Page 38 of Your Every Wish
“He doesn’t know we were there that night. In fact, he told us we couldn’t go, that the Department of Justice had turned down our request. So to ask him to get us the original would be admitting that we went anyway. That we broke the law. He could probably lose his law license if anyone found out.”
Misty takes another sip of wine. “Send it to me. The picture. I’ll see what I can do after a good night’s sleep. You never know, maybe I’ll have some luck.”
“Okay. That would be great. Give me your email address and I’ll send it right now.” I’m buoyed by hope. She found those missing kids, didn’t she? She can do this, too.
“Don’t get too excited,” she says. “I’ll do the best I can but it’s a long shot, you understand?”
“I do. But try really hard, okay?”
On my way home, I see Hadley Ralston sitting on his front porch, shooting flies with one of his gizmos. This one looks like a Star Wars lightsaber.
“Nice night,” he calls to me.
It is a nice night. The stars are out and the sky is clear, but it’s getting colder every day.
The smell of wood smoke wafts through the air and it makes me think of Thanksgiving and Christmas.
We were never big on holidays in our household.
On Thanksgiving, Mom used to get us dinner from Boston Market; we loved their dressing and cranberry sauce.
Looking back on it, it was probably out of a can.
We would exchange gifts on Christmas like any family.
Nothing too extravagant—a new jacket or shoes for me, and something I usually made for Mom at school.
She still has my macaroni Christmas tree somewhere.
Some of the girls from Mom’s dance company would have us over for dinner.
The dancers called it their Orphan Christmas.
They’d drink and laugh and tell stories about the shows they’d been in, and the celebrities they’d performed with.
One of the women, Shawna Wallace, had danced with Ike and Tina Turner back in the day.
She was older than the rest of the women but could still kick as high and shake her hips like the best of them.
The party was sweet but a little sad. I always wondered what it would be like to spend Christmas like a regular family. Looking back on it now, we’d made our own family. I wish I’d been more grateful for that.
I’m not ready to go home yet. The idea of bumping into Dex in his underwear in the hallway . . . ew. And the beauty of Cedar Pines is how safe it feels. Even though it’s late, there’s still plenty of people out, walking dogs, sitting on their porches, taking moonlit strolls.
I head to the bocce ball courts. It’s a straight shot from Misty’s and a doable walk in my three-inch-heeled Cole Haan boots.
In other words, these boots aren’t made for walking, but they sure look good.
If I planned to stay here, I’d get a pair of hiking boots like everyone else around here wears.
They’re not particularly attractive but practical for the mountains.
I pull my jacket tighter and pick up the pace to warm up.
Some of the trailers are lit up with Halloween lights, which seems silly because there are no kids living here and I doubt this is a hot spot for trick-or-treaters.
The nearest house is Bent’s, and I didn’t see any sign of children when I was there.
Maybe he keeps them locked up in the basement.
In the spirit of pissing him off, I sit on his wall and dangle my legs over on his side of the property, letting them swing back and forth.
The rocks are cold, even through my jeans.
But it’s off the beaten path and quiet, allowing me to be alone with my disappointment.
I’d had such high hopes that Misty would untangle the mystery of the paper we found and lead us straight to the money. But no such luck.
In the distance, I can see that Bent’s lights are still on and I consider crossing his field and making him a deal. Enough playing around. I’ve got something he wants and if we can agree on a satisfactory price, I’ll sell to him.
Emma may put up a fight, but in the long run she’ll realize it’s for the best. We’ll both walk away with more than we have, and she can live happily ever after with Dex.
And at least the property will go to someone who has history here, someone who loves it.
Someone who won’t turn it into a strip mall or big box store.
Perhaps we can even work out a deal to help relocate the folks at Cedar Pines.
There are other mobile home parks in the area, places that have better upkeep, where the swimming pool doesn’t look like green goo, the pond isn’t a swamp, and the streetlights aren’t broken.
They can resume their canasta meet-ups and their Halloween potlucks and continue to live their best lives.
It doesn’t have to be bad, I tell myself. And I don’t need a fortune, just enough to stop the clock because I’m running out of time.
I can see my breath in the cold air. Bent’s lights are still shining bright in his contemporary palace. Just a five-minute walk to freedom. But I can’t seem to make myself move. It’s as if my entire body is being weighed down with concrete. Or the heft of the world.
Willy Keil giveth and Willy Keil taketh away.
The man was a negligent father in life and a taunting son of a bitch in death. I look up at the stars and silently curse him for not doing better. For me, for Emma, for our mothers. Then I remind myself that we did just fine all on our own.
I force myself off the rock wall, ready to cross the pasture to Bent’s house. Ready to make him a deal. I’m two steps out when my phone rings. Kind of late even for Madge to call. Not Madge, Misty.
I answer with my heart in my mouth. “Hey. What’s up?”
“Get back over here.”