by Cora Brent
Unlike Gretchen, he seems stunned to find me here. His eyes are bleary, either from grief or from alcohol or both.
“I meant to call you.” He leans an elbow against the doorframe.
“Doesn’t matter. Dan, I’m sorry as hell.”
He winces and nods. “Yeah.” He looks behind him and steps back. “Come in.”
“You don’t have to get back to the house?”
“Can’t deal with that shit.” He drops into a washed-out green recliner and rubs a hand over his face. “Fake fucking people and their fake fucking sadness. Most of them couldn’t give a crap about my sister.”
The green recliner has a twin and the springs groan under my weight when I claim it. A plastic tea set sits on a wicker table. There’s a small tent in the shape of a pink castle in the corner. By the looks of the place, this has become a playhouse for Mara and Caitlin.
However, the bottle of Jack Daniels squatting beside the tea set is definitely not the property of two little kids.
“How long’s it been, Trent?” Danny leans back in his chair.
I don’t think he’s quite drunk yet but he’s getting there.
“Since the last time we were in the same room? Almost three years. You were playing a series in Miami and we met up after a game.”
He snorts. “After party at the Python Room. I remember. You stayed for about twenty minutes.”
“Don’t like noise. Don’t like people.”
He nods. “It was good of you to dash up here from Miami with no notice. How’d you hear about Jules?”
“I’m not based in Miami anymore.”
“No? Thought you were a big real estate mogul down there.”
“Hardly. I’m a hustling house flipper.” I’m downplaying. A lot. But there’s no point in bragging. “And I live here now.”
“Here?” His brow creases. “You mean you moved up to the city?”
Considering my disgust for noise and people, New York City would be my last choice. “Nope, I’m back in Lake Stuart.”
“Bullshit. Since when?”
Technically, since the night his sister died. “Recently.”
“I hadn’t heard that.”
“Must have slipped my mind to share the news on social media.”
He’s looking at me more closely now. “You hate it here.”
He knows that and he knows my reasons.
Well, some of my reasons.
Danny knows my brother told a monster of a lie and had me shipped off to a place of nightmares. He knows I was not allowed to be present for my own father’s last days and he knows I was disinherited. If not for the fact that my mother had left me a life insurance windfall that couldn’t be violated, I would have been out on the street when I turned eighteen.
Instead, I invested in some cheap real estate when the market was down and benefited when it rose. It turns out I have a hell of a knack for turning a profit. I’m here to put that talent to good use.
“Needed a change of scenery,” I say, not much caring to dive into the specifics at this time.
“Huh,” he grunts, still perplexed.
No wonder.
We always said we’d get the hell out of Lake Stuart. Trading in a beachfront condo in sunny Florida and permanently relocating to this small town tundra doesn’t make much sense to him.
“So where are you staying?” he wants to know.
“Down the street.”
“Not in your old house.”
“Yup. Got a good deal on it.”
What a lie. I got a terrible deal. Good thing I can afford to make terrible deals.
Danny decides to drop the subject. He’s grown preoccupied and he gazes sadly at the pink castle tent.
“I can’t get my head wrapped around the idea that she’s gone. Fucking hell. She wanted me to visit for the holidays but I blew that off and said I’d come in the spring. But I probably wouldn’t have come in the spring. I ran out of here the first chance I got while she was stuck. You know how it was. Dad went to prison. Mom took off. She’d just managed to get Gretch through high school when she got pregnant with the twins. I hoped I’d be able to help her by raking in the big bucks but my career tanked. Now it’s too late.”
My heart might be a shriveled husk but today it hurts for them all. I don’t want to say any of the standard lame garbage people feel compelled to repeat at a time like this. I heard too much of that after my mother died. Her death was also sudden and excruciating. I know firsthand what it feels like to be handed crappy declarations that mean nothing.
“I went to the house first, before I came out here.”
He makes a face. “You must have seen Gretchen.”
“She’s the one who told me where to find you. She said you’re in shock.”
“That’s how she put it?”
“I think so. I didn’t take notes.”
He leans forward, picks up the bottle of whiskey. Puts it down. “I guess we’re both in shock. Not only did we lose our big sister but today we found out Jules made a will. She named me and Gretchen as the girls’ guardians.”
“This may be a touchy subject, but what about their father?”
Danny gives me a flat look. “If you know who he is, I’m all ears. I’d like to hunt the fucker down and have a few words with him.”
“I’ll bet.”
He sighs. “She kept that secret to herself. There’s no father listed on their birth certificates. I guess she must have had a good reason for not wanting him around but the girls are going to have questions and there’s no one to answer them.”
“Shit, Dan. I don’t know what to say.”
Danny shakes his head, wheezes out a laugh with no humor. “I can’t imagine what the hell my sister was thinking, leaving those girls in my care.”
“She was probably thinking that they wouldn’t be in your care because she wouldn’t die.”
