Page 8 of Leave It to Us
Every aspect of this scenario had tipped the scales on the already precarious situation her life was in. She gritted her teeth—something she did only when she was stressed—and searched for some level of calm to at least get through this lunch with her sisters. The three didn’t get together like this often enough, each of them busy with their own lives—or busy trying to stayoutof each other’s lives. It hadn’t always been that way, but the last few years, and then Mama’s illness, had put a strain on what Lana had assumed was a normal love-hate relationship between sisters.
“And for you, ma’am?” asked the server, who looked like she was no more than eighteen or nineteen years old. Lana hated being calledma’am. She wasn’t old enough for that yet. Then again, looking at this girl—with her black lipstick, ear gauges, and ink-black hair and nails—Lana definitelyfeltold.
“Cheese fries and a fresh water with lemon,” she said, and held her menu out for the server to take.
“I call dibs on some of your fries,” Tami said when the server walked away.
Yvonne gave her a deadpan stare, but Lana scowled. “Fries are also carbs, Tami.”
“That’s why I didn’t order them,” Tami said. “Now, back to the houses. I think we should all pack our bags and head down to the island. For one, it would be like old times, and for two, it’s what GrandmaBetty wanted us to do. And if we couldn’t continue our summer trips to make her happy when she was alive, I think the next best thing to do is carry out her last wishes to the absolute detail.”
Yvonne sat back in her chair and stared at Tami. Lana couldn’t help it; she glared at Tami too.
Eventually—after a few moments—the corners of Yvonne’s mouth turned up, and her eyes narrowed. “Did you quit or get fired this time?” she asked Tami.
Lana waited for Tami’s response. She could not keep a job. For whatever reason, it just never worked out for her. Lana had actually started to believe that her baby sister was allergic to working.
Folding her arms over her chest, Tami sat back with a huff and then pouted. This child was twenty-nine years old and still pouting like she was three. Lana rolled her eyes so hard she felt a headache coming on.
“I didn’t go to college and apply for a management position to be told I had to substitute in the infant classroom and change shitty diapers,” Tami quipped. “I don’t have any kids, and I’m not cleaning up after anyone else’s.”
Yvonne sighed. “So you quit.”
“What other choice did I have?” Tami asked.
“Work until you find something better, for one,” Lana replied. “But this is an old conversation that I do not feel like having.”
“Same,” Yvonne replied wryly. “So since you have time on your hands and will probably need a place to live because you don’t have a paycheck to pay any of your bills, you can go on down to the island and babysit the renovations—”
“Wait,” Lana interrupted. “Renovations are going to take too long. Why can’t we sell as is?”
Tami made an annoyed face. “Because that’s not what the will says. We—all three of us—have to go to the island and, as you call it, ‘babysit the renovations.’ And then we—all three of us—have to figure out what to do with the house.”
“We’re selling the house,” Lana said.
“Exactly,” Yvonne added. “And each of us will put up a certain amount from our proceeds to get Mama’s house renovated to accommodate the ramp, bathroom, and kitchen changes she requires.”
“I thought you were going to see if you could cash in one of her insurance policies to get that work done.” It was a discussion they’d had months ago, after Yvonne had sent them both an angry email. Lana suspected that it had been Yvonne’s attempt to avoid an in-person argument, but an online argument had ensued instead.
“And then we start a GoFundMe when it’s time to come up with burial expenses? No thank you,” Yvonne replied.
“You’re putting her in the grave right behind Grandma Betty, huh?” Tami asked.
Yvonne slammed a hand on the table. “No. I’m thinking ahead, planning for the future—something I know is a foreign concept to you.”
“Here’s your martini,” their server said when she returned and extended the glass to Tami, who had just sat up in her chair, ready to go in on Yvonne. “And your pink lemonade and your water with lemon.”
Lana picked up her glass and immediately took a gulp. Just as Yvonne and Tami did the same.
“I should’ve gotten something stronger,” she quipped.
“You and me both,” Yvonne said while Tami took another sip from her glass and did a little shimmy that said she was pleased with her selection.
Chapter 5
TAMI
Twenty-four hours ago, she’d felt like she was just a little bit on the brink of a breakdown. She hadn’t quite made it there yet, because if nothing else, Tami liked to believe she was an optimist. She also believed that all her dreams would eventually come true—if she could actually wrangle those dreams into one coherent concept. But that was a rabbit hole she’d venture down at another time. Tonight, she had plans to make.
