Page 24 of Your Every Wish

“Did you get it?” I call through the front door, ready to bolt at any minute.

“Not yet. He’s a sly little fellow.”

“Okay. Just tell me when the coast is clear.”

“Will do.”

When I got home from the bank there was a lizard in the pantry. And while I’m not proud of this, I jumped up on the table and screamed bloody murder like one of those characters in a cartoon show. Luckily, Liam happened to be passing by, heard me, and came to the rescue.

I’m not afraid of much, but lizards give me the creeps.

My mom, too. When I was little, we went to Southern California to visit my aunt just outside of Palm Springs and they were everywhere, even in the house, sunning on the windowsills.

We had to cut our trip short when my mother found one in the shower.

I would diagnose her as having herpetophobia, a fear of reptiles.

I hate them but I wouldn’t call my discomfort a phobia. Just an intense disgust.

“Got it,” Liam calls from the kitchen.

“Don’t kill it, just let it go, but far away from the house.”

“I’m coming out,” he warns, and I run for cover and duck behind Kennedy’s car.

“All done,” he says a few seconds later. “It’s safe to come out.”

I come around the car to find him holding a broom pan, which I didn’t know I owned. I’ve been using the cordless vacuum to clean the floors.

I throw my arms around him and give him a great big hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

He chuckles and hugs me back and for a second we stand together, embracing. He’s warm and smells deliciously of coffee and laundry detergent. Then, awkwardly, I pull away, remembering myself.

“They’re everywhere, you know?” he says.

“Yep. Not much I can do about ’em except get used to them.” Fat chance of that but what else can I do?

“You want coffee or hot apple cider?” There was a big display at the grocery store next to the bank and I thought to myself, why not?

It’s autumn and hot apple cider on a cold day seems so festive.

And something I’d never drink in San Francisco.

I was in the process of putting it away when I spotted the lizard.

“Cider sounds good.”

We take the party into the kitchen, where I pour the cider into a small pot to heat on the stovetop.

“Do you know who lived here before we moved in?” Whoever it was must’ve left in a hurry because the place was fully stocked when Kennedy and I moved in.

“Ginger Croft. She was the property manager, at least in title?” When I give him a quizzical look, he says, “She didn’t do a whole lot around here, mostly drove around in a golf cart, yelling at people to pull their trash cans in after garbage pickup.

No one liked her after she told Ralph Perez that his grandkids couldn’t visit anymore because they’d splashed her in the pool. ”

“People swim in that?”

“It wasn’t as bad then as it is now. Giddy Carmichael used to keep up the pool chemicals, even paid for the chlorine himself. But he moved away seven months ago, and no one has taken over the chore since.”

I’ll take it over. By summer the water will be crystal clear. I’ve heard that temperatures here can reach 100 degrees and am looking forward to having a swimming pool to jump into when those days come.

“What happened to Ginger?” I ask.

“She died. Had a heart attack while driving around in her golf cart. Harry called 911 but by the time the paramedics got here it was too late. She was pronounced dead at Ghost General. ”

“She didn’t have family?” I gaze around the kitchen at all the household goods she left behind: a toaster oven, pots and pans, cleaning supplies, dishes, glassware, the furniture, all the things we’re making good use of.

“Not that I’m aware of. I’m sure someone at the hospital would’ve notified them if she had.”

“Sad.”

He hitches his shoulders. “Yeah. Harry was pretty broken up about it. He’d performed CPR on her until the paramedics came; it’s probably what kept her alive until they got her to the hospital. But there wasn’t much more he could do.”

I get two mugs down from the cupboard and pour us each a cup of the simmering cider.

The room smells of apples and spices, like fall.

And just like that I’m transported back to a Christmas spent in Twain Harte with Mom.

She’d gotten a bonus that year from Dr. Kumar and we decided to splurge on a cabin in the Sierra.

It was my last year of high school, and she wanted the holiday to be special, our last hurrah before I went off to Santa Cruz.

It snowed and we spent three glorious days inside by the fire, reading and watching old movies.

Liam sips his cider. “This is nice. Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do after you slayed the lizard.” Well, at least relocated it as per my wishes. It’s not its fault that it’s creepy as all get out. Besides, I’ve been told they help keep the bugs down.

“Misty says you have a boyfriend who lives in San Francisco.”

