Something Molly Can't See

by Carol Maloney Scott

  And my parents aren’t helping. Well, mostly my mother.

  “Well, I certainly appreciate that Granana thought so highly of me that she would leave me so much money, the factory, and the apartment complex. But Mr. Franklin, I don’t know how to run an apartment complex. And it’s only ten units? Can’t we just hire someone? It would be giving a local person a job, and isn’t the economy struggling in Applebarrow since the snack cakes plant closed down?”

  My mother can’t resist chiming in. “Yes, it is! And I think it’s quite possible that the locals blame the DeLuca family for that. I hardly think anyone is going to roll out the red carpet for the snack cakes heiress. And she has plans, dreams…I don’t understand how my mother-in-law could have spent so much time with Lia and leave her with such a mess.”

  Dad squeezes Mom’s knee and says, “Ed, forgive Sarah. She’s protective of Lia, as am I. All we want is for her to be happy, but I also value my mother’s dying wishes. So, let me make sure I understand. Lia has to move to Applebarrow to run social events for the residents of the apartment complex, and then she’ll receive her full inheritance in one year?”

  “Yes, that’s correct. Mrs. DeLuca specifically stated that she was saddened by the lack of friendship at Pentagon Place, the ten-unit apartment complex she owned with her late husband, and she felt that her granddaughter is the one to make a difference.”

  I squirm in my seat and curse the invention of panty hose. It would not have killed Mr. Franklin to see my bare legs—it’s already warm here in March, but my mother insisted on professional dress.

  “It’s nice that Granana thought I would be up to this challenge, but I don’t know if being a Resident Assistant in my college dorm is the same thing as planning social activities for a bunch of strangers from different age groups and demographics. What could all of them possibly be interested in? How can I motivate them to want to get to know each other if they haven’t already done it on their own?”

  Before anyone responds, the biggest question on my mind is blurted out by my mother.

  “Ed, why the hell did Allegra care if her residents got along? It’s not a commune, it’s an apartment complex. If the people pay their rent and aren’t assaulting each other, who cares? It’s not even like she lived there. Her house is a good few blocks away from the apartments. I don’t get it.”

  My father leans forward with his Buddha-like expression and says, “I think it’s a lovely idea.”

  Mom and I both glance at him in surprise (hers is more of a glare), but I can’t help but think of my sweet grandmother, wanting to bring harmony to the world—or at least her little corner of it.

  I sit up straighter and ask, “Mr. Franklin, you knew my grandmother, didn’t you?”

  “Oh yes, very well. Lovely woman.”

  “So why do you think she wants me to do this?” I thumb through the pages of directions from the Will. “Monthly social meetings. Regular resident events. How will we measure the success of any of this? And am I really cut out of the Will if I don’t do this?”

  Mr. Franklin clears his throat again and says, “I’m not entirely sure. After all, Mrs. DeLuca had a sincere wish for people to be happy. Obviously, she taught your father those principals, based on his career choice.”

  My father smiles broadly and looks up to the heavens, while my mother rolls her eyes in the same direction and says, “I guess I should be grateful she didn’t ask you to do this, Paul. Or I’d be packing my bags to move to this shi…little town and hosting hay rides and pot luck square dances.”

  Mr. Franklin ignores my mother’s thinly veiled disdain for his town and says, “And while she did state clear requirements in the Will, it is my personal opinion that your grandmother will not cut you out entirely if you don’t complete this mission.”

  My mother rubs her temples and says, “Well, don’t you know? She’s not here to tell us, and you’re her lawyer. Isn’t this a Will reading? I feel like I’m in a game of Clue, and maybe it was the butler in the parlor with the candlestick.”

  Mr. Franklin stands up and starts pacing. He’s either getting ready to bolt out the door with his tackle box, or he’s preparing to convince the jury (Mom) that I need to sign on the dotted line so he can…well...run out of here with his tackle box.

  “Mrs. DeLuca grew up in an Italian neighborhood in New York City, as you all know. She had a large family and enjoyed the close-knit community. When Mr. DeLuca, may he rest in peace, brought her to Virginia, she deeply felt the loss of that community. As she became elderly, she started to notice the comings and goings at Pentagon Place, and she was saddened by the loneliness she perceived in the residents.”

