Page 7 of Your Every Wish

“Oh my God, it stinks in here.”

“I’ll light the candles,” Emma says. “It seems to help. That and keeping the windows open.”

I can’t believe I’m back. It’s only been less than a week since the first time we visited.

But unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how I look at it—this smelly sardine can of a double-wide has to be home sweet home.

At least for now, thanks to Brock Sterling, or more accurately Madge Jenkins, and to some extent Caesars Palace.

“Your room is down there.” Emma points at the narrow hallway.

“I presume you took the primary.”

“No, I gave it to you.”

“Now, why the hell would you do that?” My half sister confounds me. This sweet-as-pie thing she does has got to be an act.

“I liked the view better in the other bedroom. Besides, I’m coming from a studio, so I’m used to small spaces and probably have less stuff than you.” She eyes my pile of luggage warily.

“Why is it again that you’re here?” I know she told me but who can remember with all that’s happened in the last several days? “And I see you took the office sign down.”

She follows me into the bedroom and plops down on the bed.

God knows how long this mobile home has been vacant and the bedding collecting dust. The first thing I plan to do as soon as I unpack is strip the mattress and remake it with my own sheets and blankets.

We should probably fumigate the entire place, which comes fully furnished straight out of the Goodwill.

“My building in San Francisco is being torn down for luxury condos,” Emma says. “It was either this or my mom’s couch. And since I work remotely, I opted for this, figuring some fresh scenery would do me good.”

“What about the boyfriend? I thought you said you’ve been together forever. Doesn’t he have room?”

“He thinks it would be bad for our relationship. Anyway, I like it here.”

No one could possibly like it here. And as for the boyfriend. . . well, he sounds like a jerk. But aren’t they all. Not my problem, I remind myself.

“What about you?” Emma says. “I have to say I was super surprised when you called, when you wanted to stay.”

“Well, when that Misty woman said the office was the owners’ quarters, I figured it would be good to stay on the premises until we list the place. Make sure to hold down the fort, so to speak.”

“Right.” Emma hitches her brows, dubious.

She isn’t as ditzy as she comes off. But I don’t want to get into the real reason I’m here with someone I hardly know. Or anyone for that matter.

“Should we go over some rules?” I start putting my clothes away in the dingy little closet.

“Rules? Rules for what?”

“Roommate rules.” It’s been a long time since I shared a space with someone and while I like to think of myself as flexible, I’m not. “You know, stuff like how to divvy up the space and who cleans what.”

“Oh, I’m good with whatever you want. Just make a chore list and tack it to the fridge and I’ll do my part.”

“Is there a fridge?” I hadn’t even looked.

“Yep. It’s old but it’s working. I’ll move my stuff to the bottom shelf so you can have the top, since you’re taller than me.”

“Are you always this accommodating?”

Emma laughs but it’s a nervous little laugh. “I guess. Why shouldn’t I be?”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to say Because you’ll always get the short end of the stick , but why ruin my advantage?

Emma peers out the window at my BMW. “Is that your car out there, or a rental?”

“It’s mine. Why?” Surprisingly, it made it all the way from Vegas without breaking down.

“Just that it’s good that at least one of us has a car.”

I dart a glance at the driveway. Sure enough there’s only one car parked on the gravel drive. Mine. “How did you get here?”

“Dex drove me.”

What kind of a son of a bitch drops a woman without a car in the middle of nowhere? How is she supposed to get to a grocery store . . . or anywhere? “How have you been managing without a ride?”

“There’s a bus that runs to town twice a week. Super convenient. Much cleaner than Muni, that’s for sure. But maybe later, when you’re settled in, we can go to the market and pick up some groceries. I’ve got sodas and beer but I’m running low on food.”

“Yeah, sure.” Usually, I grab a bite at one of the restaurants in Caesars, so this is going to take a little getting used to.

Having a roommate is going to take a lot of getting used to.

But I try to take it in stride because it beats the hell out of a cell at the Clark County Detention Center.

Then I glance around my new digs with its dirty shag carpeting and dark-paneled walls and reconsider. Maybe jail’s better.

I finish hanging my clothes in the closet.

The rod sags under the few clothing items I brought with me.

Emma follows me into the primary bath and starts handing me my toiletries to put away in the vanity, which must’ve been installed before either of us was born.

The counter only comes up to my hips, the drawers stick, and the mirror seems to be permanently fogged.

