Page 7 of Old-Fashioned

But I wasn’t chuckling or giggling. I was livid.

Of all the stupid shit this world must deal with, and they did that? To that woman? Someone who shown with nothing but goodness out of her pores? What the ever-loving fuck.

“Why?” I asked with a bite in my tone.

Mr. Anderson shook his head, “Because she wanted them to work for what they had. She didn’t want them to grow up and be spoiled rotten. They didn’t like it. So they went to their father, who handed them everything they could ever want. And they wiped their hands of her. Thinking they are far better off with materialistic things.”

I ranted, “All because they didn’t get what they wanted? They threw a massive temper tantrum?”

He sighed. “Indeed.”

“I better never, and I mean never meet them,” I growled.

Over the next couple of weeks, I kept working at a job I hated, but I did get closer to Mr. Anderson’s son and his wife, and for the first time in my life, other than Miss Maggie, I had friends.

On a particular night, after someone slapped my ass and caused me to lose a tray of drinks, I looked at the bouncer who shrugged his shoulders.

Shrugged his shoulders.

And with that, I had been done.

I had cashed out, ripped my apron off, tossed it on the bar, went to my locker, grabbed my bag, and quit.

It wasn’t until the next morning that I thought about what I wanted to do.

But first, I knew I had to go visit Miss Maggie. So that was what I did.

There with my back against her headstone, the wonderful smell of passion flowers, her favorite flower that a flower shop had flown in for her service, I pulled out the letter she left with Mr. Anderson.

‘My Sweet Birdie,

If you’re reading this, it means I’ve left this earth. But always know, I am never too far away. All you must do is look deep inside your heart, and I will be there.

In case you didn’t know, I’ve left you everything.

And yes, I sold my house. I don’t want you living there, stuck in the same rut.

I want you to leave this town. I want you to leave this state.

Travel.

Make your dreams come true.

Fall in love.

Take chances.

Make yourself smile.

Go and find yourself and who you truly are.

Because you, my Sweet Birdie, are an amazing woman.

When the nights get lonely and you feel like you can’t breathe, walk outside barefoot, take in a deep breath, and look for the brightest star in the sky, that’s where I’ll be.

I love you, dearie.

Go.

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