Page 79 of Drawing Home
“Are you in pain?” Emma asked, serving as a human crutch to help her hobble to the bathroom.
“Yeah,” Penny said. “How long does it take for the Advil to work?”
“Maybe twenty minutes.”
When Penny was settled back in bed, Emma eased next to her and sat down on the edge.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” Penny said, her eyes filling with tears.
Emma hugged her. “Okay. It’s going to be okay.” When she pulled back, she took a deep breath and said, “Penny, where did you get the drugs? And how long have you been taking them?”
Penny hesitated at first but then it all spilled out in a rush, as if she’d been dying to confess all along. It had started Memorial Day weekend; Mindy said the pills were harmless, that her mother took them “like Tic Tacs.” And Penny didn’t even feel that weird on them, just happier, and she didn’t get caught in any of her OCD loops. “It was just a few times,” she said.
“Maybe Dr. Wang is right,” her mother said.
“No! This has nothing to do with Dr. Wang. Honestly, I don’t even see the point of therapy. It doesn’t really help. I keep telling myself I’ll get back into drawing soon. When I was really busy with that, I felt a lot better.”
Emma sighed. “Well, you can’t be drawing every minute of the day.”
“Now I can,” Penny said with a smile.
Her mom gave a little laugh. “Yeah, well, can’t argue with that.” Emma tucked the comforter around her and kissed her forehead. She turned off the light. “Try to get a few more hours of sleep.”
“Mom,” Penny said in the darkness before Emma reached the door.
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
The hospital bill would be astronomical. Not a great time to be unemployed.
Emma stood in front of the glass wall overlooking the infinity pool. The irony of being surrounded by opulence at a time when she felt financially vulnerable was not lost on her. Now she really had no money to waste on lawyers to fight Bea Winstead. It crossed her mind that she could simply call Jim at the station and see if he could make Bea leave on the grounds that she was trespassing. Of course, if Bea was trespassing, then so was Kyle. And, really, he had been a lifesaver last night.
The doorbell sounded, a delicate, melodic ping that was as unique and pleasant as the rest of the house. Henry Wyatt had overlooked no detail. Again, the question nagged at her: Why had he chosen Penny as his beneficiary?
Angus stood on the front stoop.
“I come bearing gifts,” he said, handing her a straw basket full of treats from Schiavoni’s Market and two graphic novels Emma recognized from Penny’s bookshelf. “I brought these just in case she needed something to read. How’s she doing?”
“She’s sleeping, thankfully. Oh, Angus. Can you believe this?”
“It’s going to be fine,” he said in his deep, commanding voice.
“I know. But I’m caught between relief that her injuries weren’t more serious and fury that she acted so recklessly. She’s going to be on crutches all summer.”
“She’ll do anything to get out of working at the historical society.” He smiled.
Emma unwrapped the basket in the kitchen. Penny wouldn’t mind her taking off the cellophane and bow—easier access to the brownies and chocolate chip cookies. Emma opened a tin. “You really shouldn’t have bought all of this,” she said. “But Penny will love it. And I’m starving. There’s no food here. From what I can tell by looking in the fridge, Bea Winstead lives on sparkling water and organic blueberries.”
“Is the grande dame here?”
“No, she flew off on her broom earlier this morning.”
“Emma, you don’t need this aggravation. We can make up the couch for Penny at home. And you’ve been saying for months you have to get the first-floor bathroom fixed anyway.”
Emma pulled out a few Bosc pears and rinsed them in the sink. “Angus, I can’t have the bathroom fixed right now. I’m in a bit of a bind. I lost my job. And if I don’t find a new one soon, I’m going to have to give up the Mount Misery house to save the rent money. At least we can live here for free. And ‘we’ includes you.”
