Mom sat on the floor, half playing with Duggy, half packing Ryla’s clothes. “It’s amazing to me that none of these have hair on them.” She gave Duggy the side-eye.
Quin glanced into the donate box and tugged a soft knee-length sweater from the top, then clutched it close. It still held a little of Ryla’s scent and the softness was like the hug she’d been too much of a fool to ever give her before it was too late.
“Why are you keeping that? I can’t even imagine having sweaters here, but maybe where you live…” Mom dumped a stack of clothes from the nearby drawer into the box without looking at them.
Even though the weather had been hot on the day before Ryla’s death, she’d brought the sweater along and had used it to soften the seat. That day had been one of the most stressful and uncomfortable, but that day, more than any other, Quin would cherish because Ryla had been real with her.
“Maybe because I want to keep a few things.” Things that, like the diaries, reminded her of times that were probably the best in her life. Strange that when she lived them, she could only think about the future. Now that the future had arrived and she’d seen where her life ended up, she wished she could have a few minutes back.
“Well, don’t keep much. Your apartment is small. It’s not like you make a bunch of money on your art and your father and I won’t pay your way. You’re an adult now. These are just clothes, keep what you think meant something to her.”
Quin realized Mom had already boxed up much of the dresser. Three other large boxes sat behind her. “I never asked you to pay for anything. Not even college.” Because if they hadn’t, she’d have picked a smaller, less expensive school and done it on her own. That tie was just another rope around her waist, attaching her to her parents, that they could use against her at-will. “Maybe if I hadn’t gone where you chose to send me, both of us could’ve gone.”
Mom was silent for a moment, then the scratching, stretching sound of the tape as she rolled it over the box to seal it shut cut into the silence. “We had enough for one child, and you showed the most promise. Ryla never liked being in a crowd and didn’t really want to go. She wouldn’t have lasted more than a few weeks. College would’ve been very stressful for her. Her heart couldn’t handle it. Not even then.”
Not even then? “How long have you known about this?” Quin lowered herself cross-legged on the floor. Duggy hopped away. She was beginning to think the angry look he seemed to give her was just the way his face was made.
“She’s had a weak heart for…years. Probably since high school, but we didn’t know for sure until she was eighteen. I remember even before her diagnosis that her doctor said she shouldn’t be in sports or even take physical education. She wasn’t sad about that.”
Leave it to Mom to joke about something that wasn’t funny. “Why didn’t I know?”
She frowned. “I don’t know. You were only two years older. I guess we figured she would tell you what she wanted you to know. You two were close back then.”
She’d thought they were… Ryla’s dairy from her teen years was still on the shelf, but Quin had to hurry if Mom was already packing the house. Packing felt final and this house was Ryla’s home, the place where Quin could feel her. Once it was sold, she’d never be able to return and feel that again…the green bean casserole feeling would be lost forever. “Mom…can you not pack anymore, please? Just until I get my feelings straight. I want to help, especially since I’d like to keep a few things, but I can’t deal with it this fast.”
“Honey, I know you don’t want to deal with this. You’re probably worried about your own death all of a sudden because you were so close in age. But don’t worry. This isn’t something that runs in the family. You’ve got a long life ahead of you.” She grabbed another flat box and opened it, then taped the bottom.
“That isn’t it at all. Ryla told me so much in the two days before she died and I want to honor her by thinking about her words, but I can’t do that if I’m constantly worried you’re going to pack away something important. Where is all this going, anyway?” Quin’s chest ached thinking about what could be lost already.
“Goodwill. It’s not like we can keep it all.” Her mom gestured at the bed and the medical equipment in the corner. “Mr. Daniels…Paxton—is that what you said his name was?—said he’d stop by later today with a friend and load all of that up. Ryla was renting it and I don’t want to get a bill for it.”
Quin didn’t bother to hold in her flinch like she normally would around her mother. “Mom…please.” Couldn’t she be warm, just for a few weeks?
“Fine.” She stood up and dusted off her backside. “I’m only trying to help you so you don’t have to do all of this alone. We found her will on file with the bank, notarized in a lockbox. She left you the house, the rabbit, and her money. Virtually everything. She left us some letters that were with the will.”
So, the house was hers. But Mom—in her desire to help—was busy giving it all away? “I didn’t know Ryla owned the house. If it’s mine, then let me deal with it. You don’t have to stay and do this.” She’d much rather if they just left.
Mom frowned and took a deep breath. “Ryla had an issue with the homeowner’s association early on and needed to be able to claim the property as hers. We signed a quitclaim deed and put it in her name since it was paid off and we didn’t want it in our names any longer.”
More things she’d never known. “She thought I could handle it. Please let me.”
Mom nodded briefly and strode out of the room. Duggy shifted slightly to watch her leave and seemed to lurch forward as if he had seriously considered hopping after her. “Not today, rabbit.” Quin scooped him up and held him close. He pressed his nose into her shoulder, almost like a return hug. It was a start.
Duggy pushed free of her grasp and hopped to his cardboard cutout playhouse. He’d chewed huge holes in it, and he peered at her through one of them.
“Would you like a new one?” She glanced at the boxes Mom had left lying on the floor, ready to pack away all of Ryla’s belongings where no one had to think about them ever again. It was a small defiance, but a defiance none the less. Quin grabbed the box cutter Mom had left sitting next to the unused boxes and carefully cut a little square hole in the side of the box big enough for Duggy to jump through, then she taped the box shut and turned it over like a little hideout for him. He eyed her but didn’t leave his old enclosure.
