Chapter 10

Three hours later, we’ve had breakfast and are waiting impatiently when Edna arrives at the house. She looks just like I remember—graying, blonde hair cut short around her head, her warm, silver eyes matching her gray eyeshadow almost perfectly.

We find her at the door with arms loaded with grocery bags.

“You didn’t have to bring us anything,” Cole says, hurrying to take the bags from her arms as he kisses her cheek.

“I know, I know.” She hands them off without a fuss. “But I know how the two of you like to eat.” She winks at me, but there’s a hint of sadness I hadn’t expected. The moment is heavy. It’s been so long since I last saw the woman I considered to be a mother figure. The woman I trusted more than anyone else for most of my life. Her shoulders rise with a deep breath, and she holds her hands out to her sides, waiting to see if I’ll accept her hug. “Bridget.”

In the end, it’s not really a question. No matter how conflicted my feelings are about Edna, she’s the last mother figure I have left. I hug her back, squeezing for an extra long time as I breathe the scent of her citrus perfume.

I’ve missed her.

The thought cracks me open. I’ve missed her so much it hurts. And I’m angry with her. And hurt. And somehow, that all fits inside of me like a neatly packed suitcase.

“It’s good to see you back here,” she says softly, cupping my cheek with her hand.

“It’s…strange…to be back,” I admit. “Thank you for the groceries. You really didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, well, old habits die hard. What can I say? I miss making the weekly grocery run for this place.”

There’s no mistaking the way her voice cracks as she says it. I guess I never really thought about how much it might hurt Edna to leave this house. It was her home for longer than it was mine, and Vera seemed to be her friend. It’s more proof that Vera was a friend to no one—that she left Edna nothing.

“Well, you’re welcome to come back and help us out,” Cole teases. “We haven’t turned your old room into a theater just yet.”

She purses her lips at him.

“I’m serious, this place is much nicer than my apartment. I’ve told you a million times you didn’t have to leave.” His eyes slowly lift toward mine. “As long as my roomie agrees.”

I open my mouth. The idea of being here with the two of them, of being outnumbered, makes my stomach churn with a sensation I don’t quite recognize. Would it be better or worse to have Edna here? “Oh, I?—”

Before I can say anything, Edna is shaking her head. “I’ve told you. I never wanted to stay here after Vera passed. It’s too hard to be here without her. I need to move on. We all need to move on.” Her eyes travel the room with a nostalgic gleam before she shakes her head, blinking back tears, and clears her throat. “Well…” She sighs, running her hands over her hips. “Cole says you’ve gotten some letters you want me to take a look at.”

I nod. “That, among other things.”

“Let’s take a look.” Despite my initial hesitations and worry over seeing her again, just her presence in this house has calmed me, soothed my nerves like a balm. She makes me feel safe, like she always did as a kid. Even now, I feel better knowing that a real adult is here to help sort this out. I wonder how old you have to be before you stop feeling that way?

We make our way into the kitchen where I have laid out the two letters, and Edna picks one up, holding it carefully. I can’t help noticing the way her hands have aged, now wrinkled and with knuckles swollen from arthritis. At first glance, she was every bit the woman I once knew, but upon closer inspection, I see the loose skin around her jaw, the wrinkles in the corners of her eyes—proof she’s been given the privilege of aging, unlike my parents.

I’ll never be able to look at aging as something to avoid or escape. For me, as I inch closer to the age my parents were when they died, I know every day is something to be grateful for.

She reads over the first letter, then the second, before placing them down. Her lips form a hard line, and she leans against the island, resting her chin against her fist.

“And you have no idea where the letters are coming from?”

“No. They’ve been left on the front porch both times. It has to be someone who knows the gate code,” I tell her.

She nods. “Yes, but that could be a lot of people. Vera hasn’t changed it in years. There were so many delivery drivers and service men, ex-employees. It doesn’t help.”

“We found a gun in the wall, just like the letter said,” Cole tells her. “Did you know it was there?”

I’m expecting her to say no, so when she nods hesitantly, chills creep and crawl over my skin like cobwebs.

“I knew Vera kept a gun in the house, yes.” She looks at me. “It was your grandfather’s. She kept it hidden so you kids would never find it, but it was just the two of us here, two women. If someone came in and tried to hurt us, Vera wanted to be prepared.”

I nod, though I still can’t imagine Vera ever harming anyone. Not physically, anyway. No, she preferred to break spirits, not bones.

“And the rest of it? The secrets?” I gesture toward the notes. “The fact that she was dangerous? What do you think? Do you have any idea what they could be talking about? Cole says you mentioned she was fighting with Zach before she died. And that there was an incident with a man yelling at her in the kitchen a few months after I moved in.”

She nods, running a hand over her stomach with a deep inhale. “Why don’t we all sit down?”

Agreeing, I follow her into the sitting room and take a seat on the sofa. Cole sits next to me and Edna takes the armchair, scooting it until it’s directly in front of us. This is eerily reminiscent of the many times Edna lectured us about grades or parties or safe sex from these exact spots.

