Page 5 of Your Every Wish

Other than the fact that we have the same color eyes, we don’t look much alike, I think, as I slide a sideways glance at Kennedy.

Yesterday, she looked like a movie star in her glamorous clothes.

I could never get away with wearing a pantsuit.

But unlike me, she has legs that go on for miles.

Even in a pair of jeans and T-shirt, she’s a freaking supermodel.

One thing she’s not is a talker. We’ve been driving forty-five minutes and have barely said two words. Her face seems to be permanently planted in her phone.

“How was the Fairmont?” I’ve lived in San Francisco my whole life and have never been inside the storied hotel.

“Fine. Are we almost there?”

“No.” I laugh because she sounds like a little kid on a road trip.

“We have at least another hour. It’s a really cool town.

You’ll love it.” When she doesn’t respond, I ramble on, hoping to distract her from her phone and engage her in a conversation.

“During the Gold Rush, this family that had staked a sizeable claim was murdered in its sleep. The legend goes that you can still hear them crying in the night. That’s why the place is called Ghost.”

“Sounds dreadful.”

“I think it’s more fiction than fact. You know, a marketing tool to get people to come and visit.”

“People are weird,” she says. “So, have you seen this development?”

“Nope. Not in real life, anyway. But I Googled it last night. I wasn’t even aware that he owned real estate in California. Were you?”

“No. I knew next to nothing about the man or his assets.” Kennedy shoots me a look as if I was somehow privy to the workings of the elusive Willy Keil.

“Our father was definitely a mystery,” I say.

“I don’t know that I would call him my father. DNA donor is more like it.”

“So you work for Caesars, huh?” I change the subject because shitty father aside, he’s dead now. What’s the use of dragging him? He did after all name us in his will, which is at least something.

“Yes. I’m a casino host. How did you know about Caesars?”

“I looked you up once.” More than once. I have kind of been keeping tabs on her from a distance but don’t want to come off as a stalker. “Were you ever curious about me?”

There’s a long silence, then, “A little, I guess.”

“Well, ask me anything you want to know.”

She waits a few seconds, clearly deliberating on what she’ll open with. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m an advice columnist for an alternative newspaper.

” I get the feeling she already knows this.

My assumption is she’s been doing a little stalking of her own.

“It’s a really fun job. Probably not as exciting as being a casino host but I like it.

Dex thinks I’m wasting my time because the job doesn’t pay all that well, but—”

“Who’s Dex?”

“My boyfriend. We’ve been dating on and off for the last nine and a half years. How ’bout you? Are you involved with anyone . . . married?”

She snorts. “God, no. And I’m too busy to date. I can’t remember the last time I even had a day off. Well, today, I guess. And yesterday. And still I’m being inundated with messages.” She holds up her phone and waves it in the air.

Some might think Kennedy Jenkins is a bit too self-important for her own good. Or perhaps she’s masking some deep-rooted insecurities. I don’t know her well enough to judge, so I nod instead while I change lanes.

We drive the rest of the way mostly in silence, taking in the roadside restaurants, farmstands, gas stations, and the occasional motor lodge as we climb into Northern California’s scenic foothills.

“You mind finding the address?”

She reaches in her purse for the slip of paper from Mr. Townsend’s office and asks Siri for directions.

We have two more exits. It feels a lot like Christmas morning and the anticipation of unwrapping the large mystery package under the tree.

I could only glean so much from the Cedar Pines Estates website.

But what I saw made me smitten. Gorgeous log cabins, towering pine trees, and breathtaking mountain views. Even Dex was impressed.

My ears pop as we ascend higher, leaving the interstate for a windy road that dumps us out onto a two-lane highway where we pass a stretch of fast-food chains. I unroll my window and stick my hand in the air. It’s cooler here than it was in San Francisco.

Kennedy is struggling to keep her blond hair from whipping around in the wind, so I quickly send the window back up.

“Sorry.”

The sides of the highway are lined with pine trees and the silhouette of mountains loom large in the distance. Soon, they’ll be snowcapped from the first winter dusting. We cross a bridge over a creek, where two fishermen are standing at the water’s edge, casting a line.

“According to the directions, we’re less than three miles away,” Kennedy says, and for the first time, I hear excitement in her voice.

“It’s pretty here, right?”

She shrugs. “It’s kind of in the middle of nowhere.”

