Page 11 of When Sparks Fly

“Essentially, dividing up any property and funds as Ruthie wanted. She didn’t leave any debts and the assets are limited to the house, car, and a couple bank accounts. And you all lucked out because Texas has no inheritance tax. Legal costs have already been covered, so there shouldn’t be anything to worry about before everything is divided as she requested.”

She nods and whispers a thank you, going back to staring at the document in her hands.

“The last step is a hearing to close out the probate process, which I will attend.” He leaves another moment of quiet. “Any questions?”

“We’ll be sure to go through this in detail.” Alan doesn’t look up from the paperwork in his hands as he addresses Hank. If there is going to be anyargument to what’s contained in the will, it will be from him. I couldn’t care less if I’ve been left anything or what it is. I’d rather have my grandmother, or at the very least, be free from all of the tension within my family.

Stephanie doesn’t wait for anyone else to respond before standing and reaching out to shake Hank’s hand again. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Campbell. We look forward to your updates.”

“My pleasure.” His formal tone doesn’t go unnoticed. I press my lips together, hiding the rush of glee that races through me at his ability to see through Stephanie.

Randi and Liv murmur gratitude and I stand upright from my place at the countertop. “I’ll walk you out.”

He nods and closes his briefcase, before heading toward the door as I follow with Nana’s will in hand.

At the door, I stop him. “One sec.” I hurry to my room, swapping the will for a business card.

“Shouldn’t I be giving youmycard?” he asks pleasantly when I hand it over.

“You can do that, too.” I gesture to his hand. “For updates. I’ll handle Stephanie and Alan.”

Understanding fills his eyes. “You got it.” He puts the card in the pocket of his suit jacket. “Nice to meet you, Maci. Ruthie spoke so highly of you and Liv.” He presses his lips together in a tight smile and I assume in a way, he’s experienced her loss as well.

“Thanks.” I swallow and open the door for him. “Bye, Hank.”

Stephanie and Randi depart to finalize details at the funeral home while Alan retreats upstairs. Liv and I curl onto the living room couches, reminiscing over vacations and sleepovers at Nana’s, and catching up on the past few months.

“Oh my God, do you remember when Nana let us camp in the backyard?” Liv’s eyes are huge and excited.

“Yes!” We were ecstatic. “We thought we were so independent at ten.”

“And then it rained.”

“She was so mad we tracked water in!” We laugh hysterically. Nana was so angry. She made us clean the floors and take down the tent by ourselves. Thinking back, I don’t think we minded. We were just happy to have some dedicated time with our only cousin.

Before long, people start showing up with food, flowers, and way too many hugs. I’m relieved by Liv’s presence and her ability to welcome townspeople when they arrive. Through the years, I’ve had the opportunity to meet some of Nana’s friends during my visits, but my ties to the community are loose. Liv has deep roots here. She’s grown up here, teaches here, and is familiar with many of the guests coming by.

The constant talking and well-wishes bring on a headache, so I busy myself in the kitchen. After cleaning up from breakfast, I decide to start on the refrigerator and the copious amount of food we’ve received.

Frenetic energy has me pulling all the food onto the counters, ignoring the still whole cheesecake, and deep cleaning the fridge. I don’t stop until it’s sparkling clean. As sparkling clean as a ten-year-old fridge can be. Casseroles, bagged salads, meat and cheese trays, and fresh fruit all get reorganized into the refrigerator.

The elbow grease I pour into the cleaning eases little of the buzzing within me. Guilt at leaving Liv alone to greet everyone intensifies my muddledemotions. I make my way back into the living room as overzealous springs cause the storm door to slam closed as someone leaves.

Liv stands uncomfortably in the entryway. “I need a minute.” It’s a request, but she waits for me to confirm before turning for the kitchen.

“Of course. Go.” She squeezes me in a hug before disappearing into the kitchen. Car doors close in the driveway, whoever inadvertently slammed the screen door leaving, and silence rests in the entryway. I drink it in.

Cool October air breezes through the screen door. Nana always enjoyed an open house and in some way it keeps her around. I close my eyes and inhale deeply. I love fall.

Footsteps on the porch startle me and my eyes pop open as someone taps on the wooden door frame.

“Hi, come in.” I try to affix a pleasant smile to my face, but I know it isn’t genuine and I’m convinced they know it, too.

It’s not like you owe everyone a smile. Your grandmother just died.

I cringe at myself.

A woman and man, I presume to be mother and son, enter. She’s holding several containers and his arms are full of insulated bags.

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