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Kylie
They’re never goingto stop till they get what they want from me. And it’s something I’m never going to give. With trembling fingers I peel the note off my front door. I have to read it one more time before my feet will let me go inside.
Your family owes us. You know what we want.
I stand on my stoop, still as a statue, and try to dissolve my fear.Deep breath in, Kylie, deep breath out. You can and will get yourself out of this mess.I open the door, fingers shaking less now, and make my way to our little blue and white kitchen. It’s still spotless from when I cleaned it this morning, the electric teakettle sitting in the same spot I put it after I wiped the counters down. Nonna hasn’t gotten out of bed yet.
Heat flashes over my face as I tear the paper into pieces, tossing them into the trash. I’ve got to find a way to fix this.
I will find a way to fix this.
I’ve already begun, haven’t I?
I need money. Fast. A lot of it.
And not to pay for yardwork. It’s to save my ass. If my current plan doesn’t work… if I can’t get the money… then hopefully my latest venture will offer me some protection.
But if my plan fails…
I sink down into a kitchen chair, staring out the large bay of windows that run along the back of the kitchen. I keep the glass spotless; the blue checkered curtains are freshly washed and ironed, but the patch of shaggy grass in the overgrown backyard tugs at my heart.
The lawn needs cutting but the mower broke. Another thing that will have to go untended. I wrap the end of a long strand of my dark hair around my finger, twisting and pulling it tight, a nervous habit I’ve tried to break but which lately seems to be happening more often. At least the wildflowers from the seeds my mom spread years ago came up this summer right on cue.
There’s a rustling in the bushes… just past my mother’s flower beds. My palms feel damp as I press them against the table, standing from my seat. Is it one of them? The man that left the note? Have they come to collect what is owed?
A mangy, orange-striped tomcat stalks out of the leaves. He glances up at the window, giving an ornery meow.
I fall back down onto my seat, willing my racing heart to slow. “It’s just a cat, Kylie. Just a cat.”
Today it might be a grouchy tabby, but in time, they will come.
I push the thought from my mind. I can’t bear the thought of what I’ll be forced to do. This is exactly why I found the new job. The pay is generous. Due to recent unseemly rumors finding their way around the village, my new employers have had difficulty finding home help. I’m hoping they’ll become attached to me enough to protect me.
My grandmother calls to me from her bed.“Tesoro,sweetheart, is that you?”
“Yes. I just got home.” I kick off my boots, neatly placing them by the back door. Padding down the hall in my socked feet, I head to her room. She’s still buried in the piles of quilts I tucked around her this morning. Has she even moved? Is it possible she looks more frail than when I left her?
I hide the worry from my face with a bright smile. “Would you like some tea?”
“Tea is for old ladies.” She shakes her head. “My spirit needs wine.Pane vino e zucchero, please.”
Her favorite snack, bread covered in wine and dipped in sugar. I should make her eat some meat or cheese with it, but I haven’t been to the store today.
I nod. “Bread and wine it is.”
“Thank you, Kylie.”
“Only the best for you, Nonna.”
In the kitchen, I cut a slice of bread, putting it on my mother’s beloved gold-rimmed china, little pink roses dancing along the plate’s edge, a cherished possession she brought back from the States with her. Along with my short stature and round hips and a handful of photographs, the dishes complete the items I have to remember my mother by.
I sprinkle the bread with tons of sugar, the way Nonna likes it, and pour wine on top until the sugar is colored. I bring it to her on a tray with a fork, knife, linen napkin, and a jar filled with a bunch of wildflowers I picked from the backyard.
Time to tell Nonna the good news.
Her graying brow is perfectly manicured, and her silvery hair curls around her head like a halo. At sixty-two, she’s still a beautiful woman with her sparkling blue eyes and high cheekbones. Even though she’s spent the day alone, she’s taken the care to apply a touch of rouge to her cheeks and a bit of gloss on her lips.
