Page 4 of The Haunting of Paynes Hollow

Four

Three days later, Gail and I are on our way to Paynes Hollow, and while we’ve stopped arguing, we’re now in a chilly stalemate.

I don’t want her here, and I say that in the most loving way.

It makes zero sense for her to come along.

My job can be done remotely; hers can’t.

Spending a month in Paynes Hollow means she’s going to juggle video sessions with twice-weekly two-hour drives to Syracuse, which is ridiculous.

Then there’s Carlos, the guy she was kinda-sorta seeing, who decided Gail spending a month with me meant she wasn’t committed to moving forward, so he ended the relationship.

There’s also her apartment, which the landlord wouldn’t let her short-term-rent to a visiting colleague, meaning she won’t even catch a break there.

“I just inherited one-third of a multimillion-dollar estate, Sam,” she said when I argued. “I don’t need to sublet my apartment. And if Carlos balked at me being gone for a month on a family emergency, he’s not the guy I’m looking for.”

Maybe, but she’s still putting her life on hold to babysit me. Which is uncomfortably close to when I’d moved in with her, oblivious to the fact that I must have seriously cramped her post-college lifestyle.

I haven’t been to Paynes Hollow in fourteen years, but neither has Gail. Dad had been a teenager when Gail was born, and he’d been the one who took her to movies and concerts and came to her dance recitals and school plays. Her father certainly didn’t.

I’m very aware of the sacrifice she’s making for me, but it feels as if I’m still messing up, expecting everyone else to fix my problems. Like a toddler who insists she can make her own breakfast, but the adults need to hover, knowing she can’t handle it on her own.

If Gail is adamant about coming along, I want us to pretend it’s a vacation. Pretend I’m not terrified of going back to Paynes Hollow. Pretend our lives weren’t shattered on that shore.

Hey, Gramps! Thanks for the month-long holiday on the lake! Oh, and thanks for the cool ten mil I’ll get for staying there. Joke’s on you.

But I’m not getting the fantasy. I’m getting this: driving in stony silence along the I-90, as if we’re heading to another funeral.

“Maybe you could invite Carlos up for the weekend,” I say. “Grandpa forgot to close that loophole. We could fill all three cottages and have a month-long beach party.”

“If Carlos wanted to see me, he could have suggested that. He did not.”

“Maybe you’re upset because he didn’t suggest coming to visit, and he’s upset because you didn’t invite him.”

She shakes her head and adjusts her sunglasses. “You’re seeing something there that wasn’t there, Sam. I know you want me to be happy. But I am.” She smiles over. “Happy to be spending the summer with a very dear friend, who happens to be my niece. How lucky is that?”

I sigh and look out the window.

Gail says, “If you’d like to discuss romance, we could talk about the state of your love life.”

I snort.

“Yep,” she says. “You haven’t dated since you got back from Chicago. You’re too busy with your mom, and I get that. So no dating talk. I also won’t mention you getting another cat.”

I tense, and she sighs, her voice dropping as she says, “That won’t happen again, Sam.

The next time you get a pet, you’ll be able to afford any cost. Also, as I have pointed out many times, even the vet said there was only a twenty percent chance that chemo would have helped Lucille.

I couldn’t have paid with those odds either.

But next time, it will be different.” She grins over.

“You’ll be able to get a dozen cats and buy a house big enough to hold them. World’s youngest cat lady.”

“I do not want to be cleaning litter boxes for a dozen cats. And can you imagine the shedding? Not to mention the smell.” I shudder.

“Pfft. You’re going to be rich, girl. You can hire someone to clean those boxes and brush those cats and vacuum up the fur. Ten million dollars.”

“Before taxes.”

She lowers her shades to goggle at me. “At that level, who cares about taxes? Even with the lousiest advisor, you’d walk away with five mil. Ms. Jimenez says you should clear seven. Seven. Million. Dollars. You can do anything you want.”

I nod, staying quiet, trying not to think about that.

“You could go to med school after all,” she says. “Or, with that kind of money, if you invest it right, you wouldn’t need to work.”

“I’d still work.”

“Of course you would. You’d go stir-crazy otherwise. But you could go to med school and become a doctor and not give a damn what kind of wages you’re pulling in. You wanted to be a small-town GP. You could do that.”

“I want to focus on Mom first.”

She squeezes my knee. “Okay, I’ll take a hint and stop dreaming for you. Let’s dream for me instead.”