“To answer your first question, yes. Vera and Zach weren’t seeing eye to eye in the months before she died, but that wasn’t unusual. Before Vera died, when her health was declining, Zach reached out to ask about her will. Vera was adamant she didn’t want anyone except her attorneys to know what was in it until she’d died. She used witnesses provided by the firm and wouldn’t let anyone else know what it held. Of course, your aunt wasn’t happy about that, and Zach made it known.”

I rub my lips together, thinking. “I don’t understand, though. I thought they hadn’t had contact in years.”

Edna takes a deep breath, eyes drifting toward the ceiling with a shake of her head. “Well, if it had been up to Vera, they wouldn’t have. She cut them off, but Jennifer isn’t one to let things go, as you’re probably going to find out. She always thought Vera should be doing more for her boys. She thought she was favoring you, that you got special treatment because you lived with Vera.”

If she only knew.

Edna wrings her hands together in her lap. “When Vera sent them all away, it wasn’t the last she heard from Jennifer, and as the boys got older, they started calling, too. Sending letters, coming to the house and even, a few times, tracking her down and confronting her in public to ask for money for this or that.”

“And did she give them anything?” A lump forms in my throat.

“Never.”

“But why? Why send them away and refuse to help them? I never understood that. Vera had plenty of money.” We both seem to know I’m not only asking about Aunt Jenn and my cousins. “Why would she abandon them?”

Edna sighs, her eyes wide with worry and frustration. “Vera had her reasons. I know you think she was cold. I know you think what she did to you—sending you away—was awful, and I’m inclined to agree with you.” She pats my thigh. “But, sweetheart, she loved you. In the only way she knew how, she loved you. She was complicated and…distant.” She’s clearly choosing her words carefully. “But she wasn’t a bad person.” She glances back into the kitchen. “Whatever those letters say, whoever is sending them, don’t let them tarnish the good memories you have with your grandmother.”

“I don’t know that I had any good memories,” I admit.

“That’s not true. She took you in. She gave you everything you could want.”

“That wasn’t love. She wasn’t the one taking me to doctor’s appointments when I was sick. She wasn’t the one taking me shopping for clothes before each new school year. Or talking me through my first breakup.”

“She paid for those things, Bridget. Gave me the time away from my work to be able to help you through everything. I know you can’t understand it, but Vera was here for you in the only way she knew how to be.”

I inhale deeply. “You’re right, I don’t understand that. I never will. How can you defend her? You were always here for me, and then you just took her side in the end, just packed my bags and sent me on my way.” My voice cracks, and humiliation fills me as tears overflow from my eyes. I didn’t want to do this.

“Sweetheart…” She brushes my tears away, and just like that, I’m twelve years old, with Edna holding me against her chest while I sob over a nightmare about the car crash once again. “It was never about sides. Is that what you’ve thought all these years? Following Vera’s orders never meant I loved you any less. I begged her not to go through with it, but her mind was made up. I did what I had to do, but it never meant I stopped checking up on you or worrying about you.” She smiles through tears of her own. “I love you like you are my own child. As much as I love my own child.” Her eyes find Cole.

He clears his throat. “What about the man in the kitchen that night? Do you remember him?”

“Vera always tried to keep her private life private,” she says, drying her eyes. “That night, it didn’t work. The man you saw was an old friend who’d had too much to drink. A simple misunderstanding.”

“Who was it?” I ask.

“No one you know. I don’t want you to worry about it. It was hard for Vera to date, you understand, being who she was. Wealthy, well known. But that didn’t mean she never got lonely. Sometimes men misunderstood her intentions.”

I swallow. The idea of Vera dating feels impossible. She hid so much of herself from me, but I never imagined a whole part of her daily life could be concealed.

“Tell me. Have you kids talked about selling the house?” Edna asks, running her hands over her legs.

“Jenn and Zach want us to,” I admit.

“They’ve been here?” Her eyes widen.

“Both of them, yeah.”

“They’re never going to let it go.” She sighs. “Maybe you should sell. To them or someone else. And get away. From this. From everything.”

“You really think so?” Cole asks, his voice hitching with the surprise that I feel.

Edna doesn’t answer for a while, but eventually, she says, “I know better than anyone what a complicated person Vera was. I have no idea why she wanted you to have this house, and I’m trying to respect her wishes, but I also need to look out for the both of you. If being here isn’t what makes you happy, sell. These are your lives to live. Vera can’t control them anymore.”

There is no malice in her voice, only sadness. Longing that I really don’t understand.

“Why did you stay for so long?” I ask her. “She was cold to you as well. Didn’t you ever think about finding another job?”

“As a person, Vera was…complex, but she was also my best friend.” Tears well in her eyes. “I loved her with everything I had. She gave me a home. A job. Despite everything, she was the closest thing I ever had to a sister. We loved each other in a way that’s hard to explain. We…we understood each other. And she didn’t always have it easy, you know. After your grandfather died.” She studies me, begging me to understand like she always has. But back then, she was asking me to forgive her for hurting other people—my aunt, my cousins. Now, it’s me Vera has hurt, and I’m not sure how I’ll ever forgive her for that.

“Your experience with Vera wasn’t mine,” I say, carefully picking the words as I go. “I know I don’t know everything about her, but someone does. And I’m not leaving this house until I learn the truth.”