Page 14 of Writing On The Wall

The hope blooming in her expression quickly eclipses my remorse after allowing her to make those incorrect assumptions about my current relationship status. And it’s actually kind of ideal, having a place to call home that also happens to be the setting of so many special memories. After all, Gran’s house used to be my favorite escape when life got to be too much. Itwas the one place where I didn’t have to keep pretending everything was perfect.

“I know it’s a lot to take on, and you’ll probably have to be frugal with the renovation budget. I’m not exactly sure how much work it needs or how far the funds will go. But it’ll be such a fun project, I’m sure!”

She looks so delighted, I can’t bring myself to dull the joy that seems to emanate from her entire being. And I feel even less guilty about accepting this gift when I remind myself that I’m the one who’s been left to deal with Ross and his many screwups. He’s always required so much attention and disciplinethat I had no choice but to be uncomplicated and un-needy.

A lifetime of wearing this mask and faking being okay coupled with the responsibilities I’m still shouldering have earned this. And accepting the house will solve some pretty big problems while allowing me to fulfill my sweet Gran’s dreams at the same time.

I think I can make this work. I’ll have to let Toby know our fake dating goes both ways now, but that shouldn’t be a problem.

Gran’s voice brings me back as she digs in a drawer and pulls out a file folder. “Yes, here it is.” She looks up at me. “I’ll phone my accountant in the morning. He’ll get you sorted with the financial side of things. But here’s a key to the front door, at least.” She places the key in my palm, closing her hands over mine.

“Thank you for accepting this gift, Ivy. You’re going to do such a great job.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

IVY

I leave Gran’s and head back across the road to find Opal and Gail peering into my car with their hands cupped against the glass like a pair of curious meerkats.

Dang it.

“Yup…I told ya, Gail. The girl’s definitely living in her car.”

As I approach, Opal turns to face me, one fist on her hip and the other resting against the side of my Toyota. Meanwhile, Gail continues inspecting the contents of my car, doubt etched on her brow as if she can’t believe I’d do something so foolish. I wish I wasn’t about to disappoint her.

“I’m not living in my car,” I begin.

Opal says nothing, but the slits in her eyes narrow as she dials up the intensity in her stare. How do older people gain this skill?

Congratulations on reaching the age of sixty-five! Sneezing might throw your back, but it’s not all bad—You’ve gained a superpower: when you stare at young people, they spill their guts!

“Notanymore.”I emphasize, folding my arms.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Gail rounds the car to wrap her arms around me, enveloping me in her flowery scent. She’s always the good cop. Opal, on the other hand, relishes her role as the intimidating bad cop. I know she’s soft on the inside, but she’ll make you work hard to reach that part of her.

We sink down onto the steps that are still bathed in evening sun, the bees buzzing in the oasis around us. I’m sandwiched between Opal and Gail, each with an arm looped through mine.

“Look, Opal,” Gail squeaks, shaking the link of our arms. “It’s our favorite mailman…mhmmm…the suspenders on that one. Makes me wanna just walk up to him andsnap ‘em.”

“I’ll be sure to bring you fresh underwear and soap when you’re in jail. Now will you pipe down so the girl can tell us her story?”

“Right, sorry, Ivy.” I catch her executing one more ogle at the poor mailman before she scoots closer.

“What’s goin’ on sugar?”

“You sure I can’t ask that nice mailman to come over and do some push-ups?” I deflect.

“Gail!” Opal scolds when she catches her friend’s eyes straying back to the mailman.

“Oh, I’ll catch him tomorrow. Spill,” Gail demands.

“Ugh! Fine.” I wipe my hands down my face. “Ross has landed himself in a bit of trouble.” Opal snorts but I continue. “He’s trying, I swear. But his problems may have sorta spilled over into mine this time.”

“You gave him money again, didn’t you?” Opal accuses.

“He swore he only needed it for a few days.”

“Oh, honey,” Gail coos in a comforting voice, rubbing circles over my back.

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