Page 17 of Find Me in California

“Best you remember that. Go back to bed.”

“Yes, Grandmother Holloway.” Matt fled to his room. He didn’t fall back to sleep that night, not even with the light on. And it would be years before he could stomach sleeping in the dark. While the nightmares eventually ceased, the headaches stuck around.

The phone trills loudly, startling Matt. He lunges to answer, pulling himself together. “Matt Gatlin.”

“Mr. Gatlin, hello. This is Lenore Pullen with Rosemont Assisted Living and Memory Care. I understand you’ve been trying to reach me.”

Matt paces the room. “Yes. About Elizabeth Holloway, my grandmother. I got the boxes you guys sent. What’s going on with her?”

“Have you spoken with Mrs. Holloway?”

“No.” Nor does he want to. He’d prefer to coordinate the logistics without involving her. He grips the back of his neck. “I understand she’s broke and you’re evicting her in a few days. Her power of attorney is missing? What’s up with that?”

There’s a pause on her end. “How do you know this if you haven’t spoken with her?”

His face scrunches up. Way to throw Julia under the bus. After last night’s call he was already oh for two with her on first impressions.

He changes the subject. “Why is my grandmother there? Does she have dementia or something?”

“Tell you what, Mr. Gatlin. There’s a lot we need to discuss. Mrs. Holloway has you listed as her secondary power of attorney. I have the paperwork right here. Is it possible you can come in and discuss this with your grandmother and me?”

“I’m in New Mexico.”

“A video conference, then.”

“Let me be frank. I leave for France on Thursday. I’m also on deadline for another project. So, no, I can’t come in, and I don’t have time to video conference and hash this out with you guys, especially with her. How about I wire money to cover her expenses until I get back, and then we can figure this out?”

“I wish it were that simple. Rosemont has a waiting list. We’re at capacity, and we’ve already signed a contract with another party for her room. I don’t have space available for her after the thirtieth. She has to be moved out. Trust me, I’d keep her with us if I could. I don’t like evicting residents.”

“You just kick them to the curb,” he snaps.

“Again, Mr. Gatlin—”

“For Chrissake, call me Matt.” Mr. Gatlin was his dad.

“Matt.” Her tone implies she’s calling on her patience. “I insist you speak with Mrs. Holloway. You have a lot to coordinate within the next few days.”

“Fine, put her on,” he says in a clipped tone, seeing no way out other than hanging up and abandoning his grandmother to her fate.

“One moment.” Lenore puts him on hold only to get back on the line a minute later. “Well, this is an interesting development.”

“Now what?”

“She won’t speak with you—”

“Knew it.”

“—over the phone. She will face-to-face. In person. Apparently, she has something important to discuss with you.”

Why that conniving, manipulative ... “Did she say what about?”

“Only that it has to do with your mother. I suggest you hurry, Matt. You’ll want to get here before we ‘kick her to the curb.’”

Matt pulls the phone from his ear and rages at the room.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

What could she possibly have to tell him about his mom that she couldn’t have shared with him years ago?

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