Page 87 of Crazy for You
At least Dad had signed them. Hopefully, they would show up.But what if they don’t?“Is that why you’re here?” I asked Aunt Clara, willing the nausea to go away.
She clasped her long fingers in her lap. “No. I’d just landed in New York from a business trip when I got Nan’s call. Instead of flying back to California, I thought I would stop here.”
Okay, not so bad. But I wasn’t ready to celebrate just yet. “So what happens now?” If Mr. Wilson didn’t have the documents, Aunt Clara was still named as my guardian.
“Mr. Wilson is out of town,” Nan said, losing some of the nerves in her tone. “He isn’t returning until midweek. His assistant is checking his mail and will keep an eye out for it. In the meantime, we just have to wait until he returns.”
“No need to panic,” Aunt Clara said calmly. “We’ll work through this.”
I liked her confidence. The last time I saw her, she’d been snooty to me.
“Dad told me with your job, you couldn’t take care of me. Right?” Hopefully, she wasn’t about to change her mind.
She smiled warmly. “I really wanted to help my brother. After all, it would only be nine months until you turn eighteen. Still, with my new promotion I’m on a plane six days a week. That means you would be by yourself, and that isn’t going to work. Nan seems like a great person to step into the role as your guardian.”
“Does that mean you’re not going to change your mind?” If we couldn’t find the trust documents, I was concerned that none of us would have a choice.
“Let’s see what Mr. Wilson advises, Skye,” Nan said.
I had to believe we could work it out. “This is my senior year, and I want to graduate with my friends.” I figured one last-ditch effort to make my wishes clear couldn’t hurt.
Aunt Clara rose elegantly, smoothing her hand down her black slacks. “I haven’t slept. Planes are horrible to get any rest. I’m staying in town.”
Nan held out her arm. “I’ll walk you out. Let’s have dinner tomorrow night and chat some more.”
Once I was alone, I dropped onto the bed, puffing out air.
I’d hardly had a chance to think when Nan returned. “I’m so sorry, Skye.” She sat next to me. “I mailed the documents. I should’ve dropped them off at Mr. Wilson’s office. But I had a ton of things to do that day.”
I placed a hand on her trembling leg. “It’s not your fault.” I couldn’t blame her. “What do you think will happen, though?” I examined my nails, deciding which one to gnaw on first. All ten of them were horrible and extremely short, unlike my friends’—they had pretty, manicured nails.
“That the envelope will finally show up at Mr. Wilson’s office. I did ask him what would happen if he doesn’t receive them. But he couldn’t talk. He was catching a flight. He just told me not to worry. So that’s what I’m trying to do. I want you to do the same.”
My pinky won, and I stuck it in my mouth. “I’ll try. You don’t think Aunt Clara is here for money, do you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t think so. When I called to let her know your dad passed, I informed her of the missing documents. I figured she ought to know just in case. She did ask me if the funeral would be anytime this week. I think she just wanted to see you and pay her respects.”
“She seemed sad about Dad.”
“She also seems nice,” Nan said.
“I’m not moving.”
Nan circled her fingers around my wrist and gently lowered my hand from my mouth to my lap. “You won’t have any nails left.”
Maybe once the situation was resolved, I could get my nails done. Georgia would be more than happy to be my manicurist.
“One other thing,” Nan said. “When we speak with Mr. Wilson, should we broach the subject of your birth mother to see if he’s located her yet? That is, if you want to reach out to her.”
I tensed. “Are you trying to get rid of me?” I was half teasing.
For the second time in a matter of thirty minutes, her skin turned ashen. “God, no. But it’s still the elephant in the room, so to speak. I’m just saying it might be a good time to ask him while we have his attention.”
“Maybe it’s time I deal with it.” That way, I could move on.
35
Later that day, I propped myself up with my back against my headboard, holding Dad’s computer in my lap. Nan had advised me that if I was serious about knowing more about my birth mom, I should send Mr. Wilson an email. I’d had the afternoon to think, and I’d decided to take the plunge. I knew Dad would have wanted me to meet her—I’d gotten that feeling after he’d dropped the news in my lap. More importantly, I had questions for her, and I didn’t want to go through life with any regrets.