  He stops and pauses a moment, holding on to the back of his chair. “Now, I ask you, is that so crazy? I don’t know. I’m a lawyer, not a psychiatrist. But it was clear that Mrs. DeLuca felt she was too old to affect any change with the residents, but since it was important to her, she hoped that her bright, caring granddaughter would take the job.”

  “Did she say that about me?”

  “Yes, she did. And I’m sure her motivations are more clearly expressed in the letter.”

  “What letter?”

  For once, Dad, Mom, and I all speak in unison. This is getting awfully dramatic for a Will reading, but I guess Granana had a lot of time on her hands to plot and plan. She most certainly was not crazy.

  “Mrs. DeLuca left a letter for Lia with specific instructions about her assignment.”

  “Well, let’s see it then!” Mom’s hands are flying so fast now she’s about to go airborne off the tweed couch.

  Mr. Franklin winces, but ignores my mother’s shouting and sits back down. “Lia, you will get your letter once you make a decision about how you’d like to proceed. Again, please read the information I’ve provided, and understand that this is a one-year commitment. Once you’ve made your decision, I can read my secret letter, which will tell me what happens if you refuse the terms.”

  Now my mother is questioning how I’m supposed to decide without the letter. Why does the letter come after the decision? And the lawyer has a secret letter?

  I must admit that it’s confusing and cryptic, but she’s freaking out and it’s not helping.

  “Ed, what is this, a game show? Lia must decide if she wants what’s behind door number one or two, sight unseen? Can’t we have Allegra declared insane by someone who is qualified?”

  My father tries to calm Mom down, and I marvel at how he completely ignores her comments about his mother.

  “And how will Lia earn money while she waits for her big payout, if she chooses door number one?” Mom’s eyes are bulging.

  Mr. Franklin explains that I will be paid a salary to act as the apartment manager, and it’s more than I am making now, and I’ll have free rent.

  Not that I pay an equal share of the bills now, living with Jason, but he makes way more money than I do and insists on contributing more.

  How will he react to this? He was thrilled when we moved in together, and it hasn’t even been a year.

  Will he view this as a step backward in our relationship? He does tend to think more like my mother, who is still hammering away at poor Mr. Franklin.

  Now my parents have moved on to debating the fate of the snack cake business assets. I can’t even begin to get my head around that right now. Or probably ever.

  Those buildings are worth a lot of money, but only if someone wants to start a business and restore them to their former manufacturing glory.

  None of us know a thing about running a factory—that hasn’t changed—and my mother is not shy about pointing it out—again.

  “Lia, are you listening? I know it’s a lot to take in. I don’t think we should even think about the business until you decide about what you want to do. What do you think, Honey? Do you want to talk it over with Jason before you give Mr. Franklin a decision?”

  Before I can answer, Mom says, “Yes, why don’t you go back to the hotel and call Jason? He’s
got a good business sense. Maybe he’ll have some ideas. And you really want his buy-in—this will be a huge adjustment for your relationship. But who knows where the money will go if you don’t accept this ridiculous deal? Paul, how are you not upset about this?”

  My father pats my mother’s hand while she breathes heavily. Mr. Franklin is looking around the room, either for a paper bag for my mother to breathe into, or that elusive escape route.

  I find it hard to believe Granana would issue me an ultimatum, and possibly disinherit me.

  I bet the secret letter will tell Mr. Franklin to give me the money no matter what I decide.

  Mom stands up and offers Mr. Franklin her hand. He sighs as if he is thrilled that one of us has decided to end the marathon Will reading. I bet billionaires and rock stars can get their crap sorted out faster than my weird little family.

  My parents and our attorney exchange goodbyes and other pleasantries, while I continue to hold Granana’s proposal in my hands. I am dying for my letter, so I can better understand what’s behind my grandmother’s odd request.

  Even though Jason and I aren’t married, we’ve been together for five years, and we have plans. But I still think he’ll want me to take advantage of any deal that could help us achieve our goals even sooner, and he’ll respect my desire to honor my grandmother’s final wishes, especially when he finds out that to refuse her is a huge gamble with an enormous fortune.

  And it’s only a two-hour drive from Richmond to Applebarrow. We were further apart my last two years of college, after he graduated.