“Mm-hmm. He works for Charles Schwab. Most trading is online now, so technically he can work from anywhere, but he needs to be close to the Financial District and the Pacific Exchange. ”

Liam nods. “It must be tough maintaining a long-distance relationship. ”

“It’s not that far. And he comes up often.” The lie just slips out because the truth is Dex hasn’t come here once since he dropped me off. “And I was just down there, so it all works out. What about you? Are you seeing someone?”

But before he can answer, the screen door slams and Kennedy rushes in like a winter storm.

“That son of a bitch!”

“Who?” I say.

It takes her a moment to notice that I’m not alone. “Hey, Liam.”

“Hi, Kennedy.”

“What’s going on?” I pull out a kitchen chair for her and pour another cup of cider.

She looks winded and her face is all splotchy and red. Clearly, something has happened to make her angry. My mind immediately goes to Brock Sterling. Had he called off the deal? Were the police involved again?

Liam is pretty good at reading a room because he gets up, puts his mug in the sink, and suddenly remembers that he has somewhere else to be.

As soon as he is well out of earshot, I make Kennedy tell me what’s going on.

“Bent McCourtney is a piece of crap.”

I sigh with relief. This has nothing to do with Sterling and the thirty thousand dollars. Well, now forty thousand. “Did you fight about his rock wall again?”

“No. He thinks this place is only worth twenty thousand dollars. Can you imagine that? Twenty thousand dollars. You can’t even buy a new car these days for twenty thousand dollars, let alone eighty-six acres in California.”

“Did he make an offer or something on Cedar Pines? Why would he give you an unsolicited value of our property?”

She sniffs the cider, then takes a sip. “I may have mentioned that we might be interested in selling.”

“Why did you do that, Kennedy?” She promised to give me time and not make any rash decisions concerning the park.

One year is the time I tell my readers to give themselves after the death of a loved one before making any big decisions in their lives, such as selling a house, changing careers, or moving out of the country.

I may not have been close with Willy but I’m still in mourning.

I need time. Time to grieve and time to parse my relationship—or in this case my nonexistent relationship—with my late father and this gift he left us.

“You said you would wait until I was ready.”

“That was before I had twenty-five days to come up with what may as well be an impossible fortune. I only threw it out there to see his reaction, to see if he would bite. I wasn’t going to do anything without you.”

“I don’t care, you still shouldn’t have given him false hope. You heard what Misty said. This land is his family’s legacy and you dangled it in front of him without my permission.”

“Okay, first of all, he’s a complete and utter asshole, so don’t go feeling sorry for him.

And second of all, you want to get back to your old life and Dex as much as I want to resume my old life.

We can’t do that from here—or in my case from a prison cell.

We can’t do that while managing a run-down trailer park.

All I wanted to see is if we were willing to sell, would he be willing to pay a good price for the place. That’s all, so relax.”

“Where did he come up with the twenty thousand figure?” I’m not forgiving her for what she did. She had no business talking to Brent McCourtney alone about something that belongs to both of us. But I am curious why he threw out that number.

“Out of his ass, that’s where. He said it to infuriate me.”

Clearly it worked. “Start from the beginning. Tell me how this all came about.”

She goes through the story, starting with Bent’s “stupid house,” which sounds pretty spectacular to me.

“He built it himself?” I say.

“So he says but who knows? The man is a natural-born liar. In fact, let’s go.” She pulls me up from the table and drags me to the door.

“Wait! Where are we going?”

“You’ll see. Get in the car.”

“God, you’re bossy.” I fish through my purse and hand over the BMW key ring.

She gets behind the wheel, waits for me to buckle up before pulling onto the highway. Twenty minutes later, we’re hopelessly lost.

“If you tell me where we’re going I might be able to help.”

“McCourtney Road. It’s got to be close by because Bent said it was contiguous with his property.”

“Why don’t you use your GPS?” Duh. For someone with as much street smarts as Kennedy, she can be pretty dense sometimes.

“Oh, yeah, I didn’t think of that. Siri, get me directions to McCourtney Road.”

Siri delivers and don’t you know, McCourtney Road is five seconds from Cedar Pines. We could’ve bypassed the highway and simply taken a paved fire road behind the park that meets up with McCourtney.

“What’s the address?” I ask, gazing out the window at miles of grassy rolling hills, an occasional irrigation pond, and a few rickety barns that dot the landscape.

“I don’t have one.”