Page 44 of How to Love Your Neighbor
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Grace fiddled with her 3D design program, moving furniture around. She’d been able to plug in her dimensions to basically re-create her home. Her teacher had told her about a student laptop buy-as-you-go option through the school. It wasn’t the top end but it was far better than what she’d had and could actually run the programs. She couldn’t afford to make all of the changes, definitely couldn’t afford the furniture all at once, but seeing it, even on a screen, infused her with energy. Drive. She wanted this. She’d work her ass off until she got it.
She was averaging a pretty good Noah ratio today, about three-to-one. Three thoughts about something else, one about him. It was better than the night before, reliving the feel of his mouth and dreaming about more. When she’d woken up with his name on her lips, she’d had a firm talk with herself, a reminder of what she was working toward. Noah was not part of her picket fence, two-point-five-children, happily-ever-after plan. A man like that… how many places did he own? This was the first he’d actually hung on to.
She wanted a man who held on. Someone she could hold onto when the storms blew. Her mother had spent her life looking for the right man to make her feel good about herself, to help her achieve whatever she wanted to achieve in any given moment. She used men like a crutch, solidifying Grace’s determination to make it on her own before sharing her life with someone else. That someone else, whoever he ended up being, would be her equal. Someone who assumed shecouldhandle a hammer rather than being surprised by it.
As she poured her coffee, the best possible incentive for staying on track sat, mocking her. She grabbed the letter from her mother and tore it open.
One hand clutched the envelope while the other shook slightly.
Grace,
You never return my texts. I get that you’re probably mad at me. What kid doesn’t grow up mad at their parents? Maybe now you understand me a little better. I guess this is some kind of karmic kick in the ass for walking out on my parents. But I had a reason. You don’t. I never tried to hold you back from anything.
I don’t want to be alone my whole life. I have no one. Really, neither do you. I’m your family. Maybe I didn’t get that before but I do now. I could come out there. I know you’re living in my parents’ house. The house that should have been mine. There’s no point in me paying rent on the trailer when I should be there, too. I have every right no matter what some stupid lawyer says.
Taking care of you until you were old enough to do it yourself made things hard on me. I couldn’t do the things I wanted to do to have a better life with a kid hanging on my hip. I think that warrants a little compassion on your part. Or, at least, a place to stay. I never wanted to go back to California but if that’s where you’re going to be, that’s where I want to be, too. We could try to fix our relationship. Try to make things better. Think about it. Maybe text me back sometime so I don’t have to mail you letters like we live in another century.
Mom
Grace crumpled the letter, tossed it onto the counter. Her breaths sawed in and out rapidly. Gripping the counter, she closed her eyes, forced herself through the alphabet. Bym, ironically, she was calmer.
Some things never changed. Tammy Travis was one of them. Passive-aggressive bullshit that ultimately laid all of the blame at Grace’s feet.
When Grace had been notified about her grandparents’ passing and the will, her mother hadn’t been mentioned at all. Grace was already in California at the time. She had no idea if her mother had been notified, but clearly she knew Grace had inherited the house.
The letter served its purpose; her priorities were back on track. School, graduate, job, and then she could think about a man. One who would complement her life, not confuse it.
“Enough,” she said, pushing back from the table. No dwelling. She had plans for today. She went out the back door, noticing that Noah had someone working on his palm trees. In her shed, which needed fixing, she grabbed some gloves and gardening tools. She was going to plant his apologies.
Going back through the house, grabbing a bottle of water on the way, she bit back a scream when she opened the door and came face-to-face with a stranger.
He was tall with dark hair, good bone structure, and a decent physique. Attractive. Grace immediately decided he didn’t have a serial-killer vibe, which was backed up by the fact that he didn’t bite backhisscream.
Grace laughed. He pressed a hand to his chest.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Damn. That scared the hell out of me.”
“Same. Can I help you?”
“Do you know CPR?” He grinned, his dark eyes joining in.
“You’re still breathing so I think it’d be a bad idea.”
“Good point. Okay. Let’s try this again. Are you Grace?”
He might not be a killer but she was still standing in front of a strange man who was a foot taller than she was,alone.
“Who wants to know?”
“Me. I’m your housewarming gift.” He spread his arms wide. His thin jacket opened, revealing a pale gray T-shirt and, fortunately, no guns or shady weapons. Maybe a little conceited but still no killer vibe.
“Excuse me?”
“Just introduce yourself already before she knees you in the goodies. I taught her how, you know,” Morty said, coming up behind her “gift.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “You did not.” She looked at the guy. “But I do know how.”
