Don’t cry.Branna gritted her teeth and nodded.
“I need you to sign a few things, and then you can be on your way to Georgie’s cottage. I hope you plan to stay?” His eyes were gentle and kind, and Branna saw he was genuine in his enquiry.
“I-I hope to stay awhile, but my plans are unsure at this stage.”
“Georgie had some money invested that will come to you also—the details are in here—plus her Mustang, Geraldine, of course.”
Branna had been looking at the papers on his desk, but at hearing the word Mustang, her head shot up. “She told me she sold the Mustang!”
Mr. Cooper laughed again.
“That 1966 Mustang belonged to her beloved husband, Dan, Ms. O’Donnell. No way in hell, if you’ll excuse me for cussing, would she ever part with it. She kept it locked in that big shed behind her house.”
Branna knew where it had been kept; she’d polished it, driven it, and learned to change a tire on Geraldine, just as she’d learned a whole heap of other life lessons at the hands of Georgie May Brown.
They talked a bit more about the will, Branna asking questions that she thought she should, but fatigue was making her head a bit dizzy. Make that fatigue and a bit of shock over the fact that her dear friend had left her the house, money, and Geraldine.
“Well, that about wraps it up, Ms. O’Donnell. You need anything, you just drop by.” Mr. Cooper stood and accompanied her back out to the reception area.
“You hand those keys over now, Penny, and Ms. O’Donnell can be on her way,” he added, stopping beside the other woman’s desk. “I’ll be seeing you around.” He shook Branna’s hand again and went back into his office.
“I’ll walk you down, Branna. I need to get Mr. Cooper a mystery muffin for his afternoon snack.” Penny handed over a bunch of keys, and then made for the door with Branna on her heels.
Branna let Penny chat as they walked back down the stairs and out onto the street. Her mind trying to process everything she’d just learned.
“Hey, watch out!”
Branna turned at the cry from Penny and saw a bike heading toward her. The boy tried to swerve, but it was too late. It hit her, knocking her off her feet. Her left hand hit the concrete first and then her head. She must have blacked out, because when she opened her eyes, Penny Bilks was staring down at her.
“Stop, stay down, Branna. We need to get Dr. McBride here to look at you.” Penny tried to stop her from rising.
Hell no.Ignoring the vicious pain in her wrist and head, Branna regained her feet.
“It’s okay. I’m all right.”
“You’re bleeding.” Penny steadied her as she wobbled. “You need to see a doctor now.”
The boy whose bicycle had hit her didn’t seem hurt. He picked it up and moved toward her.
“Michael Tucker, how many times have you been told not to ride your bike on the sidewalk!” Penny snapped at him.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Bilks. Is she okay?”
“I’m fine, really,” Branna added, as he looked doubtful. She slowly pulled out of Penny’s grip. “No need to fuss, Penny.” Backing away from them, Branna reached her van, and then with a final wave, she climbed in. Forcing a smile onto her face, she managed to back out and direct the car out of town before she let out a long painful moan.
“Mother of God, that hurts,” Branna hissed briefly, looking at her wrist. It had started to swell, and her head was throbbing so much her vision felt blurred.
Heading through town, Branna passed the bus stop she’d spent three years of her life waiting at every morning, the park that was used for any occasion that warranted it, and then headed along the lake. She passed cabins and houses. The bulk of Howlers lived in a cluster to the right of the main street, spread backward and up into the hills. Ten minutes from town, the houses had thinned until she reached a left turn that led her down a narrow road. With another right turn, she headed parallel to the lake, and minutes later, she was driving slowly up the old gravel drive that led to Georgie’s house.Not Georgie’s, yours.
The house was down a long driveway with overgrown trees on both sides and huge towering redwoods at its rear. Reaching the end, Branna rubbed at the knot of emotion in her chest as she saw the small weatherboard cottage the color of gingerbread, trimmed in white. Parking the van, she took a moment to just look at the place that, for so many years, had housed the one person she loved to distraction.
“Come here, Branna love, come and heal all the hurts inside you. Find peace, and happiness will follow. My soul will rest easy knowing my home is now yours, Branna, and know that I will be there to share it with you.”Georgie had left these words in a letter to Branna, a letter that also told her she had inherited the house.
Georgie May Brown had been one of the two people that kept her sane when she’d lived here. At Georgie’s hand, she had learned so much more than her love of writing. Here, she had learned life skills.
Grabbing her purse, while trying not to use her sore arm, she let herself out of the van and then made her way onto the front porch. The two chairs she and Georgie had sat in for hours were still there. Fumbling around for the keys in her bag, she found them and opened the door. Her hand shook as she placed it flat on the wooden surface and pushed it wide, then walked into a room full of memories.
Everything was how she remembered it, right down to the lace doilies scattered around the arms and backs of the furniture. She walked slowly from room to room, trying to ignore the thumping in her head, and when it got too much, she found Georgie’s medicine supplies and swallowed a couple of Advil.