Quin stood and took the high school diary off the shelf. While the first one had definitely shown Ryla’s childish thoughts, the teen diary would surely be full of angst. It seemed like all teens were. Was she ready to deal with the emotions of a teen when her grief was still so raw? Did she have a choice?
Someone knocked, saving her from the decision. She jogged to the door, closing the bedroom to keep Duggy contained. The last thing she wanted to do was chase him around the neighborhood. Especially with Paxton angry at her.
She opened the door and Karla stood on the other side, a tentative smile pulling at her lips. “I hope this isn’t a bad time…?”
The question seemed mildly funny given the circumstances, but Quin didn’t laugh. Instead, she opened the door. “Want to come in?”
Karla glanced inside then bit her lip and shook her head. “Not really. I was wondering if you wanted to walk the beach for a few minutes?”
Quin had arrived at her sister’s over a week go, yet had only been to the shore that one time. “Sure.” She stepped outside. “Thank you for supper last night. I think there’s enough that we can have it tonight, too.”
Karla nodded. “I’m glad.” She tucked her hands in her back pockets as they strode toward the beach. Her blonde hair was held back in a perfect bun and her clothes all looked pressed. “I just needed some time away and thought of you, sitting there in that big house dealing with everything. Thought you could use a break too.”
As the sun warmed the top of her head and the breeze cooled her cheeks, Quin took a deep breath. “I did. More than I realized. I keep trying to do two things at once and then just end up spinning my wheels on both.”
Karla smiled and shielded her eyes from the sun as she glanced out to sea. “Some things need singular focus. I’m finding that out now too.”
“Did you lose someone too? I mean, aside from Ryla?” She didn’t want to be too nosy with a woman she barely knew, especially when she’d leave in a few weeks and probably never see her again.
“My husband is leaving. I’ve tried to be the face of the perfect wife for the last fourteen years, but it wasn’t enough. He’s moving to Arizona and told me he’ll take the kids over winter break and in the summer…the summer! The best part of living here.” She frowned and her jaw trembled.
Quin was surprised, and not sure how to respond. Most people didn’t confide in her, mostly because she never let them get close enough to do so. “What’s going to happen in the neighborhood when they find out?” Quin kept Karla’s slow pace.
“They’ll think I’m a fraud. I’ve always painted our lives as idyllic, even when they weren’t. Who needs to see someone else’s mess?”
Painting things as perfect when they weren’t was her specialty, both in life and in career. Since Quin didn’t live there, hadn’t seen the picture Karla had painted, she was safe to talk to. “I don’t think Paxton would judge you that way.” Though, he had been harsh about a rabbit, so maybe she was wrong.
“He’s a very small part of the neighborhood. I can’t stay in that house. I love this area, it’s always been my home, but I can’t stay. He won’t pay for it.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach and hung her head. “I don’t know where I’ll go with the kids. I can’t work enough hours while they’re at school to pay for that house myself.”
She had Ryla’s house…right in the same neighborhood. With plenty of rooms and space. But she’d only met Karla twice and she obviously had issues with truthfulness if the whole neighborhood believed lies about her family. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
“I don’t expect you to have answers. You just seemed like the type who would listen and you’re literally the only person I know of who doesn’t know my life. I had to talk to someone. I’m sorry for dumping on you when you just lost your sister.”
Quin stopped and faced Karla, forcing her to stop. “I’m dealing with that the best I can. Slowly. If I think of any way to help you, I will.” It could be as easy as getting to know her a little better. “Maybe you’d like to come over later?”
Karla let her face relax and then her shoulders followed until she looked calm again. “I’d like that. I’ll bring something to go along with those green beans. I…like to cook when I’m stressed. Maisy and Davin will be excited. The last few days have been stressful once their dad gets home from work. We’ll just leave him a portion and escape to Rosewood.”
She thought about the name on the front of the house, how few people did that. “Do you think it’s silly? Naming a house?”
“My mom said your parents were…eccentric. They always did things their own way. No one was surprised when your father put that sign out.”
“Your mom used to live here?” She didn’t remember Karla at all.
“Yes, in the house I live in now, but it was only a time-share then and we never got prime time. My mother hired a nanny to follow me and my siblings around, so we never went to school. I got to live all over as a child, but I don’t have those lifelong friends that some do.”
Quin didn’t either. Once she’d left Driftwood Bay, she’d cut ties with every friend she’d had in the hopes of having fewer reasons to have to come home. “Well, in that way, we’re very similar.”
“Good. I hope we find lots more ways we are. I should get back to the house before the kids get home from school. I’ll see you tonight.” Karla waved as she crossed the sand to the house two down from Rosewood.
Quin waved in return then waded into the water for a minute to cool her bare feet. Ryla had loved the waves lapping against her toes. Most of her art in the attic had to do with the ocean and the beach. Water played a huge part. Quin never allowed herself to paint the ocean, too afraid that the old animosity of her life would show through. Ryla hadn’t let it.
As she turned her feet back toward home, she considered those paintings and how much the neighborhood loved this beach. Maybe she could find her own love for it again through Ryla’s art, if she could stand to look at it.