“I still have my YouTube page,” I said carefully, watching her reaction. “And I’ve been outlining a cookbook.”
She blinked, then smiled, her voice warming. “You really do make those recipes look easy.” And then she laughed lightly. “When you’re not dumping them on people’s heads, that is.”
The tiniest laugh slipped out of me, too. It was a compliment. I will take this as a compliment.
“So,” I said, “from now on, I just need you to let me screw up sometimes. Without acting like the world’s going to fall apart if I do. Even if you don’t understand my choices. Just trust me. Support me. That’s all.”
She didn’t cry. Just blinked once, then looked toward the ceiling like she needed a second to collect herself.
“I can do that,” she whispered.
I leaned in and wrapped my arms around her carefully, mindful of her hip. Even though it was awkward.
“I’m sorry,” she said, voice muffled. “About the thing with Babs. I shouldn’t have told her to lie to you.”
I pulled back just enough to look at her. “No. You shouldn’t have.”
“She didn’t mean to hurt you. She’s a good soul, you know.”
I knew that. Because, of course, she was! “I’ll talk to her. I think I can forgive her.”
She exhaled.
“Oh, and everything’s been handled at the station,” I said, trying to lighten the mood with some good news. “They’re actually killing the show, and there will be no more bad publicity.” Not unless Leo wanted even more trouble. But I’d tell her those details some other time. “And once you’re feeling better, I’ll start looking for a new apartment.” It wouldn’t be fair for me to leave everything to Ashley again. But… “After that, I want to start fresh. I’m actually kind of excited about it.”
This heart-to-heart was a really good beginning, but I couldn’t just live with my mom forever.
“Ah, I might be able to help with that.” She grabbed her cane, and with a groan, she pushed out of her chair and began hobbling toward the kitchen.
“You don’t need to?—”
“Grab my papers, will you?” She pointed to one of the cupboards, where I pulled down an old file box.
She thumbed through the files while I stood there, half curious, half skeptical. I mean, hadn’t we just agreed I was capable of handling my own problems?
“Maybe you don’t need to find an apartment.” She thumbed through the box while I just stood there, confused.
“What do you mean?”
But then she pulled out a folder, labeled Mantunuck, and my heart skipped a beat.
“I know this place means a lot to you,” she said, holding it out for me to take.
It was a deed.
To Gran’s house.
“We had it updated after Gran passed—before we put it for rent,” she said, “We’ve had tenants in and out until recently. But I know she’d have wanted you to have it. Your dad and I were just waiting for the right time.”
I stared down at it and just shook my head. It was too much.
“What about Ashley?”
“Ashley doesn’t mind. We actually talked about it while you were away. She says that she and Beckett make more than enough for them, and they’re happy in the house they have now. If it makes you feel better, though, I told her she can have this one after I go.” She was watching me carefully, a little warily. I’d usually resent being left out of such an important conversation, but I thought I could maybe let this one slide.
Still though.
“It’s too much.” Gran’s house was a beachfront property. And even though it had been built in the sixties, it was probably worth right around a million dollars in today’s market.
