Trudy wipes her eyes, collecting herself.
“Go on, Trudy,” Ron says.
“My son, Ted, and daughter-in-law, Laura, are in England with my grandson this semester. Ted is a professor at Ohio State...”
“They have professors there?” I ask.
Ava chuckles. Trudy ignores me.
“...and he’s teaching a study abroad semester. My grandson is a sophomore at OSU, and he went with them. Ava was staying with me and Ralph, and we were planning to see them in London over this winter break. Ava came home from school last week and found Ralph dead in his favorite chair.” The tears begin anew. “My kids couldn’t make it home, and I just couldn’t take the trip without Ralph, so we had a small funeral, and I didn’t know where else to turn. I just had to get out of that empty house. I saw him everywhere.”
Trudy collapses into a realReal Housewivesweep fest. Ron puts his arm around her, and I try not to roll my eyes. Ava watches the scene without emotion as if she’s behind a wall of glass. I’m not buying any of this bad acting.
“So you came to Palm Springs on winter break to see a brother you haven’t spoken to in decades and despise more than Obama, because your husband died and you were sad to be home alone?” I ask. “Oh, and you wanted to tell me about some money you invested fifty years ago? I’m sorry for your loss. Truly, I am, but I am still not buying a word of it.”
“He did die,” Ava says, voice low. “That’s all true.”
Ava glances at me, and I try to read her eyes behind all that dark eyeliner and attitude.
“Ralph’s estate requires that I divide the money I inherited from Mama and Daddy’s house,” Trudy says. “The money was placed into a joint account with both of our names.”
My eyes grow wide. “Why would Ralph do that?” I ask.
“He didn’t do that, Teddy. I did. It just happened to be in his name, like everything else.” She continues. “But our attorney—like us—is on winter break right now with his grandchildren.”
“Who’s your attorney?” I ask. “Matlock? Do we have to show up at a courthouse in Savannah and sign papers under a magnolia tree? There’s a thing called Docusign.”
“He’s out of the office until the end of the week,” Trudy says.
“Of course he is,” I say. “And I’m Timothée Chalamet.”
“Maybe Timothée Shallow-gay,” Ava says.
Barry laughs, hard. “I like you.”
“She bites,” I say with a wink.
“And, remember, I’ve always loved you, Teddy,” Barry adds.
“You’re not getting a cent, Barry. You still owe me twenty dollars. With interest.” I turn to Trudy. “Get a hotel, and we can talk in a week, okay?”
“Hold on. This is my house, too, Teddy,” Ron says. “I’m putting my foot down! They can stay. As my guests. I insist. Sometimes a person should be given grace when they’re trying to make amends. At least Trudy is trying.” Ron shoots each of us a calculated look. “Trudy and Ava can have my room. I can move onto the sleeper sofa out here.”
“Ron—”
“Teddy,” he warns. “And I have another suggestion, Trudy. Why don’t you stay for church?”
He is simply trying to agitate me now.
“Yougo to church?” Trudy gasps.
“We do,” Ron adds sweetly. “And after we eat and all feel better, maybe Teddy will come around and agree with me that you should stay the week to rest a bit.” Ron eyes me as he does when he prays, urging me to be calm and present. “I’m sure you’re exhausted from your loss and the travel.”
“I will never forgive you,” I say to Ron.
“Yes, you will.”
“Can I get in the pool?” Ava asks.