He looks at me so blankly that I wish I’d said nothing. But then he kind of snorts and I catch a glimpse of the teenage Danny Aaronson in his smirk. This reminds me how much I’ve missed his friendship without even realizing it. We were hardly out of diapers when we met and he remains the only close friend I’ve ever had. Things weren’t the same after I was sent away. We never again lived in the same place and lost the bond we’d once shared. That’s more my fault than his.
He opens the whiskey bottle and gestures to the tea cups. “This is the best I can do in the way of shot glasses.” He pours until two of the plastic cups are half full. “Let’s drink to Jules. She was the best of us, wasn’t she?”
I raise a tiny blue cup. “To Jules.”
He finishes his in one swallow. I do the same even though my taste for whiskey is long gone.
“Why are you really back in Lake Stuart, Trent?” he asks and it seems like he’s just curious, not suspicious.
Danny wouldn’t be bothered if I told him the whole truth but I’m not ready to show my hand yet. Besides, this day is for Jules, not for my grudges.
I set the plastic cup down beside a plastic pitcher. “Just homesick, I guess. My mother loved this damn town.”
At least that’s a kernel of truth. For years my father had managed Cassini Brewery by constantly going back and forth from Manhattan. It wasn’t until he was married to his second wife that he decided to move here.
To my mother, born to a working class family from Queens and rarely leaving her urban surroundings as a child, Lake Stuart was paradise. She wanted me to grow up here and my father built the house for her, the house that was taken from me and is now mine again.
Danny looks like he’s thinking about taking another shot of whiskey. “My dad tried to get permission to come to the funeral. Me and Gretch were both relieved when that didn’t happen. At least there’s one thing we can agree on.”
Danny and Gretchen never had much in common except some DNA and a fucked up backstory. For the life of me I can’t picture the two of them joining forces to take care of a pair of preschoolers.
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But I’d rather avoid dwelling on Gretchen right now. I’d hate for my oldest friend to guess that I wouldn’t mind having sex with his sister.
I clear my throat. “Maybe you ought to think about going back inside. Looks like half of Lake Stuart showed up.”
“To hell with ‘em,” Danny scoffs. “Too many are just here to gloat over one more Aaronson family tragedy.”
“And I saw your mother.”
“To hell with her too.” But he does get to his feet. “All right, let’s go. I’m sure I’ve pissed off Gretchen enough today by hiding out.”
Outside, the clouds look to be breaking up a little so maybe there won’t be snow after all. Being here in the Aaronsons’ backyard is like old times and for a second I could swear Danny and I are about to go out hunting for trouble. Maybe we’d go raid the gas station liquor aisle, borrow one of my dad’s classic muscle cars, pile some pretty girls in the backseat and get a caravan to drive up the hill to do wild shit that people would be talking about at school on Monday.
In that world I hadn’t yet been shipped off to a sadistic shithole and Jules Aaronson was still alive.
It’s the world I’d rather be in but there’s no use in sulking because that’s not where we are.
Maybe Danny is having some deep thoughts of his own because when we are a few steps from the back door he stops short.
“Trent.”
“Yeah?”
“As fucked up as the circumstances are, it is damn good to see you again.”
“Good to see you too. I guess you’ll be sticking around?”
His expression becomes uncertain. “I don’t know. Spring training starts next month.”
The life of a minor league ball player hoping to get another crack at the majors isn’t really one that’s set up to be the guardian of two little girls.
It’s not like I can really help with that so I say nothing.
The crowd inside the house has thinned out considerably and I’m glad. I’d rather not have an encounter with some girl who sucked my dick in eleventh grade or a guy I kicked the shit out of in the high school cafeteria. I’m not planning to be especially social while I’m living here and I don’t even know how long that will be.
I’ve got a score to settle and I’m not leaving until I get my pound of flesh.
And if word reaches that son of a bitch that I’m in town, let him sweat out the reason why until I’m ready to share.
A short whirlwind in dark blue satin zips this way from out of nowhere.
“Uncle Danny! Trentcassini found you.”
At first I don’t know if the little girl in front of me is Mara or Caitlin but then I remember being told that one of them has shorter hair.
“I sure did, Caitlin.”
She flashes the tiniest of pleased smiles and then pulls at her uncle’s hand. “Where have you been, Uncle Danny? Gramma was looking for you when she said goodbye.”
Danny frowns. “Your grandmother left already?”
“She said she had a headache. Aunt Gretchen got real mad at her.”
“And where is Aunt Gretchen?”
While he’s in the middle of asking the question, his sister appears on the far side of the room. I’m still not used to the fact that Gretchen Aaronson has evolved into such a beauty. If possible, she’s more stunning than she was half an hour ago. Gretchen doesn’t seem to notice me at all. She’s staring at her brother. Mara holds her hand while drinking out of a cardboard juice box.
Danny and Gretchen are eyeing each other like two wary opponents who are waiting to hear what the rules of the ring will be.
Well, I won’t be the one making the rules.
But with Jules in mind, I think I can manage to do a small good deed right now.
“You know something? I didn’t get to finish watching Frozen,” I say to Caitlin. “I was wondering how it ends.”
