29

 

My mother comes into my bedroom dressed in black polyester dress slacks and a mauve sweater with two fake pearls at the neckline. She sticks out one foot to show me her loafers, circa 1972. It is two days before New Year’s Eve and she’s going out to apply for jobs. I told her this morning that no one is hiring until after the holidays, but she’s determined.

“You look nice.” I’m packed under my blankets even though it is after 9 AM. My energy level is at zero. Maybe I’m coming down with something. Depression, probably.

“Robert typed a resume for me, although I don’t know how raising two kids and keeping house counts for much.”

“Here.” I slip out of bed and move her over to my dresser. Digging through my jewelry box, I come up with a pair of long silver earrings. “Wear these.” I hold them in my palm. She takes them and puts them into her ears.

“Thanks sweetie. They look nice.” Her confidence is waning.

I give her a big hug. “You’ll do awesome! Do you know where you’re going first?” I pray it isn’t the mall. The shops rot there.

“The mall. There’s a cute card shop I like.”

I hold back a groan. “How about downtown where they built some new businesses? Isn’t there a dress store there or something? Mom, you can’t work at the mall. On Friday nights it’s filled with teenager make-outs.”

Her smile fades. I know today is hard for her. At two, she and Dad are seeing a lawyer.

I offered to go with her but she refused. She wants to be independent, she told Robert and me. Does independent mean not taking help? I don’t think so.

Her car pulls out of the driveway a few minutes later. I jump into the shower and plan my day. Drew asked to meet him for lunch at the pizza place on Main. Curiosity about his plans makes me go. I wear my best fleece and jeans, and by the time I’m ready I’m late.

The delicious odor of garlic greets me when I push through the entrance doors of the pizzeria.

Drew waits at a side table, a soda in his hand. He rises when I draw close, reaching down to kiss my cheek. I almost reel into the next table.

“What can I get you?” He nods toward the counter.

“Root beer, please. Did you order yet?”

“Pepperoni, large. Will that work?”

He remembers my passion for pizza. I wait while he brings my drink and then shuffles back into his chair beside me. His nearness ruffles my composure.

I sip and then cough from the bubbles. I’m acting like a high school girl with a crush. Again. When will I grow up?

Drew is watching me with the grin. “You never said you forgave me. Do you?” He looks at me intently, wearing his teaching face. Serious.

I think about my answer. He let me down but so did my father, and how many times did I forgive him? I lost count years ago. “Sure. You’re forgiven. Now, are you going to tell me why you aren’t trying to go on tour again?”

“Right after you tell me what happened with your brother.”

“You never go first.” I enjoy his teasing. It reminds me of my relationship with Robert—but more.

“Beauty before age.”

“Now you’re making it hard for me not to go first.” The toe of my boot meets his. I nudge him. “You have this way about you.”

“A way you like?” He moves his chair closer. Will he hear my heartbeat?

“Maybe.” I never was coy, but today I’m learning. I clear my throat. “My brother decided to go to college. Here. Not in Florida. So thank you. You helped me.”

“And your mother? How’s she doing with all that’s happening?”

“She’s actually on a job hunt today. Where I should be, too.” I frown, remembering my state of unemployment. “I tried to get her to wait until after the holidays, but she’s determined. I also met with my father. He won’t let the farm go. He wants his share. That’s the part that’s killing me. I know my mother wants it, but she can’t afford to buy him out, and I don’t have that kind of money. So in a few months I’ll be homeless. Unemployed and homeless. Good life, huh? And my brother says he’ll help me. Help me what? Put back a life I destroyed a year ago?” When Drew doesn’t laugh, I stop.

There it is. My life laid out on a pizza table.

“I don’t have room for romance, Drew.”

He takes my hand. “There’s always room for romance. My turn now. I’m moving back here. When I figured out that I didn’t want to go through all that touring again, I had to make a decision. I wasn’t happy in Florida. I wasn’t happy at that school teaching Golf Psychology. I was happiest teaching others how to golf. So why not do it here?”

“What do you mean here?”

“I’m buying Keystone Hills Golf Course. It needs some upkeep, but by spring it should be ready to go. My brother plans to come up and help me run it.”

His features light with excitement as he tells me about his venture and plans to make Keystone one of the most sought after places to golf in the area. Fifteen minutes pass before he stops, realizing he has been doing all the talking. “I’m sorry. I am so ready to do this I can’t think of anything else.”

