“Ivy!” My mom’s voice drifted through the closed door.
“Yeah?”
“Your cell is ringing!” She pushed my door open and poked her head in. “Do you want me to get it?”
I smiled at her. “Yes, please. It’s probably Ryder.”
I listened to her take the call as I finished primping in the mirror. Although, I used that term loosely. My jeans were of the artfully torn variety. They had holes in them from my thighs to knees. My Chucks were new, but hopefully would break in soon. My cable knit sweater was a little too big, a little too hipster and a little too teal. I loved it.
I’d piled my hair on top of my head in an elaborate messy bun and I’d just finished my make-up- a few swipes of mascara and a layer of colored Chapstick.
This was the new me. This was my style. Or at least my style for today.
Tomorrow I might go for an entirely different look.
Or naked.
The best part was that it was up to me. Nobody got a second opinion. Not even Ryder.
Not that he would try to give me one. He was just happy when I wore a smile.
“Honey, it’s Mallory Hunter.” My mom held out the phone to me. “She says she has good news.” She gave me a confused look, but I had no idea what the lawyer Smith hired to advocate my case once upon a time could possibly want.
I took the phone and held it to my ear. “Hello?” I asked carefully. Mallory was from a part of my life I chose not to remember these days. I couldn’t imagine what she wanted now, after all of this time.
“Hi, Ivy,” she greeted in her usual brisk tone. “How are you?”
I looked at my reflection in the mirror again and didn’t hate it or myself. “I’m okay,” I told her. And I meant it.
I was okay.
I was more than okay.
She didn’t say anything for a few seconds. She seemed to need to absorb my words and weigh their honesty. Finally, and softer, she said, “I’m glad to hear that.” I waited for her to get to the point. “Anyway, I’m calling because I have some good news for you.”
“Good news?”
“Yes, it’s about your trust. I’ve been working on it for a few months now, but I’m finally starting to make headway. There were some holdups because I can’t seem to find a death certificate. Apparently there isn’t one.”
“A death certificate?” The air had been sucked from my lungs.
“For a Mr. Nix,” she explained casually. “Your trust had been transferred into his care last year, but now that you’re eighteen you should have full rights to it. Apparently he died sometime over the summer, but nobody can prove that. I’ve had to use some creative lawyering.”
I let out a nervous chuckle. “Right. Creative lawyering.”
“Anyway, the money should be available to you in a few weeks. I just wanted to call and give you the good news.”
I was so stunned that I couldn’t speak for a full minute. “Thank you,” I finally said. I had completely forgotten about my trust. Or at least given up on it. I had never expected to see that money and that had been okay with me.
Even though it was a trust set up for me by my father, by a man I had come to learn was good and funny and sometimes sweet, I had assumed that money had dissolved into Nix’s wealth and was forever out of my reach. This was a pleasant surprise.
“I’m sorry if this has come as a surprise,” she said patiently. “I was under the impression you were still in contact with Smith Porter.”
“I am. Well, kind of.”
“Right. Well, I’ll be in touch in a week or so to get the details of the account you’d like to use. I just wanted to share the good news.”
I felt a sudden surge of gratitude for this woman who had been working behind the scenes in my life for so long. This was our first victory, but it was the only one I needed from her now. Everything else had been taken care of. “Thank you, Mallory. Thank you for not giving up on it.”
