Page 15 of Drawing Home
People left you. That was the reality. They died, or they just left. Like her dad. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him. Well, she remembered it, but it felt more like a dream than like something that really happened. He’d called her on her birthday two years ago but he’d missed it this year. She hadn’t thought too much about it, but now that everything else was going wrong, why not just throw him into the mix?
At least she still had the drawings. She’d saved every sketch Henry had made for her since the first one he’d done on a cocktail napkin two years ago. It was of a man fishing. “You draw so fast,” she had said in amazement. His hand seemed to fly across the surface of the napkin, the image forming underneath as if dropped whole and not pieced together line by line.
Penny eyed the hand towel hanging on the rack but didn’t use it. Germs! Instead, she held her hands up in front of her like a surgeon going into the operating room and trotted down the stairs to get a paper towel from the kitchen. Just as she turned the corner, she heard the back door open.
“Hey, you,” her mother said, dropping a takeout container from the hotel onto the kitchen table. Another salad. “Did you eat?”
“Yeah. Angus made burgers.” Penny dried her hands on the paper towel and then tossed it in the garbage, careful not to touch the rim.
“Penny, sit here for a minute,” her mother said. She poured herself a glass of wine and sat down at the table.
Penny sat and looked across the table at her mother. Her shiny auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and mascara flaked around her bright green eyes. Her mother was beautiful even when she was tired after a long day. Penny thought for the millionth time how unfair it was that she looked nothing like her.
Her mother started to speak, then stopped.
“What?” Penny said.
“Did Mr. Wyatt ever mention his house to you?”
Mr. Wyatt? Why was her mom asking about Mr. Wyatt? “No. What about his house?”
“Did you ever talk to him about money—about feeling like we don’t have enough money or about wishing we lived somewhere else? I won’t be mad at you. I’m just trying to figure something out.”
“No. We only talked about art.” Mr. Wyatt wasn’t a big talker. She’d liked that about him.
“Penny, something very strange has happened. I hope you can help me understand it.”
“Is this about the man coming to the house earlier?” Penny’s heart raced a little. She had a feeling that something big was going to happen; she just didn’t know if it was good big or bad big. Her hand instinctively went through her hair, and she tugged out a few strands. Another nervous habit.
“Yes. That man was a lawyer. He had been Mr. Wyatt’s lawyer. And he told me that Mr. Wyatt left his house—his very big, expensive house on the water—to you.”
Penny sat back against her chair. “Hewhat?”
Her mother repeated what she’d said.
“Why did he do that?”
Her mother shook her head, eyes wide. “I have no idea. I was hoping you had some clue.”
Penny blinked fast, her mind racing. Mr. Wyatt had left them a house! On the water! Their neighborhood was inland, south of town. From the time she was little, she had known she was approaching her street when she started seeing pickup trucks parked roadside and collections of tires on her neighbors’ lawns. If she went too far and passed her house, she hit the railroad tracks. Their house was small and old, and she felt embarrassed to have kids over. But maybe this new house would be nicer than Mindy’s. One day, she could have a party at this house on the water and all the kids would keep checking their phones to see if they were invited. She would finally belong.
“Will I have a bigger room?” she said.
Her mother didn’t answer; she was busy responding to a text. Hypocrite. She was the one who was always telling Penny to be more “present.”
“What? Oh, Penny—I’m not sure this is really happening. This whole thing is crazy. I’m just trying to make sense of it at the moment.”
Her mother said Penny overthought everything, but the truth was,shethought too much. Like right now. What was there to make sense of? They could move away from Mount Misery and live on the water. A no-brainer. “Can we see it?”
Her mother looked at her and finally smiled. “I guess we should go see it.” She stood and kissed Penny on the forehead. “Maybe in the morning. I’m going to run out and meet Sean and Alexis for dessert. You go to bed. Have sweet dreams.”
For the first time in a long time, Penny thought she just might.
Murf’s Backstreet Tavern, tucked away on Division Street in a building that dated back to 1792, was a down-and-dirty bar; it had a crumbling brick fireplace and cheap beer on tap, and drinks were served in plastic cups. Murf’s also had a jukebox, a dartboard, and one-dollar Jägermeister shots on Tuesdays.
Emma spotted Sean sitting at the bar; Alexis was playing the ring game. The original owner, Tom Murphy, had hung a small steel ring from the ceiling with a piece of fishing line and the idea was to swing it so it caught the hook protruding from a nearby post. In the spring, the fire department and the sanitation department organized teams and had a regular competition going.
“There she is! What’re you having?” Sean said.