She forgets her sadness for a minute and her face lights up. She drops her uncle’s hand and reaches for mine. “We can watch it right now!”
Mara overhears and hands her juice box over to Gretchen so she can help drag me back to the den. “We’re gonna watch Frozen with Trentcassini.”
“You both can just call me Trent,” I tell them. I doubt they are listening, but I pass within inches of Gretchen. Our eyes meet and hers are full of grudging appreciation.
“Thank you,” she murmurs.
And the strangest thought flies through my head.
Right now I’d do just about anything to earn a smile from her.
3
Gretchen
Abigail Fisher sent an arrangement of white lilies as big as a coffee table. There was a printed square card attached from Doris’s Flower Shop here in town.
Whatever will be.
Love always, Abigail
I wonder who told her.
Jules keeps in touch with Abigail but I hadn’t found the time to call the Long Island nursing home where she lives.
It’s possible she considers the note to be a universal piece of life advice.
Or maybe time has just robbed her brain of too much and one of the few things that remains consistent is the name of her favorite song.
The flowers arrived at the house this morning before the funeral and there was really no place to put them. I left them in our parents’ old room, which is where I usually stay when I visit. Caitlin has my old bedroom while Mara has Danny’s. Jules kept the same upstairs bedroom she’s always had.
Once the mourners begin to straggle out it’s like someone rang a dinner bell and they all become eager to get away.
I don’t blame them.
Too many hours in the middle of a tragedy makes people afraid, as if their own lives and families might be unwittingly damaged.
“Call me if you need anything, sweets,” says Ashley Schwartz as she plants a dry and very unnecessary kiss on my cheek. She and Jules were friends in high school. Ashley and the rest of the popular clique ditched Jules following our father’s arrest.
I don’t smile at her. “Right. I know I can count on you.”
She begins to smile but falters when she takes a good look at my face and considers that I might be trolling her, which I am.
I don’t give a fuck about Ashley Schwartz’s feelings.
My sister is in a box at the Woodlawn Cemetery and my soul is in shreds.
The exit becomes a full blown parade of hasty condolences, more than a few tears and a handful of randomly offered business cards. I shove the business cards down the narrow neck of a ceramic vase the first chance I get.
Soon there’s no one left except me and Danny and the twins.
Oh, and Trent Cassini.
He’s here too.
A couple of times I poked my head into the den to make sure all was well and found him hunched on a seat that was too small for his tall, muscled body while he stared at cartoon characters. He listened as the twins provided constant instruction on the finer plot points, in case he was confused about why a snowman could speak.
Each time I looked in, Trent would glance at me for a split second and turn back to the screen without a word. It was an odd setup but the girls were strangely delighted to have his company. Since they have had nothing to smile about today, I allowed Trent to stay where he was.
Right on schedule at six p.m. my phone suddenly plays a few bars of Sunrise, Sunset from Fiddler on the Roof.
My heart shatters anew.
This is Sunday, a day when I would always check in with Jules. I’ve forgotten to turn off the reminder alarm set to a tune from Jules’s favorite musical.
I never want to hear that song again. That song makes me sick.
I hate Sunday too. Sunday will now always be the day that I buried my sister.
The call came at four in the morning, an unknown number with an upstate area code, and I answered before I had time to think about why anyone would need to get in touch with me at that hour.
Officer Gavin Brand from the Lake Stuart Police
Department was given the unpleasant chore of breaking the news. He was in my high school class, a quirky kid who was always trying to crack bad jokes.
He was all out of jokes when he explained about the ice and the garbage truck. He promised Jules had died instantly, as if that fact was a small mercy that should ease the devastation.
Not possible.
Jules didn’t have time to whisper a prayer or think about her girls. She was on her way home after a late night at the thankless low level job where she worked too hard to provide for her daughters. She was probably tired. She was likely anxious to pick up Mara and Caitlin from the woman who watched them in her home daycare.
Officer Gavin Brand said the girls were safe and staying with their babysitter until a family member could claim them. He was still talking when I abruptly ended the call.
I’d lived inside terrible moments before. None as bad as that one but I’m familiar with the unnatural sense of calm that can carry the mind through when things need to be done.
And there were things to be done.
I called my mother at her home in Rochester. I left a message at the Central New York State Correctional Center so my father could be informed. And I called my brother in Arizona, who was just stumbling home to his apartment after partying all night.
“Are you sure, Gretch? Oh Jesus, it can’t be her!”
The sound of my big brother’s sobs unlocked my own and for a terrible second I became the girl who crawled under her math desk one day and screamed until she was slapped.
I might have gone that route again if not for the girls.
Because of the girls I calmly packed my bags, rented a car and drove straight to Lake Stuart. I’m the one who told them that the beautiful, loving, funny mother they adored would not be coming home. Everything had become too real and too horrible.
I’ve never lived in a world without Jules.
Not once did it occur to me that I would need to.
“At least that part’s over.” Danny sighs with relief and locks the front door.
He looks like hell and he smells like a bar. He has offered no apologies for disappearing after the burial service and leaving me alone to deal with the morbid host chores.
