—the next point nagging my brain. I have loads of money now. More than I care to admit. Spending it, knowing it’s mine, seems daunting. Just because I didn’t know the man, it doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad or as if I’m using him. Is that my intention, no. But come on. That’s madness, sick almost.
“Hey, Grandpa I knew nothing about, thanks for the millions. Sorry ’bout your death. I’m going to spend all your money now and live in your home and act as if this is all just another day!”
Crazy. I’m officially insane. I’m talking to myself, and the audience that watches me is just as much on the crazy train as I am, as Dorothy and Clyde stare at me, not judging me, just… staring.
Releasing a sigh, I pat their heads again and pull down some distressed jeans and a black off-the-shoulder Def Leppard tee I found at a thrift shop, then take my long hair and throw it up in a loose, low-hanging bun. Setting the clothes on the bathroom counter, I then start up the bath and moving back to the sink. I open the drawers and cabinets, looking for some sort of bath salts, bubbles, or even just some body wash.
The fourth drawer is the winner. I find some scented bath salts and dump them into the rising water. The aroma fills the bathroom, and I sink into the hot water, blowing out a deep breath. I release as much off my shoulders as I can, almost dissociating, which is something I’m good at. Seeing as I grew up in foster homes, making temporary connections in which I had to sever more often than I wish I ever had to do.
The troubles of my life just seem to fade, like the heat of the water as it grows cold after an hour. Finally, I will myself out and get dressed, preparing for Brenda to return.
The doorbell rings, and the dogs start barking, running to the door with wagging tails. I see Brenda with some bags in her hands and a giant smile. Opening the door, I greet her, “Hey! Welcome back,” moving aside to invite her in. I take some of the bags from her hands, and we make our way into the kitchen.
“I’ll never get over how beautiful this house is. My mother and JD really made this place something special.”
“Your mother?” I question, placing the bags on the kitchen counter next to the fridge.
“Oh yeah, sorry. My mom, Kerrin, she’s an interior designer. She helped your grandfather design this place.”
There it is. I knew he had to have some help; this place is literally flawless. “That makes sense. I mean, I didn’t know JD, but I couldn’t believe he’d do all this alone.”
She nods, and the smile that seems to never really leave her face widens just a bit more. “Yeah, he had expensive taste but terrible execution, so insert my mother. And hey, we don’t have to talk about him if it’s too much. I can only imagine all you are processing after losing a loved one.”
I swallow thickly, past the lump that has formed in my throat with that statement.
