Page 44 of Tributary

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Diana

“I JUST CAN’T believe it.” The world looks so different from the floor of my brother Archer’s office, where I’m sprawled out with Arch, Sara, and Indigo and a huge picnic of snacks from the co-op.

“I can!” Indigo kisses Sara and grins. “Sar has been saying for years that she could sue that jerk skunk for you.”

“Yeah, I knew she was good at her job…I just—”

“You didn’t trust me to be that good.” Sara pats my leg and throws a baby carrot at me. “But it’s ok, because I have enjoyed these years showing you my prowess.” She laughs. “Seriously, though, Diana, I’m here for you. Always. Please know that.”

My eyes well up with tears, remembering how difficult it was for me to say the words once I decided to go to Sara’s office this morning. To actually knock on her door and ask her for help. I wanted to cry with relief when she sprang into immediate action, sending off a courier faster than I could blow my nose.

“Did it come through yet, Arch?” Indigo rises to peer over Archer’s computer, where he’s been refreshing my bank website to see if the money transfer came through yet. We got a call from Epi-D’s legal team late in the afternoon explaining that they were offering us a flat sum, which Sara and Archer encouraged me to take.

Archer swallows a big sip of his beer and shakes his head. “Not yet. But I’m digging this picnic as a distraction from tax hell. Maybe you should sue someone every April when I’m delirious.”

“Really, Archer, you and Indigo should both be going home to get your rest.” Sara looks on with concern as Indigo yawns and Archer nearly tips over when he stands to recycle his beer bottle.

“We can carry on this party tomorrow when everyone’s had some sleep.” Sara is already in fierce mama protector mode even though the baby won’t be here until Thanksgiving.

I start to clean up the food, stuffing the perishables in the small fridge under Archer’s giant desk. “You two go on back to the Inn,” I say. “I’ll make sure Archie gets to his house ok. And no worries—I will pay you your fee as soon as the check clears.”

Sara scoffs, helping Indigo into her sweater. “You will pay no such fee. You will work off this debt in babysitting hours, Diana Crawford.”

We all bust out laughing at this, and I even toss in a joke about teaching the baby to use a machete. But really, I’m just so overwhelmed. It’s a big deal for me that I asked my friends for something, and I wasn’t mentally prepared for things to go my way so easily.

As I walk Archer to his little bungalow on the outskirts of town, I start to think about how much Asa must have influenced today’s outcome. I will burn him to the ground and I will hand you his ashes, he’d said. I feel a tremor inside at the thought. I’ve been working so hard today coming to terms with the idea that claiming my own work back isn’t groveling. I’m not whining here and I’m certainly not the loser in this situation.

The more I stared at my plants today, the more I realized I would never let anyone steal from my friends or siblings like that. I mean, I would never let my friends or siblings get emotionally involved with such an obvious asshole, either. But I kept thinking back to how I insisted Abigail stand up for herself when Hunter went back on his word to help set up the Autumn Apple festival. And that was just setting up a damn cider booth.

I moped around for years because my ex-boyfriend stole my thesis research.

Sara said I didn’t let her sue sooner because I didn’t trust her, but that’s not the whole story. Today I realized I had not felt worthy of anyone’s help. I had been viewing the loss of my graduate work as a penance for my stupidity, the price of having my eyes opened to my naiveté.

Never again.

Somewhere between panel discussions about fertilizer and losing at darts, I remembered that I’m really fucking smart. I’m glad I finally asked Sara for help. Signing the lawsuit papers felt like blowing away a heavy fog.

Now all that remains is to tell Asa Wexler I don’t need his damn money after all. And maybe apologize for the things I said during our last argument. Or not. He did say he cheated at darts.

Restless and energized after dropping off my brother, I keep walking past my shop, toward the little side street past the inn. Toward the Espenshade house.

I stop in the sidewalk when I see Asa on the porch, alone in the moonlight. “Oh,” I mutter. “How did you get here?”

He shrugs from his bag chair. “Took a train,” he says. “Want to sit for a bit?”

I hesitate. “You’ve only got one chair…”

“I’ll share it with you.” He pats his leg, and I notice he’s wearing those tight gray sweatpants again.

“I don’t want to rip the chair,” I tell him. I swallow, and continue. “Maybe we can sit inside where you have more room.”

“I’d like that,” he says, rising to open the front door. A square of light illuminates his porch and I follow him into the light like a moth to a flame, catching the scent of his deodorant and his soap and his Asa-smell. I sit next to him on the couch, a bit stiff, because I don’t know where to begin. We both said a lot of things to each other the last time we shared a couch.

“I don’t need you to invest in my plants,” I finally say, kicking off my shoes and tucking my feet under me.

He nods. “I heard something about that today.”

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