Page 31 of September (New Orleans #9)

“But I’m not Annabelle; I don’t get to just make excuses about not coming home for a family holiday.

I don’t get told how successful and smart I am.

I get told that I need to settle down, find a real job, and make real money as if the money I have made is fake and doesn’t pay my rent and other bills. ”

“That’s not what I mean, but you haven’t even touched your trust fund,” her mother said.

Gwen had completely forgotten about that. Since she hadn’t used it for anything day-to-day, she generally forgot that she even had it. She so rarely thought about it that she hadn’t even remembered it when she’d been thinking about starting her own business just moments ago.

“Well, I’m thinking about using part of it for something now.”

“You are? What?”

“I might buy a van for a mobile grooming business.”

“Honey, the trust fund is for a house or a family car or for your future retirement.”

“A business of my own can get me to those things, too, and I’m not using all of it.”

“Why don’t you focus on finding yourself a wife and buying a cute starter house for you and your future kids? You would have more than enough to do that, and if you still want the van thing , you can do it then.”

Gwen sighed and said, “And this is what I was talking about, Mom. Had Annabelle said that she wanted to spend her entire trust fund on some expensive painting, you’d tell her to do so; you wouldn’t even question it.”

“Art is an investment.”

“Mom, a business is an investment in me . I’ve been working freelance for years, but that’s essentially running my own business.”

“You’re walking dogs, Gwen.”

“And I love it,” she stated, rolling her eyes.

“I’ve always loved animals, Mom. I didn’t want to work in a vet’s office, but I stumbled upon this amazing job that I love.

Is it as lucrative as running my own medical practice?

No, but I also don’t need it to be. I haven’t touched my trust fund because I haven’t had to.

I make enough money to support myself, and I have money saved.

I can do this on my own, with or without the family money you’ve given me, and I’ve had to, because that money has always come with strings.

If I use it now, you’ll expect something from me, and I don’t want that, so I’ll just do this on my own.

If you want, I’ll put the money back into your account or something.

I don’t even want it in my bank account anymore. ”

“That money is yours, Gwendolyn. All of our children got their trust funds. I won’t take it back.”

“Fine. Don’t. But I’m not going to use it. Maybe I’ll just donate it to charity or something.”

“It’s yours to do with what you want. I never meant to imply that there were strings; not on this portion of it, anyway.

The other portion, the one you get if you get married – that stipulation wasn’t mine.

It comes from your grandparents.” Her mother sighed.

“I do not understand why we always end up fighting when we talk.”

“Because you defend your other children, but never me, Mom. Annabelle is all sorts of amazing and not a bitch, when we both know that she chooses not to come home, and it’s not because she’s busy.

Archie is a God’s gift to humanity. It’s no wonder he turned out the way he did when you raised him to believe that he could do no wrong.

Grant is whatever. He’s the least of my worries.

But I get shit for my life choices every time we talk, and I’m done, Mom.

If you want to call me one day and talk about something I’ve done right in my life, let me know. ”

“Gwen, I–”

“Goodbye, Mom,” she said and hung up.

◆◆◆

“Hi,” she said, lacking enthusiasm, as Juliet opened her apartment door.

“What’s wrong?” Juliet asked, trying to hold Carly back with her foot.

Gwen’s eyes lifted from the dog up to Juliet’s chosen outfit for their second date.

Juliet was wearing a pair of form-fitting black slacks with a gray button-down shirt that she’d tucked in, along with some black boots that disappeared beneath her pants.

Her blonde hair was down and extra wavy tonight.

“You look gorgeous,” Gwen noted.

“Thanks. So do you. What’s wrong, though? Carly, bed,” Juliet added that last part firmly, pointing to Carly’s bed.

Gwen was then pulled inside the apartment, and Juliet closed the door behind her. The dog looked sad but walked to her bed anyway. Gwen heard her huff a bit, which made her smile on the inside, at least.

“I had an unexpected call with my mother earlier, and I let her get to me.”

“What did she say?”

“Nothing. We don’t have to talk about it. I made a reservation. Want to go?” She hooked a thumb toward the door.

“We can stay in tonight and talk about it, Gwen,” Juliet suggested.

“No. We only have a few days, right? Then, you’re on the road again. I’ll get out of my funk, I promise. You’re already helping. You really do look great.”

“Can we talk about it when we get to the restaurant, if you need to?” Juliet asked.

“Sure,” she replied, feeling unsure about that.