I rest my chin on my palm. “I love your energy. Your passion is amazing. I’m so happy for you.” He’s made the right choice about his life. I can’t help but compare his plans to mine and wish I can feel that same surge he has now. “If I can do anything to help, please let me.”

“Thanks for listening to me go on and on. I sign the paperwork once the lawyer gets through—and the surveyor and everyone else involved. I can’t wait to walk on that course and know it’s mine. It’s taken all my savings, but I have this feeling about it. I can’t describe it, but when you know something is right, you know.”

“It sounds right to me. I’m so happy for you.” I mean what I say. I’m so pleased and could listen to him all day, but I want to get home to see how my mother made out on her search and her meeting with my father. So much is happening in my life right now, I find it hard to focus on what I should be doing. I’ve never been one to flounder, but it seems I am now.

“What are you doing on New Year’s Eve?” Drew gathers up our plates as he asks.

“Same thing I do every year. We sit around the tree and make stupid resolutions. Last year I resolved to become a famous artist. Look where that got me.”

“It got you to me.” He wriggles his eyebrows. Just a little.

“It got me a student loan payment. A twisted ankle. And no career.”

“Greet the new year with me.”

The only other date I ever had on New Year’s ended in disaster. I had turned eighteen and Amanda set me up with her cousin. A popular band was playing at a new restaurant in town, and she and her fiancé wanted to go.

Dick, her cousin, said he’d be my date. I went so far as having my hair done at a salon and I bought a fancy red shirt to wear. When they picked me up, Dick said hello and that was about it for the night until twelve o’clock struck and he grabbed me in a bear hug and locked his lips on mine—plus his hands—and wouldn’t let go until I pushed him away. No, it wasn’t fun. It put a sour taste to what most people believe should be a fun experience. I’d rather sit home and watch the ball go down.

“What are you thinking about? I lost you.” Drew is waiting for an answer.

I know in my heart if I go out with him on the supposedly most romantic night of the year—if you are with the right person—I might not be able to turn back. Especially since he will be in close proximity. And am I ready for a relationship when I can’t even get my life under control? “I’m going to pass, but thank you. I think I’ll spend it with my family again this year.”

His smile falters, but he revives himself and scoops up my coat when I stand. Drew is a gentleman for sure when he isn’t on the course. I recall his brash treatment of me when I messed up a shot. He didn’t mince words then.

We part at our cars, promising to catch up after the holidays. I hurry back across town and over the bridge to the farm, hoping my mother hasn’t left for her appointment at the lawyer’s yet. She might change her mind to let me go with her. When I pull in, I discover her car is gone, as well as Robert’s truck. The flag is down on the mailbox. It’s early for the mail but I check it anyway.

I pull out a stack of bills and flip through them until my hand stops on a formal looking letter addressed to me—from Florida.

 

****

 

The letter about Mattie comes on the same day my mother files for a divorce, gets her first job, and I reject Drew.

When my mother returns from her appointments, she is whistling. I think it’s a Christmas jingle. She tosses her bag on the counter and joins me at the kitchen table where the letter lies open in front of me.

“I’m employed,” she says. “I actually have a job where someone is going to pay me for my work.” A smile wreathes her face—the biggest one I’ve seen in ages. The smile takes years off her appearance. She doesn’t even play with her fingers as she tells me, like she normally would when she’s talking. My mother is confident, and I admit this change surprises me. “Are you going to ask me where?”

“Yes! Where? I’m so proud of you.”

“The Brighter Boutique. They opened before Christmas and did well with the crowd of ladies my age. The owner told me I would be perfect because I am friendly and can wear the styles. I even get a 20 percent discount. Can you believe that? I start next Monday at nine o’clock and work until five. What a perfect shift. I’ll be home to make supper, but then you could get something going for us since Robert might still be in classes.” She stands and retrieves her purse, rummaging through it. She pulls out a sheaf of papers. “I have to fill these out for my first day. They actually will pay part of my health benefits. Can you believe that?”

“Wow. You lucked out, Mom. I’m so happy for you. How much will they pay you?”

My question stills her. “We didn’t even discuss that. I guess I should have asked, but with benefits it must be more than minimum wage. You would think so, wouldn’t you?”

She’s more naïve than I thought. “You should probably call and find out. I would if I were you.”

“Yes, I guess that’s a good idea.” Her eyes drift toward the window. “I thought I asked everything.”

“How did it go at the lawyer’s? Did Dad show up?”

She sits back down and puts her purse to the side. A look of firm determination appears. “We agreed to everything. I should have known we would. It’s been coming for years. We were ready.”