“It’s not so bad,” Emma says.

“If you say so.”

“If we painted the paneling a bright white and got a few rugs to cover the carpet it could be really cozy.”

“Sure. A veritable Palace of Versailles.”

“If you hate it so much, why did you come?” Emma challenges.

Because I had no choice . “Because I want to get this place sold and I can’t do that from Vegas.”

“There is no ‘I!’ We’re”—and she emphasizes the “we” in “we’re”—“going to do our due diligence before we make any rash decisions.”

“Of course,” I say just to appease her. As far as I’m concerned there’s no due diligence to do other than list the dump and take the money and run. “But I need to be here for that. Grab your purse and let’s go to the market.”

Outside, that guy from the pool the other day is lurking around, trying to act inconspicuous. “Hey,” I yell at him. “Are you the groundskeeper around here?”

“No, I live here.”

Why? I want to say because unlike the others, he looks normal. Young. Or at least younger than the average age of the people who live here, which is ancient. He’s even kind of hot in a clean-cut, kind of lost way.

“Do you need something done?” he says to Emma, not me.

“I don’t think so.” She smiles at him, and he turns bright red. “But thanks for offering.”

We get in the car, and I turn to her. “Maybe he can fix that broken window in the living room.”

“Kennedy, it’s not his job. You heard him. He lives here, he’s not a handyman.”

“Jeez, he’s the one who offered. And critters can get in, not to mention cold air. It’s almost winter.”

“I’m not going to ask some random dude to fix our stuff. We can call a glass company if you want it fixed.”

There’s a tap on my window and I jerk around to find Misty standing there. She’s got on a jogging suit, the pants tucked into a pair of Ugg boots. I turn on the ignition and unroll the window.

“Hi.”

“I see you’re back. We’re having a meeting tonight at six in the clubhouse. We’d love for you and Emma to attend.”

“Great,” I mutter under my breath. Here we go.

“We’ll be there,” Emma promises.

Big mistake, but whatever.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Misty peers into the car, looking us both up and down. “It’s exactly what you need right now given the state of your lives. See you tonight.”

I wait until she walks away and say, “What was that about? Like, what the hell does she know about the state of our lives ? Is it me or was that weird?”

“A little bit, yeah. But I like her vibe. It’s different.”

Apparently, it doesn’t take much to please Emma, including the crappy trailer we’ll be living in until I can sell the place.

I back out of the driveway, exit Cedar Pines, and grab the two-lane highway to Ghost.

“Did you see that article in the New York Times yesterday about a Malibu trailer park where even a single-wide trailer can fetch up to seven figures?” Emma shifts in her seat.

“Nope, I don’t get the New York Times . But this ain’t Malibu.”

“Maybe not but it could be. Not Malibu, of course. But a coveted place to live. We’re only an hour away from some of the best skiing in California, perhaps even the world.

People come here from all over to go white-water rafting, panning for gold, mountain climbing, hiking, boating, you name it.

I’ve done a lot of research, and did you know this is one of the top places in California where people own second homes?

Shouldn’t we try to capitalize on that?”

“Absolutely. When we put it on the market, we’ll make sure to tout all that in the marketing materials.”

Emma lets out a huff. “At least consider what we could do with the place before you make up your mind about selling it. How do you know we won’t be leaving money on the table?”

“Because I’ve looked at the books. Is that where I turn for the grocery store?” I nudge my head at the highway sign.

“No, it’s another exit up the road. What books?”

“The ones that were included in our package from Mr. Townsend.”

“Oh. I haven’t had time to look at them yet.”

I slide her a sideways glance. “I suggest you do. It’s not pretty. Cedar Pines is a money pit. Our money pit now.”

“How can it be? As far as I can tell no one has spent a dime on the place in the last decade or two.”

“Here?” I ask as we approach the exit.

“Yeah. Then follow the signs to downtown.”

It really is a quaint little town if you’re into the whole country thing. The leaves on the trees have all turned color and everything looks so clean, like someone scrubbed the sidewalks with antiseptic wipes. Not a homeless person in sight.

“The shopping center on the right.” Emma points to a tiny strip mall with a supermarket, coffee shop, and hair salon. “There’s another grocery store up the road, but this one has better produce.” Emma has obviously scoped out the food situation here.

I’d rather just eat out. The trailer is so dodgy that the mere thought of eating there is enough to lose my appetite.