  Mom purses her lips and says, “Lia, are you okay? I know this was a lot to take in. Maybe I’m overreacting, and this isn’t such a big deal. You could just do ice cream socials or something. And Jason can come visit on the weekends. Maybe you don’t even have to live here?”

  Mom looks hopefully between me and Mr. Franklin, and I say, “Yes I do. Read the proposal. I must become a resident of Pentagon Place, apartment number One.”

  I close the booklet and rise from my seat, feeling a little light-headed. I don’t know if it’s hunger, or I am feeling my life as I know it draining away.

  All I know is, I need to get my hands on that letter. Granana will do a much better job of explaining herself than Mr. Franklin, and she didn’t tell him everything. That’s why she personally wrote to me.

  Plus, I can’t think with my parents…oh, there goes my phone now. I thought I silenced it.

  It’s a text from Jason.

  “Hey, how’d the Will reading go? And how are you holding up with the ‘rents? JK—love Paul and Sarah. Can’t wait to see you—dinner tomorrow?”

  I am not going to respond right away. There is plenty of time once I get back to the hotel to pack. I don’t even know what to say right now, but I know this new commitment will involve much more than ice cream socials.

  If I know my deep-thinking grandmother, this is a carefully orchestrated plot. My parents don’t realize that Allegra DeLuca wasn’t just a sweet old lady who sat home and made lasagna, while Grandpa built his snack cake empire.

  No, she was smart. Shrewd even. I always wished both my grandparents and my parents had been younger when they had children, so that Granana would be alive well into my adult life. I valued her opinions about career, money, men…

  I can’t wait to read her wise words, and I trust that she had good reasons for making me jump through hoops to become a wealthy heiress.

  Now, to get home and convince Jason that this detour from our plans is a great opportunity.

  He likes money, but Jason isn’t much for detours.

  Nobody Tells Lia Anything

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  While I am always thrilled to complete a novel and send it out into the world, this one is truly special because it is my first release as a full-time author!

  I recently quit my day job and I am now writing fiction and running my career coaching business, Career Happiness Map Coaching, full time.

  This is a dream come true for me, and I am incredibly grateful for the opportunity to pursue both of my passions, and work at home all day with my two furry assistants, Daisy and Benny, the Wiener Wonder Twins.

  My husband, Jim, has been my rock, and a solid foundation of support, love and encouragement in my new endeavors. He’s always been a big fan of my dreams and schemes but being there to cheer me on as I make this big leap into an entrepreneurial life is huge!

  My son, Nick, created another beautiful book cover – I just love the visual theme of this series – and he continues to be my advocate and a firm believer in my ability to achieve big things. I am so unbelievably happy for Nick, now that he is a successful professional designer, living and working in Chicago. He’s the ultimate creative partner, and a loving, inspiring source of pride and joy.

  My stepdaughter, Jaime, reads all my books and celebrates with me every time I get accepted for a BookBub feature! She’s an encouraging and insightful cheerleader, and her enthusiasm is contagious. She is an ongoing source of pride for her whole family, and she is poised to do great things.

  Daisy and Benny, my adorable little wiener dogs, like to “help” Mommy write. Their help consists of snuggling so close to me that I can’t use my arms, and licking my laptop. Crying for treats, and playfighting like lions behind me on the couch, are also some of their contributions to my work.

  No matter what they do to drive me crazy, I am deeply grateful for my time spent with these sweet, innocent little souls.

  I love to succeed in business and sell lots of books and coaching packages, however the greatest measure of success is the amount of love in our lives.

  And on that scale, I am a very wealthy woman.

  As always, a special thank you to my readers, reviewers, and all of the many people who have reached out to tell me that my stories have made them laugh, cry and become absorbed in fantasy and romance.

  I think of you when I am writing, and I thank you for your love and support.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Carol Maloney Scott, author of romantic comedy and paranormal chick lit, is a frazzled wife, proud mom and stepmom, and wiener dog fanatic.

  She is a lover of donuts, and a hater of mornings. After unearthing a childhood passion for telling stories, she can once again be seen carrying around a notebook and staring into space.

  Her stories are witty, fresh, and real—just like life.

  Join her on “The Edge” for giveaways, cover reveals, excerpts, contests and members-only content at carolmaloneyscott.com/

  Please check out her social media sites and say hello!

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