I smile. “Three kids, a dog, and a house in the country?”

“Of course. Should I add a guy to the mix?”

“Nah. You can rent one.”

Her laughter fills the tiny car. “I just might do that.” She glances over. “Did I tell you that Ms. Jimenez already wired me five grand?”

“Nice.”

“Do you know where it came from?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “My asshole brother.”

“Uncle Mark?”

She nods. “Dad left me the dining room set, which your aunt Ellen has always had her eye on. So we agreed on a price, and I now have five grand burning a hole in my pocket. Wanna know what I’m doing with it?”

“Buying five grand in booze to get us through the next month?”

“Ha! That’ll get us through the first week. And don’t worry—I’m not pushing the money on you. I know you were able to rent out your apartment and negotiated to pay a portion of your mother’s tab.”

“I did. So what is the money for? A splurge, I hope.”

“Kind of. If you consider it a splurge to make the cottage habitable.”

I arch a brow at her.

Her voice goes serious. “No one’s used your family cottage in fourteen years, Sam. No one has used any of the cottages.”

Because after my father killed a local boy, my family didn’t dare stay there. I’d like to see that as proper respect for their grief, but if my grandfather gave a shit about that, he’d have left the property to the dead boy’s family—or to the town itself.

My grandfather had always been the biggest local donor.

He stopped after my dad died. It wasn’t just Mom and I who betrayed his favorite child.

Paynes Hollow did, too. We were the founding family, damn it.

There’s a long tradition of rich folks getting away with murder.

The fact that we weren’t granted that courtesy is, apparently, unforgivable.

I realize Gail is waiting for me to say something, and I pull from my thoughts to focus.

“No one has used the cottages…?” I say, and then her meaning hits. “What state are they in?”

“I asked Ms. Jimenez, but she wasn’t sure.”

“She only knows that I need to stay in mine—the one my parents used.” I look over sharply. “Considering what my father did, are we sure the locals didn’t burn it? I wouldn’t blame them.”

“There’s a caretaker, and he says the cottage is still standing. No loopholes there, I’m afraid. However, ‘still standing’ isn’t the same as ‘habitable.’ But it will be. I have five grand to spend. With any luck, Ikea will deliver. If not, I’ll pick up what I can in my car.”

I thump back against the seat. “Because I’m not allowed to leave the property for more than an hour, once a day. I should be grateful for that concession. Otherwise, if you weren’t there, I couldn’t exactly count on the locals to bring me food. Not unless it’s poisoned.”

She shakes her head. “People will feel nothing but sympathy for you, Sam. You were a child.”

The child of a killer. Gail always forgets that part. I can’t.

This was one of the things I had unfairly blamed my mother for.

To me, we should have moved across the country, where no one knew our names.

Instead, we went back to Syracuse, with me attending the same school where everyone knew what my dad did.

My mother was a teacher, like my father.

Why couldn’t she take me somewhere and homeschool me?

It wasn’t until much later that I understood Mom couldn’t leave.

Her father was in Syracuse, suffering from the same ailment she has now.

Her mother had taken off for Florida when the disease first appeared, leaving Mom to care for him.

He’d been at the stage where a move would have been unbearably traumatic.

Combine that with the fact that she had a good teaching job and a good support network in Syracuse, and I understand why she didn’t leave.

But staying in the same neighborhood and going to the same school meant I endured years of whispers and bullying.

Oooh, you cut off Sam Payne in the lunch line? Don’t you know what her dad did? You took your life in your hands.

Uh, Ms. Chu, do you really think you should give Sam Payne a scalpel to dissect that frog? You know what her dad did, right?

I shake it off. I won’t need to worry about what Paynes Hollow thinks of me. I might be allowed to leave for an hour a day, but I don’t plan to. I won’t take any chance of getting in a fender bender or being stuck in a checkout line and losing the property.

I can do this. I will do this. I will beat my grandfather at his game.

Win the property. Make sure my mother gets all the help and comfort she deserves.

Quietly give money to Austin Vandergriff ’s family.

Donate to Paynes Hollow, if they’ll let me do it anonymously.

I will fix everything that my father and grandfather screwed up.

Will I fix my own life, too? Is med school finally in my future? Even thinking about that makes me anxious. I’ll focus on the rest.

I will be okay. However this turns out, I will be okay.