I want to ask her if she saw the Taco Bell and Burger King we just passed less than ten minutes ago. Hardly the middle of nowhere. But it’s obviously more small town than what either of us is used to.

“Wait until you see Ghost,” I say. “It’s like a postcard picture.”

“I think our turn is coming up.”

That’s when I see the sign off the highway that advertises Cedar Pines Estates.

I wait for a tractor trailer to pass in the opposite direction before hanging a left onto a rutted dirt road, then bump along through a rotted ranch gate.

The letter L is missing on the welcome sign, so it just says, WE COME.

I’m pretty sure this is wrong. It looks nothing like the pictures. “This can’t be right. Are you sure you have the right address?”

“Very sure.”

I follow an arrow to the office only to find a ramshackle doublewide.

I park in the gravel driveway, rest my arms on the dashboard, and stare out the windshield at the trailer, which according to the hand-painted wooden plaque on the door is indeed the Cedar Pines Estates office.

“This is not what I saw on the internet. Nope, this isn’t it at all. ”

“That son of a bitch,” Kennedy hisses. “He left us a goddamned trailer park!”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I say. “This has got to be a mistake.”

Kennedy gets out of the car and heads for the office. I race after her but not in time to stop her from banging on the door like a crazed lunatic.

“Calm down,” I say, afraid that we’re making a scene and will be kicked off the property before we get answers. “I’m telling you this is the wrong Cedar Pines.”

“How can it be? This is the address the lawyer gave us. I don’t know what you saw on the internet, but this is it. This is the piece of crap that useless excuse for a father left us.”

“Shush.” I put my finger to my lips. “Everyone can hear us.”

A small crowd has started to assemble in the driveway next door and they’re all staring at us.

“Can I help you?” A woman in a robe, slippers, and hot curlers, holding a cat, crosses the driveway to join us. “No one’s there. The office has been vacant for months.”

Before Kennedy bites her head off, I quickly intercept the lady.

“I’m so sorry if we disturbed you. My, uh .

. . sister . . . and I are probably in the wrong place.

Our father recently passed away and he left us .

. . well, he left us a place called Cedar Pines Estates, but I think it’s another Cedar Pines Estates.

” I quickly cue up the website I found on the internet and show it to her.

“Would you happen to know where this Cedar Pines Estates is?”

She turns my phone sideways and gazes down at the homepage of a beautifully manicured planned community that looks nothing like this Cedar Pines Estates. “That’s up the highway, on the other side of Ghost.”

I shoot Kennedy a look as if to say, I told you so .

Kennedy shoves the lawyer’s letter at the woman and points to the address. “Is this where we are?”

“Yep.” She gives Kennedy a once-over, then turns her gaze on me, then flashes both of us a toothy grin. “Looks like you’re in the right place.”

The cat squirms out of her arms, jumps to the ground, and takes off.

The woman doesn’t seem concerned, so I don’t offer to go after it. The crowd has grown since I last looked. It’s a motley group of senior citizens that has assembled around our car.

“You moving in?” asks a skinny man in a pair of swim trunks, flip-flops, and nothing else. Judging from his pale concave chest, he hasn’t seen much sun in the last decade. And though it’s a nice day, it’s a little nippy for lounging poolside.

“Harry, put some clothes on, for God’s sake.” This from the woman in the robe and slippers, who turns to the rest of crowd. “They’re the new owners.”

An excited murmur goes up in the group.

A grandmotherly lady with a mop of gray hair and a wardrobe straight out of the Chico’s catalog steps forward. “Let me show you around.”

“That would be great,” I say, resigned to the fact that the trailer park is the Cedar Pines Estates old Willy has left us. It’s not the other one. The better one. May as well make the best of it.

“Harry,” she says to the swimsuit man, “go fetch your golf cart. ”

Harry goes off to do her bidding as the group of bystanders closes in on us, sizing us up like we’re a juicy piece of steak. There doesn’t appear to be a person under sixty in the bunch.

“You gonna fix the pool?” a woman in a Santana concert tee with salt-and-pepper dreadlocks asks.

“I guess . . . yes, of course.” I say, then feel a sharp elbow in my side.

“We’re not the owners,” Kennedy says.

“But I thought you just said you inherited the place from your late father.” The cat woman cinches her robe tighter.

“Yes, but there’s still a lot of paperwork left to be done and several of Willy’s other children are contesting the will. So who knows if we’ll ever take ownership.” Kennedy catches my dazed expression and wills me with her eyes to keep my mouth shut.