Humiliation and embarrassment wobbled through me as I met them at the door. I wanted to distance myself from the chaos of this place, but shame made me bite my tongue. My mother had lifelong problems I didn’t understand. I doubted the volunteers from the shelter would, either, and they probably didn’t care. I swallowed the grief of my loss, and Mom’s. Then I opened the door.
“Hi,” I said, forcing hospitality into my tone. “Thank you for coming. Let me show you where I’ve set everything on the back patio. You can drive the truck alongside the house to shorten your path.”
One of the men turned back for the truck. The other shook my hand. “I’m Albert, and we’re grateful for every donation. Thank you so much for giving us a call.”
My throat tightened. I nodded and led him to the patio.
By the time the sun set, the living room was scrubbed and empty, the carpet drying after my second pass with the steamer. I found a pearl necklace inside one of Mom’s tchotchkes and a watch that I guessed was worth thousands. I had an appointment to see a jewelry appraiser in the morning. One way or another, I would pay off the property taxes and keep this house.
The air on the first floor smelled of cleansers and hope as I admired my work. I, however, smelled like a swamp monster. So I headed for the shower.
I dumped my things into the first-floor bathroom and started the water, then returned to the kitchen for a bottle of sweet tea from the fridge. I checked the mousetraps, both wishing I would and would not find mice in them. I didn’t want the creatures in the house, but I had no idea what to do if I caught them.
Was I supposed to set them free outside? That seemed silly. Wouldn’t they just walk right back in?
I returned to the bathroom a moment later and peeled sweaty clothes from my achy frame. I raked tangles from ratty hair and took one more drink of sweet tea before stepping under the impressive spray.
The shock hit my system like a baseball bat.
“Cold! Fuck!”
My feet slid on the wet tile floor as I bounced and leaped to safety. My heart pounded, and my skin pebbled. I gripped the sink’s edge to steady myself, then cranked the hot water and flushed the toilet. A few moments later, the shower warmed to tepid.
I took the fastest shower possible, dried off, and left a voicemail on a local plumber’s answering machine requesting he stop by to take a look at the situation as soon as possible. Then I trudged across the lawn to my bed inside the trailer, Mom’s photo albums and notebooks tucked beneath one crooked arm.
Raisin stayed at the house.
The next few days followed a similar pattern, except Ilona began visiting after breakfast and staying through lunch. We marked items for the upcoming yard sale and reminisced about the days when I ran wild in the neighborhood.
The jewelry I found, along with a small check from a joint account with Robert, was enough to appease the county auditor and keep my property off the auction block. I still had to deal with the utility-shutoff notices, but I was counting my wins where I found them.
My phone buzzed, and I stilled to check the screen.
“That’s not Robert, is it?” Alicia asked. She stopped by frequently, as promised, and helped any way she could. Her presence alone meant everything to me.
Ilona made a sour face.
“No.” I shook my head. “He’s pretending I don’t exist. This looks like an order for the Invisible Baker.” I had the calls forwarded from my other phone, now that I no longer had a reason to hide them. I opened the message and skimmed. “Someone wants to place an order for a coworker’s birthday. Thirty-six mini vanilla layer cakes for the staff lounge.”
My friends and I looked to Mom’s newly cleaned kitchen.
“I can’t bake here,” I said. “I still haven’t caught that mouse. Gives me the ick knowing it’s still running free. That’s a health code violation for sure, right?”
Alicia wrinkled her nose. “No luck with the traps?”
“No, but I also plugged in some things I found in the spare bedroom that claim to emit sounds to keep pests away. Maybe they worked?”
Alicia didn’t look convinced. “Well, you can always use my kitchen, and I’m glad to help.”
“Same offer,” Ilona said. “But why not use your other kitchen?”
I glanced through the back window. “The trailer?”
“No,” she said. “The one in that mini mansion of yours.”
“Oh, sure,” I said. “Robert would love that.”
Alicia straightened. “It’s still half your house, no matter what that butthead says. You moved out, but you’re allowed to be there. Right? Is there something in the paperwork from your hearing that says you’re not?”
