Page 18 of Your Every Wish
“It seems safer than putting them in the cupboards.”
“They’re fine, Kennedy. Really.” She opens the pantry door to show me a series of empty but clean shelves.
They’re lined with yellow-and-brown teapot contact paper, reminding me of the garden apartment Madge and I lived in when I was ten. The kitchen had a similar wallpaper. My mother hated it, but the pattern gave me a strange sense of stability. The complex also had a pool in the courtyard where I learned how to swim. For a while that garden apartment felt like paradise. Then, seven days before my eleventh birthday, we got evicted because Mom hadn’t paid rent in three months.
I take my Pop-Tarts along with a box of sesame crackers from the fridge and begrudgingly shove them on a shelf in the pantry. “Are you happy?”
“I’ve got to check on my column edits,” she says and walks away, leaving me alone in the kitchen.
I wander into the bedroom I’ll be using, unpack the bedding I brought from Vegas, and change out the sheets. For all its faults, it’s a sunny room, and Emma is right, it does have nice views of the trees. I open the windows to air out the place and can hear the gurgle of the creek. Only rushing traffic in my Vegas apartment. I’ve grown so used to it that I wonder if the quiet here will keep me up at night.
I scroll through my phone for missed calls. Just the usual suspects, nothing from Mr. Sterling. Still, I don’t let that lull me into complacency. It’s only a matter of time before he—or the law—finds me. I told Hank at Caesars that it was all a big misunderstanding before I left for “vacation.” By now, though, the shit has probably hit an industrial-sized fan.
As soon as we unload this place, I’ll have the money to return his lousy thirty grand. Then I can go back to my real life.
In the meantime, I’m positive Willy stashed the rest of his fortune in a mattress somewhere. No way is this all he had when he died. And I’m betting Emma knows exactly where it is.
Emma
At least fifty people cram into the clubhouse, everyone jockeying for a seat on the limited folding chairs. Judging by their stares, Kennedy and I are the main attraction. Misty tries to hush the crowd by knocking a few times on a table at the front of the room. But it isn’t until Harry lets out an ear-piercing whistle that everyone falls silent.
“Why do I get the impression we’re about to be pummeled to death?” Kennedy whispers in my ear.
“They’re just curious about us, that’s all.”
“Not curious, they want us to fix the place.”
“Well, can you blame them?”
“No, I can’t. That’s why we should sell it to someone who can afford to pour cash into the park. Unless you have access to a bundle of money I don’t know about.” She cocks one brow.
“Shush, the meeting is about to start.” I tuck my knees in to make room for one of the tenants to scootch down the aisle toward one of the few empty seats left.
Misty takes command of the room. For a small woman she has a large presence. And the people at Cedar Pines seem to respect her, or at least follow her lead.
“I know you’re all curious about our new owners.” She turns to Kennedy and me. “Could you two girls stand up so everyone can see who you are and welcome you to Cedar Pines?”
I stand while Kennedy reluctantly rises halfway out of her chair.
“Hi, everyone.” I wave to the crowd.
There’s slight applause, mostly from Harry and the cute guy who may or may not have fixed our window. Though I don’t know who else could’ve done it.
“When are you going to replace the toilets at the pool?” a man shouts from the back of the room.
There’s a murmur of approval and the next thing I know everyone is yelling at the same time, demanding repairs and hurling insults.
A woman standing near the exit yells, “What kind of bloodsuckers let a place fall to ruin while repeatedly jacking up our lot fees? Most of us are on a fixed income and y’all are a bunch of slumlords.”
“N-now wait a minute,” I stammer, trying to be heard over the hum of condemnation. “Kennedy and I just came into possession of Cedar Pines. Before now, we didn’t even know it existed. I’m sorry that the park has . . . is a bit down in the mouth. But I can assure you that we’re going to take care of it and there won’t be any more fee hikes.”
“Oh brother,” Kennedy mutters under her breath, and in a tight whisper says, “Stop making promises you can’t keep.”
“How do we know you’re not lying?” This from the woman at the door. She’s been glaring at me ever since I stood up.
“You have my word,” I say.
“What’s your word to me? I don’t even know you.”