“What about this place, Mom? Is he making you sell?” I hate to press for details but I must know.

She turns her head slowly back to me. “There isn’t any choice. It’s half his. I stopped by a real estate office on my way home.” She seems to realize I’m here and reaches across the table to grab my hand. “It’ll be OK. We can find something cute. We’ll sell stuff we don’t need, like some of my good dishes and Grandpa’s chair and my sewing machine…” She stops, a sob cutting off her words. “I’m sorry,” she says and rushes out of the room leaving me with my letter.

I want to tell her about the letter. I fold it in half and tuck it in my fist, instead. I’ll show it to Robert when he gets home. He’ll know what to do about Mattie and her decision.

 

****

 

The real estate agent comes to our house the next morning after breakfast. I haven’t had the chance yet to talk with Robert because last night he was out with friends. The agent is nice, although she looks like she should be working in a fashion design studio instead of in northeast Pennsylvania. Her boots come to her knees, and her coat is made of brown wool. Around her neck, she’s draped an argyle scarf.

“Let’s take a tour of the place so I can give you comps later and we’ll know how to price it.” She carries her clipboard as my mother leads her upstairs through our bedrooms and back downstairs to the cellar.

I debate following them outside and instead watch from the window as they stumble around the barn and garage, my mother’s arms waving from her side as she talks about each place. I wonder if she’s telling the story of when I fell out of the tree by the back of the garage. I skinned my leg up pretty badly—so bad it demanded a trip to the ER. Or is she telling her about the pond up back and how we spent so many winters ice skating there? I squeeze my hands together.

I remember the letter from the lawyer who asked me to call him. I still don’t understand why—part of me is afraid it’s because I was the one who found Mattie. Maybe I’m being sued by her daughter? She seemed so nice and grateful to find the journal. I wait in the living room, propping my feet on the coffee table. Shortly, my mother and Greta—what a name!—return and start filling out listing papers.

“I don’t need comps, but I’ll send you some. I think you could ask two hundred and fifty thousand for this place and get it.” She beams like she did my mother this great service.

My mother sits next to me with the pen in her hand.

“Your husband will have to sign these, too, since you mentioned he owns half of this property. Would you get him to sign or do you want me to stop by his office?”

“Please if you don’t mind. Stop by the office.”

I nod. The less my mother has to see him the better.

When they finish, Greta shakes our hands and leaves by the back door as though she’s a close friend already. I don’t care for her, but say nothing since Mom chose her.

“Want a cup of tea?” I pick up the tea kettle.

“I think I’m going to take a nap, if you don’t mind. I’m worn out.”

My mother never takes naps, but she does today for over two hours. During that time, I work up my courage to contact the legal office on the letterhead. Harvey Brandshaw, Esq. Orlando.

“May I speak to Attorney Brandshaw, please? He sent me a letter recently concerning Mattie Montrose.”

Elevator music comes through the phone as I wait. I tap my fingers to the tune, almost forgetting why I called.

“May I help you?” A man’s voice booms at me. I pull the phone away from my ear. I explain who I am and why I’m calling.

“Ahh, dear Mattie. She was one special lady, wasn’t she? When she came to me not long ago to change her will, I was in shock, but then she told me about you and how you had touched her heart. She wanted to help you in some small way and now she has.”

“What do you mean? Are you talking about the necklace because if you want it back I can mail it to you.” I finger the club, praying he doesn’t want it.

He chuckles in an entirely different tone than he talked.

I like him better now. I’ve chosen to call from the TV room and monitor the doorway for my mother. She’s gotten up, but said she was running to the grocery store. I don’t want her walking in on me as I speak.

“Not at all. Mattie had other plans for you. She was a sweet one, wasn’t she?”

“I liked her.” I wish he’d get to the point and explain if I was going to jail or not. I cross my ankles, then my fingers. I change my mind and shoot up a fast prayer. By now, my stomach is doing flips and I wish I’d drunk tea, anyway. Not the soda I’d opted for.

“Well, Miss Bobbi. Do you mind if I call you that? Today is a life-changing day for you. Miss Mattie asked that after her passing, I get in touch with you to let you know she left you money from her estate.”

“Her estate? I thought her estate was the contents of the trailer.” I picture the packed boxes of photos and trinkets that went to charity.

“Oh, no. Quite the opposite. She amassed a large estate. From that, she’s left you the sum of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Shall we mail the check to your home address or would you rather direct deposit?”

The phone slips from my fingers. I pick it back up. “Direct deposit, please.”