Page 4 of Trailer Trash

“No, she has plans,” I said before I thought about it. She used to have standing Tuesday night plans, but she’d missed them the past three weeks.

“Just the two of us.” He looked relieved, not that I could blame him. It had to be hard on him that his newly discovered half sister was so close with the woman he’d claimed to be the love of his life, even months after their breakup. “I’ll pick you up from the office at five.”

“See you then.”

Chapter 2

IknewI should call Rose back, but that damn envelope was burning a hole in my mind. I had to find out what my psycho sister had sent me this time.

I sat at my desk and slowly opened the flap. A sweet floral and clove smell hit my nose. The envelopes before had all carried the same scent, but not this strong. I pulled out the white paper and several white flowers fell out. I didn’t have Rose’s expertise, but I definitely knew what these were.

Azaleas.

Fear slithered in my gut. What did Kate know?

I placed the flowers on the desk and then opened the letter—handwritten, just like the others before it. Each of her hateful notes had started the same way,Dear sister, and each parceled out a little more information about her meeting with my mother. The first one had been a tease, telling me little other than that my mother had been wearing a blue shirt. In the next, Kate had said my mother looked like she was in her late fifties and not her actual age of forty-two.Let’s hope you age like a Simmons, sis!

Sometimes the threats were subtle; other times they hit me center mass. Kate had made one thing perfectly clear: when the time was right, she would make sure Joe knew what I had done. Thewhat I had donepart was vague enough that it could mean anything, except for the drawing she’d included in the last two letters—something that looked like an upside-down frying pan. Anyone else might have been confused, but I knew what it meant.

She was hinting that my mother had told her stories about our lives in Oklahoma.

But the azaleas . . . that was nothing my mother would have known about.

This note was longer than the rest. My pulse spiked. Usually I read Kate’s notes hoping for information about my mother, even though I knew deep down there was little chance she’d tell me anything about the woman who’d dumped me at my granny’s house when I was twelve. No. Now that this longer letter sat in front of me, I suspected she’d been toying with me these past months, working up to this moment.

Fear gnawed at my gut, but I took a deep breath and started to read.

Dear sister,

I hope this letter finds you squirming. How is our brother? I hear you and Joe are spending a lot of time together. He even went to the church picnic with you. How plebeian of him. How did you ever manage THAT? Joe’s allergic to anything religious, and he never gave me the time of day, so why is he spending time with trailer trash like you? Perhaps I wouldn’t be so judgmental if I weren’t also jealous. Why don’t you ever spend time with me, Neely Kate? After everything I’ve done for you . . . I’m beginning to think you love Joe more than me.

That won’t do at all . . .

I’ve been thinking a lot about your mother—what a hard life she’s had and how you were the cause of it. Do you ever think she wishes she’d gotten rid of you before you were born? Do you think the world would be a better place without you?

I bet Beasley thinks so.

You and I are so much alike . . . so many secrets. Have you ever had a secret so big that you were sure it would burst out of you? No, I suspect not. You’re such a great secret keeper. Me . . . not so much. You’ll need to tell me your secret for holding them in the next time you visit.

Don’t wait too long.

Your loving sister,

Kate

By the time I finished reading, I was close to hyperventilating. I’d hoped she was bluffing about what she knew—or at least exaggerating—but the azaleas and her mention of Beasley suggested otherwise. Buthow? It was all ancient history, buried deeply in my past. Or so I had thought.

And how did she know about Joe spending time with me and going to the church picnic? Did she have spies watching me?

The front door bell chimed, and Rose walked in with a coffee cup in hand. Since she was working outside today, she was wearing capris and a sleeveless shirt, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail bun. I knew she had multiple consultation appointments scheduled throughout the day—it was why she’d left her little dog, Muffy, at home—but she’d started off by going to see a client about a mixup. The phone call . . .

I shook myself out of my distress. “Oh, my stars and garters. Joe was here when you called, and I forgot to call you back.”

“That’s okay,” she said in a cheerful tone. “I was calling to see if you wanted coffee, but I see that Joe must have already brought you some.”

“It came with strings,” I said, folding the letter and trying to nonchalantly slip it in my purse in the desk drawer. While Rose knew Kate had written to me, she didn’t know much else about it. “He wants me to go up to Magnolia with him after work to look at kitchen cabinets.”

“Oh, is he remodeling his kitchen now?” she asked, eyeing the stack of mail on my desk. “Did the Pearson check arrive in the mail? I might have to pay them a visit to get their final payment.”

---